That Guy

by Belle Brooks

  “There you go.” He speaks much quieter than he did previously. I take the hat from his hand and place it on my head to cover what I believe will be a head full of horrible hat hair. Great start, Mindy. Sheesh.

  “I’m Daniel Knight,” he announces again.

  “Hi Daniel.” I hold out my hand, and he accepts it in a handshake.

  “Let me show you to where you’ll be staying.” I watch his mouth move, and then focus on the clef hollowing out a portion of his chin.

  “Thank you,” I reply hesitantly.

  “If you have any questions on the way up, feel free to ask. if I can answer them, I will.”

  “I do have one.” I pause trying to stop nerves from rattling my voice. “Will we be living in the same house?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “You and the other contestant will.”

  “There’s more than just you here?”

  His eyebrows dip downwards. His mouth pulls together. He seems confused by my question. “I don’t stay on the island. I come in when I need to do my job.”

  “Job? Do we get paid? I thought there was only a chance of winning prize money at the end?”

  “There is, but I’m not entitled to any of the money because I get paid.”

  “So if we do the tasks and finish the experiment, or whatever this show is trying to prove, I’ll get all the money and you’ll get none because you’re already getting paid?” I don’t give him a chance to reply. “But if one of the other couples on one of the other islands does a better job than us at falling in love, I don't get any prize money, but they do, and you still walk away with payment?”

  His expression of confusion becomes more apparent when his eyes narrow. “I think you’re misunderstanding my role. I’m not on the show as a contestant. I’m the host.”

  My mouth creates an ‘O’ shape.

  “But what you said is right. However, nobody is getting paid to be here. Only the couple voted by the public to be the perfect match wins the prize money.”

  “Oh okay. Well, this makes more sense. It’s fine, though. The money doesn’t bother me anyway. I wasn’t even aware you could win money until the other day when I was reading through the forms I signed.”

  Daniel doesn’t say a word in response. He turns and walks up the beach, and I follow, wondering why he didn’t respond, and who in the hell is my perfect catch if it isn’t this Daniel guy?

  Chapter Fifteen

  There are eight dirty brown stairs. I count each one as I make my way to the top. “What a climb,” I puff.

  “There’s not that many steps.” Daniel brushes off my lagging fitness.

  “No, not too many at all. Honestly, I would have preferred thirteen of these thick, high suckers.” There’s sarcasm in my tone.

  Daniel doesn’t reply.

  “This is where I leave you, Dr Grant.” Conrad’s voice travels from behind me. I twist on my heel to find my suitcase held at arm’s length.

  “Thank you,” I pant when I take my belongings from his grip.

  “You’re welcome. Have fun.”

  “I’ll try to.”

  “Excellent.” He gifts me a reassuring nod.

  “Thank you, Conny,” Daniel adds, as if they’re great mates.

  Again, Conrad bobs his head, then he turns and races down the incline we just took, missing every second step as he goes. Shit! I’m unfit.

  “Welcome to paradise. Welcome to Heart Key, Ms Grant.” Daniel’s voice projects the superb infomercial tone. His hand shifts slowly across the vision laid out in front of me.

  Baby Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. I’ve stepped into a dream.

  “This is where you’ll be staying.” His hand stops roaming the lush green scenery and stills on a crisp white house.

  I crane my neck back as my eyes travel into the blue abyss of the sky above. “Talk about a mansion. It's huge. For two people? This home is all for two people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wowzer. Well, I never.” I drop my suitcase at my feet. I slowly lower my chin, taking in the cute navy shutters and the flowerpots residing under every single window … there are a lot of windows. The house is huge, slightly old-fashioned, yet magnificent. This would be my dream home if I could ever afford it.

  “It’s one hell of a beauty, isn’t it?” Daniel asks.

  “It really is. Not your modern-day mansion, but a mansion nevertheless.”

  “This way.” Daniel points towards the front door. I return my vision to the house stretching four stories high. It looks more like a resort than living quarters for two people.

  “Come along.” Daniel strides in front of me as we move onto a grey-stoned path. The noise of my suitcase wheels bumping and jumping against the small stones interrupts the sound of crashing waves.

  That can’t be good for the wheels.

  “This is the most beautiful place on Earth.” Daniel doesn’t slow down or peek back over his shoulder at me. It’s like he’s talking to someone who’s keeping up with him.

  I’m not keeping up. In fact, I’m lagging farther behind. I quicken my pace. Not quite a jog, but not a walk either.

  Suddenly, Daniel flings out his arm, almost barrelling me over. My knees buckle. I manage to stop without falling, but my hair whips my face, and my breath catches in my throat.

  There’s a settled silence.

  Brushing my hair from my eyes, I catch the opening of the front door. My heart pounds. My teeth clamp together.

  He’s wearing a black suit. It’s all I can tell while his face stays in the shadows.

  One step, two steps, three steps. The sun catches something metal because beams of light spread like a rainbow after a storm in front of him. He’s angelic as he takes another step, and I squint to see more of him.

  Black suit. Tall. Muscular. A white rose is attached to his lapel. I follow his silhouette upwards.

  I gasp. I gasp so loud it could scatter chirping birds from their homes.

  “Oh, hell no,” I screech. “Are you kidding me? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not a chance.” I drop my hand from the suitcase handle, leaving it where it stands. I turn abruptly, and I stomp in a fury back the way I came. Well, until I halt due to a video camera shoved in my face.

  I dip my chin and put my hands in front of my head to offer myself shelter. Brown hair. Big white teeth inside a broad smile. Those eyes, familiar, kind, unique …

  He never called.

  He made me want him, and then he never called.

  I can’t spend three weeks with him.

  Not now, not ever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I push my hand outwards and step to my left to pass the lens capturing the moment when I realised Arlie was the man on this island waiting for me.

  “Melinda, STOP! Let me explain,” Arlie shouts.

  Stop? He wants to explain? He couldn’t have sent a message saying, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m going on some show to meet some dumb-arse bimbo who I’ll fall in love with, and I won’t be in contact because it’ll be pointless’. Or, ‘I won’t ask for your number after this enjoyable meal with you because I’m going on a television show and won’t be available’?

  “Hey! Stop.”

  The sound of racing footsteps causes me to stomp faster, harder.

  “Give me a chance,” he says breathlessly, right before his hand grasps my shoulder. “I can explain. Give me a chance.”

  “Why?” I jerk from his grip, staring at the top of the stairs leading back to the beach.

  “I’m sorry. I was going to call you, I was.” He pauses. “Look, I chose you the moment your profile came up as a match.”

  I clap my hands. “Bravo,” I spit.

  “Can you fuck off with the cameras? Please.” His tone is filled with anger. “Dude, will you back up and give us some space?”

  I twist with my anger to face Arlie. His eyes are slits. His nostrils are flared.

  “Why did you ask for my number if you knew you were coming on this t
hing?”

  “I didn’t know I was. I wasn’t even originally chosen to do so. I swear. One of the guys pulled out, and they called me. I-I-I wanted to give the show a chance and see what happened.”

  “Okay. So, what if it didn’t work out here with the bimbo? I’d be a choice for you once you got home?”

  “No. No, I didn’t see it like that, not at all.”

  “Really?”

  “Honest. I swear. I was given four envelopes with matches. As soon as I saw you were in there, it seemed like the universe was telling me something I may have already known …”

  “What?”

  “That our run-ins haven’t been only a coincidence.” His eyes become wider. His tense jaw relaxes. “I think I’m supposed to get to know you better, Melinda Grant.”

  “What’s your last name?”

  The corner of his lips lifts slightly. “Blight. I’m Arlie Blight.”

  “I knew it.” I throw my arms into the air.

  “You did?”

  “Fort Knox social media profile? Harder to crack than a nut? The one with the dachshund picture?”

  His smile grows. “Yeah.” He places his hand on the back of his neck and rubs. “So will you stay, please?” He turns his eyes to his feet.

  I should say no. So what if he chose me? He should have chosen to call me days ago.

  But what if he’s right? What if this is fate?

  And what if Chris kicks my butt when I get home for not taking a chance?

  “Fine. I’ll stay.”

  “Good.” Our eyes reconnect. He breathes a long sigh of relief. “Can we possibly go inside? This suit is scratchy and becoming an oven under this sun.”

  I nod.

  He holds out his hand, palm up. “Are you ready to do this? Are you ready to find out what it is that’s happening between us?”

  I bite my lower lip as my heart leaps with joy in my chest, then nod.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His eyes smoulder.

  I gulp as I lace my fingers with his.

  “Paradise.” It’s what Arlie says as we walk side by side, hand in hand, up the stone path. We stop momentarily when Arlie takes possession of my suitcase. “I’ll help you get this inside,” he mumbles.

  Daniel stands by the front door with a camera pointed in his direction. “Are you ready to see inside the house, Melinda?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Well, in you go. Arlie, you can take it from here. Remember, every inch of the house has cameras except the bathrooms. Due to privacy laws, we’re not allowed to fit those with cameras. However, the bathrooms along with the rest of the house are fully miced.”

  “So you guys don’t come in?” I’m curious.

  “No. Not inside the house, but any outdoor recreations will be filmed by the crew who are staying on the island with you.”

  “Where?”

  “Now that, Dr Grant, is a secret.”

  I nod, completely unaware of how any of this works.

  “So that cameraman is filming this?” I’m again curious.

  “We are, and we’ll capture you entering.”

  I nod.

  “Then the inside cameras will take over once—”

  “Thank you.” Arlie interrupts me. “Let’s go in ... this suit …” He pulls at his collar in a way which says his tie is strangling him.

  “I’m ready.” I’m not, but it’s now or never.

  “Have a great time. Your first task will take place this afternoon. You’ll find everything you need to know about the rules on the table inside. Settle in, unpack, and relax,” Daniel says.

  I fake a smile and step through the doorway, still holding Arlie’s hand.

  Bang!

  The door shuts quickly, and with its closing Arlie’s grip disappears from both my hand and the suitcase. He takes two steps down a large and plain-walled foyer. He turns to face me, then stills momentarily. He appears agitated, uncomfortable, and overwhelmed.

  A flick of his arms has the jacket he was wearing falling on the floor. He takes the knot of the tie between two fingers and, with a quick pull, loosens it. One further tug has the tie dangling from his fingertips until he also discards it on the floor. His eyes find mine. He clears his throat. “I was burning up.” Arlie rubs his hand down his jawline and continues down his neck.

  I break eye contact and follow the movement of his hand. One button, two buttons, three buttons. I gulp. Four buttons, five buttons, six … the two sides of his shirt separate. His chest is hairless. His stomach is ripped beyond anything I’ve ever seen in the flesh before. His pants rest low on hips. A defined ‘V’, an actual fucking ‘V’ is created from muscle and points to his manhood, still covered by his slacks. I gulp even harder.

  Arlie undoes the button on his pants and pulls down the zipper without any concern for me standing right in front of him. I should look away—I know I should—but I can’t because it has been so long since I’ve seen a man’s body in this way. Well, unless you count Chris, but his doesn't really count, considering he doesn’t do chicks. His body holds no value to me.

  Don’t look, I warn myself. Keep your eyes above Arlie's waist. Be respectful, Mindy. Be a goddamn lady. I close my eyes briefly to stop my roaming vision, but it doesn’t work. I flash open my eyes and look at the one place I warned myself not to.

  Surprise lifts my brows. Not because the bulge in his briefs is more than impressive, but because his briefs are a fuchsia pink. Arlie is wearing hot pink cotton shorts under his slacks.

  “That’s so much better.” He follows his statement with a satisfying moan as he kicks off his shoes and reefs off his socks.

  I find myself squeezing my thighs together at the same time as I beg my racing heart to get a grip and slow the heck down.

  It’s a body.

  A man’s body.

  I’ve seen men’s bodies before.

  But nothing like this.

  “I’m going to put something more comfortable on. The rooms are upstairs.” Arlie bends at his midsection, retrieving the clothing he shed.

  “Hmm.” I’m rendered speechless. Good lordy, his body is fine, so freaking fine, and I would like nothing more than for him to stay in a state of undress for the entire three weeks we’re here. I, on the other hand, need to remain wholly clothed day and night, because what I’ve got under this pretty material will hold no value to someone like Arlie.

  “Are you coming? It’s this way.” He holds his bundled belongings against his abdomen with one hand and my luggage with the other.

  I nod.

  His bare feet tap against the tiled flooring. His tight arse moves hypnotically in front of me. I shift my vision to his calf in search of the tribal tattoo I know to be there. It is. Arlie Blight is really here, on this island, with me. Is fate about to play a horrible trick on the both of us, or is it leading me down the right road?

  Maybe the bus to Happily-Ever-After Land has finally arrived. And standing behind its closed doors this entire time was the hunkiest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on … Arlie Blight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We take to an over-polished staircase the colour of mahogany. I don’t scan our surroundings as we climb. Instead, I keep my eyes planted on Arlie’s arse because that’ll be the only way I’m going to survive this stint of physical activity.

  We make our way along some tiled flooring, then swiftly turn up another set of smooth, varnished wooden stairs.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. I hope this is the tour and welcoming portion of the day because if this is the hike to our bedrooms, then I don’t see me coming down often or at all. “Are the bedrooms all the way up here?”

  “Our bedrooms are on level three. They’ve been allocated to us, although there are rooms on all levels from what I’ve found.” We continue taking each step. “The pool, sauna, and a fully equipped gym fill level four. Oh, and I think there’s a beauty parlour, but I didn’t gawk inside. There’s one big bedroom up there too. It appears to be some
type of honeymoon suite, and let me tell you, the view of the beach is far better than the one I have.” He takes a breath, then continues, “Level one is the lounge, cooking quarters, formal dining area, library, sunroom …” He pauses, as if thinking. “There’s a bathroom on level one. Well, there are bathrooms on every level, I think.” We make it to the top of the stairs. I look to my left, then my right.

  A long hallway. Only two doors coming off it at either end.

  “Level two is a cinema and a stack-load of guest bedrooms. Well, that’s what they look like to me.”

  “This place is gigantic.”

  “It is, but if you search for this big winding staircase, I’ve found you won’t get lost inside it.”

  “Find the staircase. That I can do.”

  “Our rooms are down different ends of this floor. Yours is to the right and mine is to the left.”

  Keep your eyes on his. Don’t look down at his junk. Don’t look at his crotch.

  I flick my vision to his crotch. His cock is so well defined against that material. Big, too. Could I fit it in my mouth?

  “Melinda?”

  “Hmm?” I reply, and—

  Oh, shit. I’m still looking at his crotch.

  I shoot my eyes to his.

  There’s a quiet snickering. “Melinda.”

  “Yes?” I clear my throat.

  “Our rooms are at different ends of the floor.” He pauses, the corners of his lips rise, but swiftly fall. “My room is massive. It’s the one they said I was to take, but if yours isn’t up to scratch, then feel free to check out mine, and if you like it better, we’ll swap. I want you to be comfortable.”

  “Comfortable. Right.”

  He smiles.

  I bite my lower lip when my eyes greedily scan past his mouth, his clean-shaven chin, and stop on the only part of his broad chest not covered by his belongings. The top of his pecks.

  “I’m going to get dressed. I’ll be back in a minute. Do you want me to take your luggage to your room before I head off, or are you all right?”