He followed her up the long, circular ramp to the second floor, carrying her backpack for her. He paid her exit taxes, ignoring her complaints about it as they made their way to the security entrance. He frowned at finding no one in line, no good excuse to keep her waiting outside with him a little longer, still befuddled at how they’d ended up here. He couldn’t believe she’d be on a plane soon and he’d never see her again.
He held her hands. They alternated between looking at each other and the floor, trying to keep emotions under control. Rhees tried not to cry, her poor attempts becoming a little too obvious each time she choked up but then reeled it back with a sigh and a nervous giggle. Paul didn’t say much at all, less than usual.
“No use prolonging the misery. Maybe it’d be best to just get this over with.” She pulled away, one hand slipping apart from his.
“Yeah, I suppose.” His grip tightened on the hand he still held. She paused, mercifully, he thought. “Please email me as soon as you can.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. I won’t be able to relax until I know you’ve found a place to live, not sleeping in a cardboard box on some riverbank.”
“I will. I promise. Place to live—first thing on my agenda.”
“Good.” He pulled her chin up and gazed at her face, giving her a chance to prepare before he kissed her softly; a sweet, innocent kiss, but his lips lingered, unable to let go. He gratefully noticed she didn’t pull away or cringe, not this time, the last time. “I’m going to miss you.” You have no idea how much.
“I’ll miss you.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and took a deep breath, let it out.
“I should go.” She didn’t want him to remember her as a blubbering mess, but she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it back.
She walked backward, still holding his hand until their arms stretched as far as they could. They let go and she turned her back to him when she reached the conveyor belt to work on getting through security. She couldn’t bring herself to look back again until she’d walked through the metal detector and retrieved her backpack and shoes. He hadn’t moved from where she’d left him. He watched her, his cheek and mouth twitching.
She waved and stood, trying to memorize his face until the tears started to fall. He nodded. She waved once more before she staggered around the corner, plopped down in a chair in the waiting area, folded over, and sobbed. It embarrassed her to break down that way in public. She wanted to stop, knowing people probably pointed and stared at the crazy woman, but she couldn’t seem to control herself.
She asked herself over and over, “What am I doing?” Not one good answer came to mind, and yet she was only an hour from walking away from everything that mattered to her. She loved the island, the diving, and especially the shop. She loved working there, hanging out there, and Claire. She loved Claire. She would miss Dobbs too, but most of all, she would miss Paul. She had nothing—no one waiting for her in Utah.
She didn’t know how long she’d been crying and saw no end to the misery until she sensed someone standing in front of her, closely—too close. She was sure that some compassionate soul in the airport had finally taken pity on her, had come to console her. She wasn’t ready to be consoled. She didn’t believe it possible, and didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. She especially didn’t feel like talking to a stranger, forced to put on a happy face just to make someone she was never going to see again stop worrying about her. She pretended to not notice, hoping whoever it was would go away, but she wiped her eyes, just in case. Guilt stung at her conscience for resenting the poor, misguided good Samaritan.
With clear eyes, she opened them and got a look at the feet of the person standing in front of her, a man. A man wearing jeans and brown leather flip flops—the kind Paul always wore. She looked up, afraid to hope.
Her eyes slowly rose to see the angel standing over her—a beautiful angel named Paul.
“I started thinking. I don’t travel enough anymore. There’re so many places I’ve never been—like Utah. I’ve never been to Utah.” He sounded so casual, as if everyone just hopped on a plane at a moment’s notice.
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist. He didn’t hesitate to hold her to him until the new round of tears, the ones seeing him again had caused, finally stopped.
“The guys at security are getting suspicious. Are you in the mood for a good strip search?” he joked.
She finally let go and he put her down, but he left his hands on her waist.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you. I’m headed to Utah, going to check it out.”
She noticed a small suitcase next to him and eyed him carefully.
“After you left, I stood there like an idiot, forever, thinking about how worried I was going to be until I knew you’d made it safely, and you were all established.” He grinned. “I know myself well enough. It’ll drive me absolutely crazy with worry. So I went downstairs and booked a seat on your flight. This way, I can see for myself you’re all settled in before I come back.”
“And you just happened to have a Hello Kitty suitcase.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He blushed. “Taye and I learned a while ago you don’t just buy a one-way ticket and try to hop on a plane without luggage to give you the appearance of an honest traveler. For some reason, TSA sees that as a red flag. They totally treat you like a bomber or something.” He shook his head with a silly grin.
“How long will you stay? When’s your flight back?”
He shrugged and looked like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “I bought a one-way ticket.”
“One-way ticket?”
“I don’t know how long it’ll take to get you settled. I’ll buy a return ticket when I know you’re all squared away.”
She wondered how long he’d really stay—if she never got squared away. Could she pull that off? She smiled at the thought.
“So, I popped into one of the little kiosks downstairs, looking for something to give me the appearance of a real tourist.” He looked at his bag and seemed embarrassed. “Hello Kitty’s all they had.”
“And I’m sure TSA didn’t think it strange at all that a grown man put an empty, Hello Kitty suitcase through screening.” She giggled.
“It’s not empty.” He gave her a mock, how stupid do you think I am, look and snorted. “I bought several souvenirs to remind me of my visit to this country.”
She giggled, but then she threw her arms around him again. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Neither can I.”
oOo
Rhees sat, all curled up, her feet on the chair, her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, relaxed. She faced Paul, smiling. He slouched, sprawled out on the chair next to her, his head resting against the back of his chair and turned so he could look at her.
“I knew you’d be crying, and I knew it would break my heart to see you like that—I really, really hate it when you cry.”
She forced a grin. “I kept asking myself, ‘Why am I going back to Utah? There’s nothing there for me. Everything is here’.”
“Then why are you going back?”
She shrugged and whispered, “You said I should go home.”
He sighed and he looked angry with himself. “I know, but . . . since when do you listen to me?”
“Do I sense you don’t really want to go to Utah with me?” She raised an eyebrow, questioning his sincerity with sarcastic humor.
“Of course I do.” He winked at her. “If you’re set on going back—I definitely want to go with you. At least until I’m sure you’re going to be all right.”
“But if I don’t really want to go back?” She bit her lip, afraid of how he might answer.
His eyebrows knit together and his mouth twitched a few times. “Then . . . don’t.”
She thought about it for a minute but leaned her head against her hand in a defeated gesture and glanced away. “It’s not really a choice. If I don’t leave now, I’ll just have to leave later—and not much later. My money isn’t going to last forever, and the only jobs on the island pay a dollar and eighty cents an hour, I’ve checked. You know Frida, that blonde girl, from Denmark? She’s the one who waits on us at just about every restaurant on the island. Working four jobs won’t leave me any time to be at the shop. Maybe it’s best to just get it over with.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” He sat up and leaned forward. He would have to discuss the money with her eventually anyway. He’d arranged to have ten thousand dollars put into her bank account to ensure she’d have money to pay deposits, rents, utilities and other things requiring money upfront. He’d about choked on his dinner the night she’d told him she only had four hundred dollars to her name. “I need to pay you for all the work you’ve done.”
“No, you don’t. I never once expected to be paid for any of it.”
“You’re the hardest worker I’ve ever had, the most trustworthy and dependable—Rhees, I honestly don’t know how I’ll manage without you. You are personally responsible for the biggest boost in business that I’ve had so far. Even Claire can’t compete with that. Not only do I owe you for what you’ve done, but if you stay, I need to start paying you—to make sure you’ll stay at the shop and not get scooped away from me by the competition.”
Her mouth dropped open indignantly. “I would never go to the competition!”
“I know. That’s why you’re worth the salary I plan to pay you.” He smiled big. “In fact, I’m making it a condition.” He realized how risky it was to give her an ultimatum, but she was a creepazoid magnet—including himself. He had one more concern on his agenda that needed addressing. It was best to lump it in—lumping things together often worked as a distraction tool.
“If you stay, I pay you for all you do around the shop . . . and we still go ahead with my plan to convince everyone we’re together.”
She blushed, embarrassed that it hadn’t even occurred to her they wouldn’t still spend most of their time together. She’d totally taken it for granted. As far as getting paid to do it—she loved helping out around the shop. It seemed fair, but she never expected compensation for doing what she loved, though it would solve a lot of her problems. The logistics of staying on the island had always seemed like a vicious, unappealing cycle of working someplace to earn enough money so she could stay at the shop, where she wanted to be, but she wouldn’t really be staying at the shop because she’d be working so many hours someplace else. It made her head spin just thinking about it.
“Give a guy a break. You’re the first girlfriend I’ve ever pretended to have, but you’re ending it before we even had a chance. Imagine the pretend scars you’re going to leave on me.” He tried to sound serious and dramatic. He didn’t sound like he was kidding.
“We could just pretend to have a long-distance relationship.”
He smiled his private joke smile. Money argument avoided.
“I’ve heard long-distance relationships never work—”
“It’s just pretend.” She giggled.
“I’ve heard long-distance relationships never work—especially pretend ones. I’ll never be able to trust my heart to another pretend relationship again. Can your conscience live with that?” He looked at her with accusing eyes. “Huh?”
“I could probably pretend to manage,” she mumbled, but then seemed concerned about something. “You know we never carried out that plan.”
“What’s your point? The most meaningful, pretend relationships take time.”
“Have you been reading Cosmopolitan?” She smiled. “You sound pretty knowledgeable about this, Mr. Never-Been-in-a-Relationship, pretend or otherwise.”
“Oh, please. The Internet is so much more reliable.”
She rested her cheek against the palm of her hand, looking at him sideways, contemplating, considering . . .
Come on . . . He held his breath. Almost there . . . nope. She shook her head, and he sighed, waiting for another objection.
“What about our plane tickets? What do we do about those?”
“Screw the plane tickets.” His eyes squeezed shut, realizing his mistake. She’d never be able to disregard that amount of money. “Okaay! I’ll get them refunded,” he lied, taking advantage of her lack of knowledge on the matter. “They’ll charge a small cancellation fee.”
“Okay,” she whispered, nodding.
“Really?” Paul smiled as broad as his face. “Awesome! What’re we doing here then? Let’s go home.” He didn’t understand her fleeting expression, but it vanished as fast as it emerged, leaving her to smile her beautiful smile. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him.
He’d won.
oOo
Paul strolled into the office and set a phone in Rhees’ hand.
“I have a new policy. All staff is now required to have a phone.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t want one.” She handed it back to him.
“I’ve told you, you need one.” He tried to refuse to accept it, but she would have let it drop to the floor. He had to catch it before it did.
“I had one before I came here and I almost never used it. I had to cancel my dad’s plan after he died, and when I tried to get my own, they said it wouldn’t work down here unless I paid a huge chunk of money for an international plan. I decided I’d deal with it when I went back.”
“And now,” he reasoned, “you’re staying for a while.”
“Yes, and I’ve been here a while already. I’ve been just fine without one.”
“You need a phone,” Paul said slowly, and in a monotone voice. “This phone has a local plan.”
“It’s a small island. I can walk anywhere in fifteen minutes. If I need to talk to someone, I can do it in person, just like I have so far.”
“There’ve been times I’ve needed to talk to you but couldn’t.”
“Only because I didn’t want to talk to you—on the phone or otherwise.”
She scowled. He deadpanned.
“No one’s ever needed to talk to me so desperately they couldn’t just come and find me—except you—Mr. Impatient-Pants. And now we’re always together anyway. It’s an unnecessary expense.”
He’d expected her to say something like that. True, he never let her out of his sight, but when he thought of the few times he had—his frustration started to rise all over again. She had a habit of running away from him and he was tired of calling Regina every time he needed to track Rhees down.
“Office policy,” he mouthed. His stern expression deepened and he turned on his scary eyes to try to intimidate her into submission, but she didn’t back down. He didn’t really think she would.
“You don’t pay for Claire’s phone.”
“That’s because Claire is smart, and reasonable, and she understands the value of having one. So she pays for it herself, and so do Dobbs, Mitch, and Randy. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the rest of the staff.” He smirked—a little too pleased with himself, as Rhees was the only staff member left.
“But, Paul . . .” Rhees whined.
He put his hands on his hips. She would argue about it until he grew old and gray if he didn’t find a way to settle the matter once and for all.
“Did you hear Mr. Meanie-Head and Mr. Grumpy-Pants got married? They adopted a baby and named him Pissed Offerson. They’re all headed this way and if you don’t stop arguing about this, I’m sure they’ll have a thing or two to say about it.”
“You don’t fight fair.” The second she laughed, he knew he’d
won.
“Of course not, I fight to win.”
“Okay, you win.” She took the phone, walked to her backpack and put it inside, making a show of burying it as deep inside as possible before she turned back to him and said, “I have a phone, now. You happy?”
She smiled sweetly and walked out of the office, without her backpack or her new phone.
Chapter 3
Paul woke in Rhees’ bed. She hadn’t had a single nightmare all night, but she’d still snuggled up next to him. He snuggled back, nuzzled her hair, and inhaled before he realized his mistake. He wondered how much longer he’d be able to sleep next to her and still be a gentleman, and right then, he needed a good swim. He gently slid out from under her clinch. When he slipped free, he stretched.
Oh! He tilted his head from one side to the other and listened to his neck pop. What a horrible bed.
He quietly tiptoed to the bathroom, self-conscious about relieving himself—after he’d emptied his bladder. The bathroom had no door, and Rhees slept three feet away, in view of the toilet. She’d freak out if she woke while he was there, taking care of business.
Please. Don’t. Wake. Up.
He gave up and crept back into the room. He slipped on his jeans but he didn’t bother to button the fly, giving his morning glory a chance to fade. He unlocked the door, slinked out of the room, and made his way to the kitchen. He usually bought coffee at Miranda’s store, next door to the shop, but he had an agenda this morning. For the first time since he’d bought the shop, he hadn’t scheduled an early dive, so he wouldn’t have to be there at the crack of dawn.
He had still scheduled Regina to be at the shop earlier than normal—making sure to talk to her personally about actually showing up—as a personal favor—he knew he could count on her for just about anything. She agreed before he’d had a chance to mention whether she should bring Tracy or not, and he had to endure the disappointed look she gave him when he told her he needed them both. He’d made it up to her by flashing one of the smiles he’d learned worked on women, and all was forgiven. He felt guilty about using her crush for his own purposes.
Wet: Part 2 Page 3