Never Got Over You

by Scott, S. L.

  “Ah, those usually go hand in hand.” Holding up his phone, he offers, “I can order food?”

  I’m already licking my lips from the very thought of a big burger with fries. “It’s okay. Thanks, though.” He yanks his gaze away and stares at some nearby golf carts like they’ve offended him.

  I try to fix that frown. “Since we have time to kill—”

  He eyes me suspiciously. “Kill?”

  I laugh. “Can we end the serial killer thing? Does passing time work better for you?”

  “Much better.”

  He’s easy to talk to, and I like that. “I kind of embarrassed myself earlier.”

  Shifting beside me, he keeps his eyes on our surroundings. “We all fall on our asses every once in a while.” He angles his chin my way. “But you got up and dusted yourself off like a champ.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence and motivational speech.”

  The sweetest lopsided grin slides into place, the right side of his mouth kissing a cute dimple above it. “It was all you.”

  “A man who can give me credit,” I reply sarcastically. “That’s a first.” My gut twists and not from the alcohol in my system. I’ve gone too far. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You wouldn’t have said it if you hadn’t experienced it. Sucks you had to deal with that behavior.”

  Rubbing my temple, I sigh. “I hate when I get emotional.”

  “Let’s blame the alcohol and not worry about it.”

  I may have fixated on his looks so much that I overlooked his kindness. Inside the bar and out here, he’s been nothing but a gentleman. When he grasps my hand and pulls me against him, a few heartbeats are lost in the heat of the connection. My shoulders fall, and I look up at him, sucking in a staggered breath. “I—”

  “Almost got run over.”

  “What?”

  His gaze pivots to my right, and I turn in his arms to see a golf cart skidding to a stop, not even a foot from where I was standing thirty seconds prior. Whipping my attention back to Nick, I say, “You’re a regular hero, saving the day and me again.”

  “I wouldn’t say regular. Let’s try on super for size.”

  “Superhero?”

  “You’re right. That might be giving me too much credit. The guy was driving like a maniac.”

  I’m not sure what the difference is between an everyday hero and a superhero or how we even got tangled in this conversation in the first place. Oh, yeah . . . The guy bent over the flat tire says, “Busy night. I’ve had three flats, and one of our best Vespas ended up in Catalina Harbor. Not good.” He looks at us. “I’ll take a look, but I don’t have any spare tires, so I might not be able to fix it on the fly.” Great. Just what I need.

  Big hands still protectively cover my forearms, which shifts my focus back to Nick again. “Can I blame the rum?” I ask, laughing lightly.

  “For?” His answer is for only my ears, an alluring tone that has me lowering my guard.

  “I thought you were going to kiss me. Again.” I slip out of his hold and roll my hand. “Like inside, which might have been more wishful thinking on my part, but out here, it seemed like the perfect setup for a kiss under the stars of Catalina to set a mood.”

  “Which mood are we trying to set? I’ll see if I can arrange for your fantasy to come true.”

  “Fantasy?” My voice pitches. I realize I’m doing exactly what I’m not supposed to be doing. Falling prey to a great face and hot body has gotten me in trouble more times than I care to admit. So I won’t admit anything to anyone, other than Tatum, of course, since she’s usually with me. This trip was about having fun, but not that kind of fun. Throwing my arms up as a self-built barrier, I continue, “No fantasy over here. Nope. No mood. No setting. Nothing needs to be arranged. I’m good.” I shove my hands out farther. “So good. You don’t even know how good I am.”

  Narrowed eyes are trained on me as if I’m about to make a fast getaway. I just might, actually. It might be the only thing that saves me. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Not really, but don’t worry. It’s me, not you.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve heard that from someone I’m not even dating.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I smile because it’s insane to think someone like him has experienced the same thing as me before. I mean, look at him. “You’ve been dumped with that line, too?”

  He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, still staring unabashedly at me, but his chuckling is confusing. “No,” he replies. “But—”

  “It’s busted. Can’t fix this one, miss.” The Vespa guy eyes me, and I think he waggles his eyebrows, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t. “Want a ride?” he asks.

  His eagerness has me questioning if I want to get tangled up in that. Short answer: I don’t. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Okay, then. Have a good night.” He speeds off in the golf cart, leaving me standing here trying my best not to make it awkward for Nick.

  Peeking over at him, I say, “I mean it. You don’t have to worry about me. Seriously. I can call a car, or I don’t know, hitch my way back.”

  “I can drive you back.” The words rush from his mouth as if the universe’s very existence hinges on them. I force my gaze away and eye the lone working scooter—turquoise with chrome accents—because it’s too easy to get lost in his eyes otherwise.

  He walks over, taking the helmet from the broken-down scooter, and offers it to me. “Even though you don’t trust two wheels, you can trust me. I promise to drive safely.”

  I don’t want to leap into his arms, but I’m close to jumping and straddling his body. Alas, I control my desires. “If you’re sure?”

  A smug grin covers his perfect face. “I’m sure.”

  Taking the helmet, I hug it in my arms. Tatum thinks she’s won the Super Bowl with Harrison, but I’m happily grinning because she left me with a consolation prize that feels more like winning the jackpot. “We’re staying at Catalina Vista. It’s just down the coast from here.”

  Bellowing laughter overrides the end of my sentence, and he says, “That’s where we’re staying.”

  “Looks like it might not be such a coincidence, after all.”

  “I’m thinking it was destiny.”

  “Whoa. Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, cowboy. We’re still strangers.”

  “You’re a handful, I can tell.” He gets on the scooter and lifts the kickstand before righting it. “Front or back?”

  “I’ve been called many things by guys. Handful doesn’t even rank in order of the bad.”

  “Fuck those guys.” The anger that punctuates the curse word . . . well, you guessed it—it’s unexpected and definitely a turn-on.

  I grin, feeling as if he just defended my honor, and pull the helmet over my head. “Back.”

  What? Did you miss the part where I said he was stupidly handsome, and he’s been utterly charming? Add in the honor part, and I’m already halfway gone. So what do you expect me to do? Call a car? Not on my life, literally, when I have a hot guy wanting to give me a ride. My inner voice yells, “Get on the bike.”

  The sight of Nick sends a thrill up my spine, and the thought of holding onto this big hunk of a man is sobering in a good way. It’s not every day that a girl gets to go on an adventure with a hot stranger, even if it’s on two wheels and not the safety of the recommended four.

  My Audrey Hepburn-loving heart squeezes with excitement that my California version of Roman Holiday is coming true. Although the perfect chignon and makeup elude me, as well as Audrey’s grace being thrown out the window, this fantasy apparently includes helmet hair and a hunky man. God, I sound like my mother.

  Mental note: Never use hunky again.

  Angling to look at me over his shoulder, he asks, “You think you can handle me, Natalie?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Nick. I can handle you.”

  “Hold on tight.”

  I do, as tight as I
can, closing my eyes while pressed to his back. It’s then that I realize my inner voice, the responsible one, never stood a chance against this man.

  4

  Natalie

  Nick smells divine.

  Does he have no flaws? I don’t know if I’m enamored by his perfection or annoyed by it, but he smells too good to worry about the rest. With my nose stuck to his back, technically inhaling, he smells of bergamot and musk mingling with masculinity and great sex.

  I cling to him, the wind awakening my skin just as Nick’s exhilarated my insides. I’m not sleeping with him, I remind myself. I’m on a self-induced love embargo after my last relationship went awry. Anyway, I’ve never been one for vacation flings, preferring to hook up with someone I could see again. Of course, I hadn’t met Nick before either, sooooo . . .

  Stop overthinking. I can hear Tatum telling me those words herself. Enjoy the ride as we zip back to the hotel. I might be on two wheels, but Nick keeps his word and drives in a way that makes me feel safe.

  I straighten my back and look around the beautiful island as we zip around it, but I keep my arms wrapped around him.

  Glimmering like diamonds under the late afternoon sunlight, the tips of the ocean waves are mesmerizing. If I could bottle this sight with the wind kissing my skin to gift, I’d make millions. Not a video knock-off. The vacation itself has to be added to my catalog. Not right now though, so I put business aside and enjoy the view myself.

  I couldn’t ask for a better end to summer, and even though we ventured around the island today, it’s been nice to relax at the pool, read a book, and drink while dancing last night away. I honestly don’t care about another party on some yacht in the harbor when staring at this stunning sight.

  The ride back to the hotel flies by too quick, and as soon as we pull up to the front, a valet greets us before we can even remove our helmets. While Nick tips him, I take my helmet off and fluff my hair, and then drop my hands to my sides like I wasn’t being a total girl wanting to look good for him when he comes around the scooter. “Ready?” he asks.

  “Actually, I’m not ready,” I mumble under my breath because Nick is more than a hot guy I met at a bar.

  “What was that?”

  As we walk toward the door, my stomach fills with the impending goodbye, and I reluctantly reply, “Yes.” Just inside the hotel doors, I stop and look around the bustling lobby. When I turn back to him, awkwardness has become a third wheel. “This has been . . .”

  “This has been . . .” He looks down and starts laughing. A shyness has crept over his features, and his eyes find mine again. “I don’t know what to say, Natalie. You?” I shake my head. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets a few seconds pass before he rocks back on his heels. “So, we’re here.”

  “We are.” I mimic him by dipping my fingers into my pockets. “Although I had concerns, we arrived safely despite the two wheels. Thanks for that.”

  “Thanks for trusting me with your life.”

  “Two times in one day. If we’re not careful, this could become a habit.” When a couple walking arm in arm cuts a little close to me, I move closer to Nick. Waiting for them to pass, I keep an eye over my shoulder.

  When we’re alone again, he says, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  His eyes are darker in the shadows of this space between—left to the parking lot and right to the lobby—but I can still see the playfulness in the golden edges. “So far, it hasn’t been.”

  “Give me enough time, and I’m sure I’ll blow it.”

  “You say stuff like that, but I have a feeling that like earlier, the great Nick doesn’t blow much.” My hand flies to cover my mouth. Through slits of my fingers, I wince. “That did not come out how I wanted at all.”

  Through a restrained chuckle, he asks, “How’d you want it to come?”

  I hold my finger up. “I, uh.” His twist of words causes my breath to stagger, and I bite my lip. I’m not even sure he was insinuating anything, but my body reacts like he most certainly was. I cross my arms over my chest to keep them from grabbing hold of him, clinging to him like I’ve become a regular fixture around his parts—a new freckle or I’d even settle for a blemish, but he clearly doesn’t have any of those. “Well, it’s been—”

  “Are we already back to impersonal goodbyes again? I was hoping for—”

  Screw it. I move in, ready to show him just how personal I can be. “For something more personal.” Throwing my arms around his neck, I close my eyes just as I plant my lips on his. But when nothing happens—not a peck, not a great lip embrace that leads to a tango of the tongues—I jerk back and find his eyes fixed on mine but warm like melted chocolate. Delicious. Except that rejection crawls under my skin and starts setting up residence.

  Just when I step back, he grabs my arms, capturing me before I can escape my humiliation. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “Pfft.” I try to blow it off. I may not be able to run from him, but I can look everywhere else around him and search for cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, a crack in the plastered walls or please Lord, give me the strength not to care that he didn’t want to kiss me. “Oh God, yeah, no worries. I didn’t either.”

  He tilts his head, and the slightest of lines creases between his brows. Even curiosity can’t detract from his good looks, though. And damn those dimples that appear out of nowhere. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Natalie. I just—”

  “Yeah, I just . . . too.” Wait, that makes no sense. “You know, I think it’s best if I go now. This weekend isn’t about hooking up with a straight from the pages of my favorite magazine model just because I fell purposely into his arms. “

  “Purposely?”

  “Ignore me. I’m babbling.”

  “You’re impossible to ignore.” Speaking of impossibilities, he’s hard to read. Was that a compliment or an insult?

  I’m not sure. That’s my cue to exit. Thumbing over my shoulder, I add, “This was a girls’ trip.” I snort-laugh, not even meaning to make a joke, but that one just fell into my lap. “Pun intended. Get it? I’m a girl, and I tripped?”

  I like that he laughs when I’m trying to be entertaining, even if I’m not that funny. “I got it. Glad I could be a part of that trip. Pun intended.” He winks, and yeah, take me out of the oven because I’m done—hot and ready to be eaten. Though I’m getting a little ahead of myself with the last part.

  Ticking through the pros of why I should be walking away—early morning flight, the no-sex clause I agreed to, and him smelling so good that I know I’d lose all my sensibilities in a night of passion. Though that last one should go on the con list.

  I back away, begrudgingly distancing myself, and let my gaze trail after a bellman. Two words: Love. Embargo. I clap and take another step back. “Alrighty then.” Pushing my hand forward and raising my chin, I say, “It’s been interesting, Nick.”

  “That it has.” The heat and the spark of electricity between us has my heart kicking into gear. “So, this is our farewell?”

  “It’s probably best, don’t you think?”

  “Best for whom?”

  Have I ever said how sexy I find it when men know how to use an objective pronoun? My knees get weak, but I manage to steady myself . . . by latching onto his arm. “Sorry,” I reply breathlessly. “I think the alcohol has gone to my head. I should have taken you up on the offer of food.”

  “It’s not too late. Offer still stands.”

  Soooo tempting.

  I knead his bicep like a kitten on a scratch post and then take another step back, knowing the rum is starting to overrun all rational thought, or worse, control my libido. Only bad things happen when I follow my hormones instead of listening to my head. “I appreciate it, but I should call it a night. Early flight and all.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His gaze lingers on me before glancing over his shoulder. “I’m down this hall.”

  “I’m down that one.”

 
“Opposite directions.”

  “Seems that way.” Dread begins to deteriorate the thrill he had me feeling. I know what I should be doing, but my feet refuse to walk away. I sigh, staring down at the gold threads running through the heel of my shoes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  I like that neither of us makes a quick escape, but I wish he’d give me a reason to stay. I mean other than asking to buy me dinner and keep me company. Ugh. I’m really starting to hate my responsible side. I swallow down my apprehension and say, “Goodbye, Nick.”

  The distance grows between us, but he doesn’t make a move to leave. “Goodbye.”

  A beat or two passes before I turn to leave, walking with purpose down the corridor.

  “Hey, Natalie?”

  Happiness bubbles inside me, and I whip around. “Yes?”

  “I’m in room 203 if you’re ever in the neighborhood or need a lift.”

  It’s so easy for him to make me smile. Not sure how he does it, but I can’t let alcohol dictate my decisions. Nothing good ever comes of that, including two ex-boyfriends I wish I’d never met.

  With Nick, I may not be drunk, but I do wish I’d met him under different circumstances. “I appreciate that, but I don’t think I’m getting on two wheels again anytime soon.”

  Smugly curling in an arm, he smirks. “I meant me.” It’s low-key bragging, but with him, I can let it slide because if I was giggling before, now I’m full-on blushing.

  My chest gives me away with heavy breaths. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again for the ride,” I reply, memorizing that grin that gravitates to meet the dimple in his cheek and the scruff that took a solid day or two to grow. The windswept brown curls that formed from the helmet are tempting me to run my fingers through them. He’s just so . . . gah.

  When I look at him, really look at him like I am now, I know I should be embarrassed by my rejected kiss, but I think I’m the lucky one now. If he’d returned it, I’d still be lost in the feel of his fullness pressed to mine, our lips sating a desire I feel even now.

  No, he won’t be easy to forget.