All I Wanna Do Is You: A Road Trip Rom-Com

by Dylann Crush

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Sometimes I don’t want to be me. I guess a part of me might want to run away.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. Florida is starting to hold a special place in my heart. After five years in the hospitality industry, maybe I can find a small inn or bed and breakfast or start my own place.”

  She didn’t look serious, but her voice held an edge he hadn’t heard before. “Really? You’d leave your family in Chicago?”

  Reagan pulled the sheet over herself and stood. “I’m going to shower first. Probably need to get moving since I still need to find a way to get us to the island. Tux shop opens at nine, and I want to be standing on the doorstep.”

  Just like that, she’d switched gears again. The flirty temptress he’d seduced multiple times overnight had disappeared. Reagan had slipped back into planner mode. He saw the physical transformation right before his eyes. She flip-flopped faster than a hot cake on a sizzling griddle, and he struggled to keep up.

  “Can you stop here?” Reagan blew a lock of hair out of her face as Zach finally pulled into a spot in the strip mall by the tux shop. He’d been grouchy all morning. Mister Go-With-The-Flow had his boxer briefs in a bunch over something. But she didn’t have time to play therapist and figure it out. There was enough on her plate. The wedding was tonight. Showtime. After months of hard work, confirming, reconfirming, and triple checking everything on her list, the big event had finally arrived and she was still a couple hundred miles away. Her heart had kicked into high gear this morning, and she’d probably survive on nothing but caffeine and adrenaline for the next forty-eight hours.

  Zach checked his watch. “They open yet?”

  “We’ll find out.” She got out of the car, yanking the damn crabs T-shirt down over her opaque leggings. Teddy had already sent her a text this morning letting her know her suitcase had arrived, along with her wallet. Why hadn’t the damn airline offered her a ride to the resort on their luggage delivery boat? Didn’t matter. At least she’d be able to put on real underwear and condition her hair with something besides the cheap hotel samples. She just needed to make it through the next few hours.

  She pulled on the door handle. It didn’t budge. “Come on, already.”

  An associate in a dark gray suit moved to the doorway and flipped the lock.

  Reagan didn’t wait for him to hold the door to step inside. “I’m picking up for the Campbell wedding. I need to be out of here in ten minutes.”

  “Good morning and welcome to Antonio’s where we make your dream wedding a reality. I’m Eduardo, and I will be happy to assist you. Let me grab your order.” He cast a nervous glance toward the counter and held up a finger. “Back in a sec.”

  Zach sauntered through the shop. What was with him? He tucked his arms across his broad chest and looked over the mannequins in front of the counter. One had on a white tux with tails and a bright yellow and hot pink bow tie.

  “Before I commit to a tux, what kind of get up are we talking about here?”

  “Nothing too out there, I promise. Black tux, silver tie, and vest. Totally mainstream.”

  Zach swiped his arm over his forehead in exaggerated relief. “Whew.”

  Tapping her fingernails on the counter, Reagan clenched her jaw and counted Mississippis to herself. At least her nails still looked good. She had them done the day before she left Chicago. Was that only Monday? Seemed like light years away.

  After several long minutes of listening to an instrumental version of “Moves Like Jagger,” Eduardo returned to the counter with a large garment bag. Reagan let out a sigh of relief. Finally, something going her way. She eyeballed the list as he checked the order. Tux, tie, socks, shoes…everything appeared to be there. She zipped up the bag, signed on the bottom line, promising to return Teddy’s along with the rest of them by Monday afternoon, and almost skipped to the front of the store.

  But when she turned around, she bumped into Zach. Zach in his faded, frayed cargo shorts and a Quick Hump Sex Wax T-shirt. How did she not notice that shirt when they left their room this morning? Reagan pasted on her most desperate please-help-me smile and turned back to Eduardo.

  “I almost forgot. We need to add onto our order.”

  He did a double take. “Excuse me? Add on?”

  “Yes.” She hung the garment bag on the hook by the register and reached for Zach, yanking him next to her. “Our photographer needs something to wear so he’ll fit in with the rest of the guests.”

  Eduardo steepled his fingers under his chin and gave Zach a thorough once-over. “When would you like to pick up this add on?”

  “Well, now. If you get him something close, my mother’s stylist will alter it for him when we get there.”

  Reagan cocked her head as Eduardo clucked his tongue. “Ms. Campbell, we’re a full-service shop. We can’t give you,” he raised his fingers to make air quotes, “‘something close.’ Our tuxes are measured and altered to order. We take great pride—”

  “Do you want to grab the tape measure or should I?” Hands on both hips, Reagan assumed her most intimidating stance.

  “Right away, Ms. Campbell. Sir, if you’ll come with me.” Eduardo gestured toward a fitting room. Zach shrugged his shoulders and followed.

  Reagan picked up her phone and resumed her search for a boat to take them to the island. There had to be at least one boat left in Miami that hadn’t already booked a load of Spring Breakers. She finally talked to the original yacht company who suggested they drive further down the Keys and look for a charter at one of the piers along the coast.

  By the time Zach had been measured and a suitable, unaltered tux had been selected for him, they’d wasted an hour at the tux shop. T minus seven hours. She’d need every minute she could get. Reagan thrust one bag at Zach and threw the other one over her arm.

  “Let’s go.”

  Zach scrambled to keep up as she swept through the doorway and out into the muggy Miami morning. They laid the bags over the narrow back seat.

  “Where to?” Zach asked.

  “South. Just keep driving south, and I’ll try to find us a way to get to the island.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going? Maybe I can help.”

  He turned on the car, and Reagan adjusted the air vent so the A/C blew into her face. Maybe the cool air would prevent her eventual meltdown. If she couldn’t pull this together, she’d never hear the end of it.

  “Balsam Island. Ever heard of it?” Who would care if she told him? Her gut warned her that her father would have big issues with Zach knowing where he was going without having signed the stupid non-disclosure first. But the man next to her had access to every inch of her last night. If she trusted him enough to open her heart and soul to him, not to mention her legs, she ought to be able to trust him with the location of the wedding. He’d find out in the next couple of hours, anyway, when they finally got on whatever boat would magically appear to take them to the island.

  “Balsam…” Zach tapped his finger to his lip as he navigated onto the crowded stretch of Route 1. “East side, right?”

  “That’s right. You know it?”

  “I haven’t been there, but I’ve heard of it. Supposed to be beautiful.”

  “It is.”

  “The rest of your family took a charter from Miami?” Zach asked.

  “Yes. Looks like we’re out of luck, though.”

  “We’ll get there. I might know someone. Ever taken a ride on a commercial fishing boat?”

  Reagan closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. A commercial fishing boat conjured up images of Jaws, as far as she was concerned. But what other choice did she have? She’d chalk it up to another first and hope for the best. This late in the game, what else could possibly go wrong?

  22

  Zach leaned into the wind, letting the spray blow over him. What had he gotten himself into? As the exclusive, ultra-luxurious Haven Resort loomed be
fore him, he wondered if it was too late to back out. He didn’t fit in here. A line of employees waited on the dock. Men in dark suits and women in black skirts and white blouses. They had to be boiling in this sun. How long had they been standing out there? His buddy had tried to radio ahead and let them know they were on the way. But Deuce’s radio was on the fritz again, so Zach wasn’t sure the message moved across the wire. Must have, though, since a staff of about twelve stood on the dock.

  Deuce maneuvered into the slip. A staff member grabbed the thick rope Deuce tossed overboard and tied them to the dock. Zach glanced at Reagan. She had her eyes closed and appeared to be taking a calming breath. Probably trying to lower her blood pressure before the onslaught. Wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to do the same. Who knew what the next twenty-four hours would hold?

  The engine sputtered a couple of times, belching out a last cloud of dark gray smoke before cutting off. After having no success locating a boat within fifty miles of Miami, they’d driven further down Route 1 toward the Keys where Zach knew a guy who ran a small commercial fishing operation. Deuce had been more than happy to ferry them to the resort, but Reagan would probably never completely get the smell of chum washed out of her clothes. Not that she’d be keen on saving the leggings and T-shirt he’d bought her anyway. As soon as she unzipped her suitcase, he figured the clothes she had been traveling in would find their way to a dumpster.

  “Ready for this?” Reagan slung her purse over her shoulder and moved past him toward the dock.

  He wrapped his hand around her arm as she slid by him. “Hey, Reagan?”

  “Yeah?”

  Huge oval shades covered her eyes, making it impossible for him to get a read on her, but he felt the wall of ice grow taller between them. He wanted to tell her how much he’d enjoyed the last few days, how much she’d come to mean to him, and that even though it scared the crap out of him, he wanted to figure out a way to continue whatever it was they’d started. But before he forced the words up through a constricted chest and tight throat, the sound of someone running down the wooden deck drew her attention to the dock.

  “Teddy!” Reagan turned away from him, launching herself off the edge of the boat and into her brother’s arms. He picked her up and swung her around.

  “It’s about time you showed up. Mom’s throwing a fit over the flowers. She thought you ordered snow white roses and is arguing with the florist, saying the ones he brought are too cream-colored.”

  She patted her brother’s arm. “I’ll talk to her. Teddy, you remember Zach Anderson? He went to Carleton with us.”

  Zach hopped onto the deck and offered Teddy a hand. “Hey. Congrats on the wedding.”

  “Zach. I remember you. Reagan had a huge crush—”

  Reagan’s quick elbow to the ribs cut Teddy off. “We ran into each other in Chicago and he helped…well, actually, it’s because he stuck with me that I was able to get here. He’s going to do the photography since that jerk I hired canceled last minute.”

  Teddy’s gaze flickered back and forth between Zach and Reagan, like he sensed a minefield of unsaid words. “So you’ve spent the past four days together?”

  “Zach, can you get the tuxes from the boat? Teddy, we need to find Maria so she can alter Zach’s tux.” Reagan pulled her notebook out of her purse and scanned it. Zach wanted to toss the damn thing off the dock and into the ocean. All business, Reagan checked things off her list with a pen while she wandered down the dock to what he assumed was the main office of the resort.

  “And she’s gone,” Teddy said, thrusting a hand out to take one of the garment bags Zach had pulled from the boat. “Four days. And what the hell does she have on?” He shook his head and clucked his tongue as Reagan’s backside retreated down the dock.

  “Long story. Before I get started on that, I think I might need a drink.”

  Teddy clapped him on the back. “Bar’s past the office to the right. My dad’s going to want to hear the whole story, so I’d suggest you make it a double.”

  Zach nodded, slipped Deuce a wad of bills, and promised to stay in touch. He made a bee-line to the deserted bar area. Reagan told him he had about three hours before the festivities began. That didn’t give him much time to make himself presentable, find the miracle-worker Maria, and get his equipment set up. He should head straight to the shower, but his gut warned him that the drink wasn’t so much a nice to have but more like a requirement if he hoped to survive the assault of the Campbell family.

  He took a stool at the bar and signaled to the bartender. “I’ll take a double of any single malt scotch you’ve got.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zach spun around and located Reagan, who stood talking to a group of the hotel staff, probably running through her never-ending checklist. He couldn’t help but smile at the way the leggings clung to her ass. As soon as the glass hit the counter in front of him, he picked it up, swirled it around and swallowed half. The familiar burn slid down his throat, giving him the liquid courage to pull off the weekend.

  Now that he’d seen a portion of the resort, he appreciated why Reagan had picked this place. With a dense coverage of palm trees and vegetation, it would be impossible to get any aerial shots. And the beach where the wedding would take place sat on the west side of the island, opposite the busier eastern side where a steady path of leisure boats and fishermen passed by. He finished his drink and pulled out his wallet to pay.

  “It’s all included, sir.” The bartender picked up his glass and waved off the twenty-dollar bill. “Including the tip. The family is taking care of everything.”

  Zach raised his eyebrows and felt the chasm between Reagan and him grow. How much was her dad blowing on this event? More than his father probably made in years of working for the State of Illinois Department of Transportation, for sure.

  “In that case, let me have another one.”

  “Right away.”

  Within moments another drink appeared in front of him. Zach downed the amber liquid and made his way to Reagan.

  “Are we sharing a double tonight?” he whispered over her shoulder, low enough that only she heard him.

  “What?” She spun around and his hands went to her waist. Reagan stepped back and his hands fell to his sides. “You’ve got bungalow number four. Gabby here can show you where it is and get you a key. I sent a text to my mom’s stylist, and she’ll head over in about twenty minutes to fix your tux, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m assuming you have a list of the shots you want me to get?” Obviously, she’d made the flip to wedding planner. He wouldn’t be the one to distract her or try to throw her off her game. Not now, at least. At some point this weekend, they needed to talk. Figure out what they wanted to do about everything that had happened between them.

  As much as he didn’t understand the way she gave in to the heavy demands of her family, he had to respect the fact that she wanted Teddy’s wedding to be the best day of his life. Zach would hold off and try to catch her for a slow dance tonight. Or after. Maybe he could sneak into her bungalow. His gut clenched in a good way at the thought of spending another evening with her like last night.

  “Of course. I need to check in with some other people first. I’ll bring it over in a bit.”

  He cocked his head. Maybe he’d get her alone before the wedding after all. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  A slim, dark-haired woman gestured for him to follow her. He saluted Reagan and ambled after Gabby through a walkway of short palm trees. Bungalow four sat directly on the beach, the ocean mere steps outside the front door. A hammock stretched between two palms at the side of the building.

  Gabby opened the door and handed him a key. “Please let me know if you need anything else. Your refrigerator is stocked, and you can reach the operator by picking up the phone.”

  “Thanks.” Zach set his bag down and scanned the space. Neutral colors, high-end furnishings, the kind of place Reagan probably lived in at home. A refreshing cross breeze
blew through the suite thanks to the lack of walls and windows. The wall facing the ocean was a full sliding glass door and it had been left open, making him feel like the beach and water were part of his living room. He could get used to this.

  First, a shower.

  Reagan had put off finding her parents until absolutely necessary. She’d wanted to get showered and changed first, but she had been told her suitcase was in her parents’ suite. The moment of reckoning couldn’t be avoided any longer.

  She knocked at their door. Her mother’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she approached. The door swung open, revealing her mother’s svelte figure dressed in a stunning, tastefully blinged-out mother-of-the-groom dress.

  Veronica Campbell had been featured in the style column of the Tribune a handful of times. Her tastes ranged from sparkly to sophisticated. No matter the occasion, she was always impeccably styled.

  “Hi, Mom.” Reagan made no move to step forward, not wanting to wrinkle her mother’s dress with an awkward hug.

  The wide smile faded as Veronica’s gaze swept over her daughter, taking in the tight leggings and crabby T-shirt. “Darling, what happened to you?”

  “Is that my girl?” Her father’s voice carried from the bedroom and grew louder as he entered the room. “Reagan, you almost missed the wedding. You need to get over that fear of flying. If you’re going to hit the campaign trail with us, you’ll have to—”

  Senator Campbell paused in the living room as he laid eyes on his daughter.

  “Veronica, get her in here. Has anyone seen you like that? What the hell have you been up to?”

  Reagan swallowed and let her mother usher her into the room. Veronica’s hands fluttered uselessly around her, like she was afraid to touch any part of Reagan’s ensemble lest tackiness pass between them like a common cold.

  “Dad, calm down. I had some trouble getting here. My luggage went to Alaska, and I left my wallet on the plane. It’s a long story. But I’m here now, and Teddy is getting married in a few hours. Can we—”