The cry is echoed above, like the whole town’s on alert.
“Go back to playing,” someone yells in the distance. “We’ll get him!”
Hayes glances at me, but his gaze doesn’t meet my eyes. “That will be quite effective in convincing my mother to stop throwing other women at me for a while. Thank you.”
A startled gasp slips out of my lips. “You knew?”
“Hush, now, darling, the sea has ears.” He takes his wine cup again. “And I’m sure my security detail will do what’s necessary.”
He knew. He knew there was someone waiting to take his picture, and now he can’t be seen with another woman without being labeled a playboy, and his family couldn’t possibly have that.
He set us up.
He’s not kissing me because he’s thinking about having sex with me.
He’s kissing me because we have a deal, and the deal is to keep his family from trying to play matchmaker.
He doesn’t want to date anyone.
I’m suddenly grateful that we’re in the dark, lit only by a fire, because it’s not the fire making my cheeks hot.
It’s the warring feelings of wanting to kiss him more while knowing he’ll only kiss me for convenience.
Self-respect, Begonia. Have some self-respect.
The violins pick back up. Marshmallow rolls onto his back with his legs curled over his belly, dozing peacefully in front of the fire. And Hayes returns his arm around me as if this is precisely where he wants to be.
My movements are stiff and unnatural as I cut off a block of cheese and hold it out for him, silently inviting him to continue the ruse by eating out of my hand.
His jaw tightens, but he leans in, his lips gliding across my fingers and making my stupid body shiver in response as he takes the morsel with his mouth.
“Why do you want to be alone so badly?” I ask quietly.
He stares at the fire while he chews, and even after he swallows, he doesn’t answer me right away.
I don’t rush to fill the conversation, despite every instinct inside of me screaming for me to say something to make the awkwardness go away.
Smoothing things over, eliminating the tension, making people feel good about themselves—that’s what I’m good at.
Asking hard questions and waiting for answers that might not come?
That’s for people who are not me.
“I don’t wish to be alone,” he finally replies. “But my life doesn’t lend itself to any other option.”
“Why not?”
“Begonia, you tried to offer to write my mother a check for the dress you’re wearing while simultaneously asking her not to cash it for two weeks until your next payday. You bought cheese from the clearance bin at the market this morning, and you promised Kristine we’d use a dryer sheet when we wash this quilt before returning it to her tomorrow. When I say you wouldn’t understand, you have to trust that you truly could not possibly understand. It has nothing to do with your character or your intellect, and you’ve done nothing wrong, but you cannot understand.”
“So people have taken advantage of you and your money your whole life, and you have trust issues?”
He snorts softly. “Drop it, Begonia.”
“Will you have sex with me if I drop it?”
His whole body jolts, and I end up on the receiving end of a glare that should be setting someone’s hair on fire.
And I laugh.
I shouldn’t.
The first man I’ve made a real pass at since my divorce is glaring at me like I’m the most inconvenient thing in the world, and I’m laughing.
I pat his knee. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “I’m working on finding my self-respect so that I actually enjoy it when I finally have sex again.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in an audible breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, jaw ticking, aura screaming will this night never end?, and suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.
Concentrate on the picnic, Begonia, I remind myself. Enjoy this lovely picnic.
The entire little town came together to make sure we enjoyed ourselves on the beach tonight. But for the kindness of strangers, I’d be having a leftover egg bake from this morning all by myself in the garden back at the mansion.
It wouldn’t have been a bad way to spend the evening. The gardens are lovely, and so are the stars, though the egg bake wasn’t entirely edible.
But instead, there are violins, a campfire, a homemade quilt, more delicious food than a dozen people could eat in two days, marshmallows for roasting over the fire—Marshmallow roasting himself near the fire—and an apple pie and wine in glow-in-the-dark silicone glasses to finish it off.