“Having fun?” Deiss appears beside me and leans against the railing. His eyes follow mine to the monkeys.
“I’m supposed to be working on a project about bone broth right now,” I say. “So, yes. This feels particularly fun in comparison.”
“Bone broth? No wonder you jumped on a plane.”
I turn to look at him. “Have you come over because of Phoebe’s challenge?”
He glances over with a small grin, but then his eyes return to the monkeys. “You’re safe. I think I got it all out of my system with her.”
I feel a twinge of disappointment that I don’t approve of at all. “Too bad. I was curious what it was like when you actually made an effort.”
He laughs. “What is it, exactly, that you think I don’t make an effort at?”
“Anything.”
“Fair enough.”
“See?” I turn to him triumphantly. “You can’t even make an effort to defend yourself.”
“What’s there to defend?” He turns to meet my eyes.
He’s taken off the mirrored glasses, and it’s strange, being this close to him and having his full attention. The blue of his eyes is so different from the lightness of Mac’s. It’s dark and swirling with all of the things he never says aloud. I find myself leaning a little closer, wishing I could read something in them.
“Your hair looks different today,” he says quietly. He’s not looking at my hair, though. He’s still looking into my eyes.
“Does it?” I ask, even though the fact that I didn’t style it was a pressing concern merely an hour ago. I pat at it without thinking.
“I like it.” He reaches up and runs a lock of it through his thumb and forefinger slowly. As his hand gets lower, the back of his thumb trails lightly down the side of my neck. Goose bumps break across my skin, and my skin flushes hotly. “It’s pretty. You always look beautiful, though.”
“I do?” I ask, too distracted by whatever is happening to realize I’ve spoken at all.
“I can’t keep my eyes off you sometimes.” As if to demonstrate his point, his eyes drift over my face like a caress. “You’re like this serene, brilliant pool, with all of these things swirling below the surface, just out of view. Sometimes, when I see one of them, it feels like treasure.”
His tongue slips out over his bottom lip, pulling it in, and my eyes finally leave his, locking in on his mouth. His thumb traces my collarbone, and my hair moves with it, tickling the skin on my chest. My stomach flips, sharp and hard.
He leans closer still, and his thumb breaks free of the lock of hair and lifts to my chin, tilting it up. His mouth comes closer before moving past mine, the stubble delightfully rough against my cheek. And then his hot breath is tickling my ear.
“That’s what it looks like,” he whispers, “when I’m making an effort.”
His words filter slowly through my mind. Once the meaning of them works its way through my brain, I brace myself for embarrassment. But it doesn’t come. I’m disappointed at the realization I’m not the treasure he’s described, but more than that, I’m caught up in the wonder of what Deiss has just done. I can’t remember a single time of my life that I’ve so thoroughly forgotten myself. And the skill he’s exhibited. As someone who spends most days pretending, I’m in awe of his mastery of it.
“Lucas Deiss,” I say admiringly. I pull back, but I have to grip his arm to steady myself. “You are good at that.”
He smiles a wolfish smile that’s an entirely new level of gorgeousness. Simply, confidently, he says, “I know.”
CHAPTER 9
Safaris have always brought visions to my mind of trekking through tall grass in a dry African heat with a wide-brimmed hat to protect my face from the sun. A set of binoculars would dangle from my chest, and a herd of giraffes would graze in the distance as a single zebra wandered in front of me. In my head, there were always other people with me, but they were blurry, somewhere to the side, spread out across the land.
In reality, a safari turns out to be an extended visit to a very large natural zoo, with no directions as to where its inhabitants are. We don’t walk because there’s too much ground to be covered and, outside the confines of our Land Cruiser, lions and leopards and other things would happily make a meal of any one of us. It’s endless hours of riding across bumpy terrain, excitedly recounting the elephant that just flapped its ears at me before I eventually settle into my seat and listen to my earbuds as I scan the landscape for my next discovery. It’s hundreds of pictures, at first zoomed-in frames of exotic wildlife but eventually of Mac choking on his attempt to eat a Clif bar in a single bite, or of Phoebe and Deiss napping in the back seat. In other words, it’s nothing like I’ve imagined. But it’s fantastic.