by Andre, Bella
Let’s be honest, every girl does it. It’s like the dance before the kiss happens, the time when the eye contact goes from hey, I might kiss you to hey, I’m going to kiss you.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” Preston answers, interrupting my daydreaming.
“Did I ask you to?” I push him away so I can watch for Mrs. Butterworth.
“If that wasn’t you asking, I don’t know what is.” He leans over the conveyor belt and lifts Mrs. Butterworth’s cage into the air to examine the damaged crate. “It appears Mrs. Butterworth has escaped.”
I feel faint, “WHAT?”
“Look.”
He points to the lock for the cage. I notice with absolute horror that he is correct in his deduction. Not only is the lock broken, but Mrs. Butterworth is not inside.
Panic rises up within my throat as I race around the outside airport for any sign of a cat-napper. “We have to call the police!” I say, tugging his shirt for him to follow me.
“What?” He stops in his tracks and looks at me as if I’ve just informed him I plan on murdering him and burying his larger-than-life body in my back yard.
“We need to call the police.” I say it slower, irritated he didn’t catch it the first time.
His look turns pensive as he answers “It’s not that I didn’t hear you, I just don’t understand why we need to call the police and inform them that your naked cat has escaped. She could be anywhere!” He lifts his arms in the air.
My throat starts to close as tears threaten to fall down my face. Not again, I can’t cry in front of this man again. It’s not just a cat, though, and everyone knows it. Well, only Kristin and I know it. I continue to nod my head in understanding but feel myself weaken as I see Kristin and Brad walk our way.
“You guys ready?” Brad calls as he nears us.
Kristin looks at me with mixed confusion then Preston fills her in. She rushes to my side. “It’s not just a cat, Preston. We need to call the police.”
Preston rolls his eyes again. “What am I missing? Does this cat possess diamonds in its belly or something? Some sort of national security secret?”
He’s trying to tease me, but I’ve had enough. I cry as Kristin pulls me into a hug and tries to console me.
Brad whispers to Preston, “The cat… it was a gift from her dad. He gave it to her for graduation. It was the last present she got from him before he died.”
Preston’s face pales at the news. He mutters that he will be right back, before I break into sobs again.
Why was I so stupid? Why would I bring my cat? I could have left her home where she would be safe, and now it’s my fault that she’s gone! We are not going to search the entire island of Maui for her, it wouldn’t be fair, and she doesn’t even know how to find her way back home, considering it’s across the ocean!
Kristin leads me to a chair where I sit. Brad brings me some bottled water and Pepsi to get my sugar levels normal after all that crying.
“Guys, this is silly.” My voice is now hoarse from all the crying. “We aren’t going to find her. Let’s just cut our losses and go to the resort. Maybe she is at the Boise airport, and someone found her.”
We had searched the entire airport, as well as notified security. There was nothing else we could do.
“MEOW… MEOW… MEOW.”
Now I hear her in my head. Just perfect.
“MEOW… MEOW.”
Wait, is that—?
My heart stops as Preston walks up with Mrs. Butterworth in his arms amidst several fresh scratches. “She was in the plane still. I had to pay the pilot to go back in and search for her in the cargo hold. She wouldn’t come to him, so I had to crawl in there and get her out. Thus the scratches. I think she’s okay, just a little scared.”
My hero.
Running toward Preston, I pull her from his arms and plant a kiss right on his lips in front of Kristin and Brad, not only shocking myself, but Preston and Mrs. Butterworth, considering she let out a low hiss.
The bastard took that opportunity and ran with it, wrapping his arms around my waist. Mrs. Butteworth clings to my side, as our bodies melt together. His tongue dips into my mouth, a controlled passion brewing behind his every caress. Abruptly, I pull away and feel my cheeks heat as he smirks. His hands are still on my waist, searing themselves into my skin.
“Remind me to do you favors more often,” Preston answers, wiping an escaped tear from my eye.
And I know it’s cheesy, but I start crying again, not because I am sad, but because he cared enough to climb back into a plane and find my lost cat. Unfortunately, I’m still shaken by the kiss, enough to walk in the wrong direction for my luggage.
When I finally turn and walk in the correct direction, Kristin and Brad both lift up their eyebrows in surprise before exchanging smug glances between themselves.
Please. As if they had anything to do with this. Plus, it’s not like I’m marrying Preston. I’m just thankful, and I want to show my thankfulness in a good way. Right. Because that’s totally normal. Maybe in Europe, not so much in Hawaii. If I just went and kissed every guy who did me a favor, I’d be a whore. I touch my fingertips to my mouth and try not to think about the way he tasted.
I try, and of course, I fail.
Because I can still taste him.
And even though I’m in Hawaii and the air itself tastes sweet — I’ve just tasted something sweeter, and I really, really want more.
***
“Holy crap!” I yell as we enter into the town of Kaanapali. It’s the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Palm trees line the streets, people are everywhere, and I see sand. Ocean and sand? Sign me up. Honest, I want to live here. Just think! Then Mrs. Butterworth wouldn’t need sweaters anymore.
Looking out the window, I take in the smell of fresh-cut flowers and ocean. Does it always smell this nice here? I close my eyes in ecstasy as the car takes us around another corner down into the valley. The water is so blue it doesn’t even look real. Though I’ve complained about having to share this vacation with Preston, that is the last thought in my head as I absorb the beauty of this place. Somehow, it seems like a small sacrifice in comparison.
Although I do wish I was with someone who wasn’t so infuriating. At least I would have a friend to explore the island. The look of love between Kristin and Brad tells me I will not be seeing them much. After all, they’re in a penthouse-suite, while Preston and I are in separate rooms. Hopefully, our rooms won’t have connected doors or anything creepy like that. I mean, how awkward would it be if I accidently walked in on Preston showering? And, I mean, it’s bound to happen because what if he yells? And falls? And I'm the only one nearby to help. I’m basically being a good citizen by checking up on him. Or if he coughs? Or sighs in his sleep? It’s my duty to make sure he isn’t getting… stolen. Yes, stolen! It happens!
Right. So no connecting rooms.
Because if we do have connecting rooms, I’ll be spending all my free time doing my American duty.
Saving Preston.
Chapter Twelve
We pull up to The Westin, and I gasp, letting my hand cover my mouth. It’s gorgeous; I don’t think I have ever seen a resort this pretty in my entire life. And to top it off, there is a waterfall in the pool! My traitorous thoughts lead me to thinking about what Mr. December would look like swimming in the pool and under the waterfall. I begin to overheat, compliments of my sinful thoughts, when I hear Brad talking to the front-desk manager.
“Brad and Kristin Holland, checking in for four,” Brad says as he and Kristin approach the giant desk in the lobby.
My mouth is still open. Mrs. Butterworth is hanging out in her cage, patiently waiting for me to free her in the room.
Preston comes up beside me and asks, “What do you think? Beautiful, right?”
I smile and get ready to answer, but instead of words, all I can do is nod. How can he already be that tan? We have been here five minutes, and he already looks more tan than me. Guys shoul
d not be allowed to be prettier than girls. It just isn’t right, or fair.
My assumption about his good looks is confirmed as I watch several girls in swimsuits walk by and drop open their mouths. I even heard someone whisper, “celebrities,” to each other. They can’t be talking about me, only him. The dark-hair-blue-eyed look could be considered exotic, but that’s all I have going for me, considering I am shorter than most kids in middle school. He, however, has a whole lot of everything going on, from his tall build to his perfect hair and teeth. He needs to be humbled. And I now feel the need to be the person through whom that humbling comes — not that I haven’t tried, mind you. It’s just hard not to get sidetracked around him.
“So,” Kristin says with a strained voice as she approaches us.
Uh-oh, something is definitely wrong.
“They double-booked everything, which is fine!” She puts up her hands, and I know it's so I don’t panic. “It’s fine. It’s just that you guys didn’t get the rooms you wanted. Actually, none of us did.”
I look to Brad for some sort of hint as to what is going on, but he just shrugs and smiles. Figures.
“Where are we staying then?” I ask.
Brad and Kristin laugh awkwardly before giving us our room keys.
Kristin hands me mine then says, “You are both staying in their resort huts outside! Well, have fun! Meet us for dinner at five. Bye!”
And then, just like that, they are gone, leaving me and Preston with Mrs. Butterworth.
“What exactly,” Preston muses while opening his pamphlet with the key card, “is a resort hut?”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”
Pointing at the little sign which says RESORT HUTS THIS WAY, I motion to him and grab my stuff. As long as there are no bugs, I will be fine.
Upon arriving at our little hut, I realize I am more than fine. It is beautiful! Except…
“Preston?” I ask, trying not to sound scared. “What number does your hut key have?”
“Five. Why?” He asks leading me down the pathway.
I’m going to kill them. I will absolutely kill them. “Oh, no reason… well, except mine says five too.”
“We can’t stay in the same hut, Amanda.” He says, shrugging as if to say, Find somewhere else to stay. I am taking the hut.
“I agree.” I catch up to him. “I mean, I need at least a good excuse to give the police when I murder you in your sleep. They aren’t going to think I’m innocent if I’m actually staying in the same room as you.”
“Hilarious.” Preston taps the key against his palm. “Look, we’ll just go inside and see how nice it is and then figure something out, alright? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to jump you the minute we open the door.”
“Bummer.” I sigh.
Preston’s hand hovers over the door as he says in a hoarse voice, “Pardon?”
“Said that out loud, didn’t I?” Shaking, I try to paint a smile on my face then shield my body with Mrs. Butterworth.
“Yeah,” Preston clears his throat, “you did.”
“So,” I nod to the door, “shall we?”
Preston takes a deep breath and opens the door, and the smell of flowers hits me like a wall as I step onto the bamboo floors of the entryway.
I know it’s silly to hear music when you see things, as if you are in a good movie, but I swear, at this moment, I hear music. The entire room is lit up like a freaking Christmas tree. Candles. Everywhere. And suddenly I want Preston. Everywhere. It’s going to be a problem. A huge problem. Even Mrs. Butterworth stops purring. For a minute I’m afraid she’s stopped breathing. Instead, she just looks up at me with little tears in her eyes as if to say, Mom we’re home.
I walk around the large living room and sigh as my eyes land on the plaque behind the couch. Honeymoon Hut #5. Awesome. This could not get any worse. My only saving grace is the fact that there are two bedrooms in the hut, meaning I can lock my door every night. The entire living room is open to the outside, but there are nets you can pull down at night. It also leads directly to the pool, giving us a fantastic view of the waterfalls.
“This—”I start to say.
“Is awesome,” Preston finishes. “We have to stay here,“ he adds as he throws his stuff into the main room.
“Um, excuse me,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.
“What?” he asks, truly not getting my sarcasm.
“What makes you think you get the big room?”
He shrugs “Easy, because I’m bigger.” His grin turns shameless. “Care to find out, sweetheart?”
“You disgust me.” Take me now, take me!
“So you say.” Preston’s eyes lower to my mouth before he whispers, “Care to play me for it?”
“Play you?”
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
I toss my stuff next to his, set Mrs. Butterworth on the floor, and hold my hands out.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Please.” He rolls his eyes.
“Rock, paper, scissor,” we say at the same time.
“HAH! Scissor,” I yell as I cut through his paper.
We go two more rounds, and I win.
Then he does the most uncharacteristic thing I have ever seen him do. He takes my hands into his own and gives me puppy-dog eyes. He makes himself cry one single tear then leans in close and says, “Please, Amanda? Pretty please may I have the room?”
My heart has stopped. Somebody call a paramedic. Blood is no longer pumping through my system.
“You irritate me,” I say breathless, willing the blood to return to my face and legs. My legs go weak and I start to collapse. Unbelievable. I can’t believe I just did that.
His body is so warm, so inviting and strong. I hate myself for wanting to be held by him. Instead, he steadies me onto my feet and winks. “I was just kidding, but maybe I should try that trick more often on you. It seemed to work, considering you were putty in my oh-so-capable hands.”
He should be slapped. I lift my hand to slap him just as he grabs it in his own; then before I know it, he’s kissing me, and not a friendly kiss either. It’s a fireman kiss — a big girl kiss, if you will — the kind that leaves you breathless and aching for more. His lips are hot and possessive as he cups the back of my head with his hands. I should be pulling back, but I can’t seem to find the willpower to do anything except kiss him back. The pent-up tension from the plane ride threatens to escape as he deepens the kiss. Alarms are going off in my head, yet I’m finding it difficult to remember my own name. The thought hazily occurs to me that he’s kissing me to provoke me.
I pull back, even though my body screams in protest, and successfully slap him across the face.
He is breathing heavily as he answers, “That didn’t hurt.” He turns to walk into the small bedroom then laughs to himself. “I told you so.”
“What do you mean you told me so?” I yell after him.
“I knew you wanted to kiss me.” With that, he closes the door, leaving me still stinging from the touch of his lips on my own. What was that?
Growling out of frustration, I slam the door to my bedroom. Once there, I decide that now is as good of time as any to put on my bathing suit and soak up some sun. I put on my brand new green swimsuit from Guess and wrap my towel around my waist; then I grab my sunglasses and stroll from my room, only to stop dead in my tracks. In the living room is a very bare-chested man waiting for me.
“There you are!” Preston says, putting his Armani sunglasses on. What is it with this guy and name brand everything? I scowl as I notice that he is dressed to go swimming as well. “I thought we should go swimming before dinner. Get a little bit of that aggression out, if you know what I mean.”
I nod my head and follow before he turns around to face me. “Plus, I think there’s a lot of tension between us. It might be good for us to swim for a while, unless you had other activities in mind.”
His smile deepens as my face turns crimson.
“
Nope. Swimming’s fine,” I answer and stride out toward the pool as fast as possible.
“Where’s the fire?” He calls, trying to catch up to me.
“Ha, ha. So funny.” I put on my large black sunglasses, looking to hold on to a little of my dignity.
He winks in return and leads me to a few lounge chairs. The air is thick like honey, making it feel pleasurable to breathe. It feels good to relax.
As I check my phone for messages, I notice Bobby has emailed me again, but I don’t feel like reading it. This is one path better left untaken, again.
As if on cue, Preston turns to bestow on me the most sensual smile known to mankind. The man should really come with a warning label plastered across his forehead, before he gives some poor old lady a stroke.
“Sir?”
A high-pitched voice interrupts my thoughts as I squint to see who is addressing Preston as sir. Wincing, I see it is one of the girls from the lobby. She has on a bikini that looks like it has been shrunk three times before being worn, and her eyes are hidden by too-big sunglasses. She is chewing her gum so hard that MY jaw hurts, and, to top it all off, she is looking at Preston like he is Brad Pitt. Which, maybe according to this girl, he is.
“Yes?” Preston asks, dumbfounded.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“My autograph?” he asks looking back at her.
She nods her head and smiles. “Well, both of you guys’ autographs. I swear, nobody is going to believe me when I tell them!”
“Tell them what, exactly?” I ask. Now I am curious. Who does she think we are?
She shrugs and answers as if we are the slow ones. “That I met Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie on vacation. So where are your kids? Are they like back in the States?”
We are IN the States, is what I want to say, but I can’t, because that would make Angelina Jolie look bad, not me.
“You think we are…” I begin to say, but Preston cuts me off.
