The Right Guy

by Kate O'Keeffe

  Phoebe throws her head back and lets out a laugh. “You think I’m dating Jake?”

  “Are you?”

  “Look, as hot as Jake Harrison is—and we all know he’s super hot—he’s a total ladies’ man. I’m not going there.”

  A total ladies’ man. Yup, that’s Jake. And I need to remember that in case I get any more silly romantic notions about him being anything other than my bestie’s big brother.

  “Hey,” a very familiar, masculine voice says at my side.

  It’s Jake, his jaw locked, his expression intense, unsmiling. His eyes are trained on me.

  “Hi.” My voice is breathless as my eyes skim over him. He’s wearing a white buttoned shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up over his strong, bulky arms. His wide shoulders taper into the slim waist of his shorts.

  Sure, I’ve noticed how hot he is before. I’d challenge any straight woman not to. But my interest in him has piqued in a way it hasn’t before.

  And I don’t know what the heck to do about it.

  I clear my throat. I need to find Orange Shirt Guy.

  Jake holds out a drink to Phoebe who takes it and thanks him. “Can I get you something to drink, Tay Tay?”

  “It’s cute the way you still call her ‘Tay Tay,’” Phoebe coos.

  I need to break this thing between us. “Oh, no. That’s fine. I’ve still got lots left of my drink.” I lift my glass and jiggle it in front of them. Empty, dammit. “Or not.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll go get myself another.”

  Before Jake has the chance to say another word, I skulk away, clutching my empty glass. I head straight to the bar, grab the barman’s attention, and wait to order a very large, very strong mojito. I drum my fingers on the wooden bar as I wait.

  “You okay?” Lacey nudges my arm as she leans against the bar next to me.

  “Oh. Yes. Just waiting to order another drink.” And avoid thinking about Jake Harrison.

  “Get me one, too?”

  “Sure.”

  The barman approaches, and I order two mojitos. As we wait, we chat.

  “Working with Jorge Dvorak must be interesting.” Lacey’s face is shining.

  “I guess. I mean, I’ve only met him once. He was nice enough but, to be honest, he was a bit of a flirt.”

  “He was? The ‘hot nerd’ flirted with you? You’re a lucky girl.”

  “I get it, he’s handsome in that slightly geeky, awkward kind of way. But to be honest, all I could think about was how placing him in a top job would help my career.”

  Lacey laughs. “I think you’ve become a nun or something, girl. Power makes hot men hotter, even the geeks. And I tell you, babe, if I was in your position, I would flirt my pants off with that guy.” Lacey fans herself, and I shake my head, laughing.

  Lacey’s always gone for the slightly quirky, less obvious type. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that she likes Jorge Dvorak.

  “Speaking of hot guys, anyone on the scene?” she asks.

  Although I will them not to, my eyes find Jake. He’s concentrating on something Phoebe’s saying in the noisy bar, leaning in toward her. Even though I know better, my belly twists with jealousy once more. I focus my attention back on Lacey. “No hot guys for me. You?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the psychic’s prediction, but I stop myself. Lacey’s not Ashley, and I’m not sure she would understand.

  Heck, I’m not even sure I understand.

  “Not yet. But the night is young.” She picks my camera up off the bar where I’d placed it moments ago. “Shall we get someone to take a photo of us? We’re both looking super cute, sister.”

  I laugh. “The camera has a self-timer function, you know.”

  “But this could be an opportunity to meet cute guys. Watch and learn, my friend, watch and learn.”

  As Lacey leaves to ask someone to take a photo, the barman delivers our drinks. He hands me a check. I write down our room number and sign it.

  “I’ve got the perfect photographer,” Lacey announces, shooting me a meaningful look.

  My heart almost leaps into my mouth when she presents me with the man in the orange shirt.

  “It’s great to meet the photographer,” he says, extending his hand. His smile is gorgeous, lending him an attractive air of confidence.

  I take his hand in mine, tingles shooting up my arm as our skin touches. “You, too.” I hold my breath as I look up into his eyes, hoping, hoping . . . The bar’s lighting is dim, but they could be green.

  I almost laugh at how easy this thing might be.

  “Okay, here you are.” Lacey hands him my camera.

  She stands next to me, and we pose. I’m brimming with quiet excitement, grinning from ear to ear. He takes a bunch of shots from different angles, giving us instructions on what to do. I begin to feel like we’re in a fashion shoot rather than a bar, a cute photographer behind the lens. A cute photographer who might be “the one” Kosmic Kandi told me about.

  Satisfied with his work, he hands the camera back to me. “You two are so photogenic. Just beautiful. Which one of you is the older sister?”

  “Oh, we’re not sisters,” I reply.

  “But we may as well be,” Lacey adds, her arm around my shoulder.

  “I-I don’t know your name,” I say to Orange Shirt Guy.

  “It’s Rob.”

  “Rob,” I repeat. Nice name. Simple, solid. I know I’m grinning at him like some kind of beauty queen, but this could a big moment, a huge moment.

  “Okay, you two. Dinner. Baja cuisine at its best,” Ash says, sidling up to us. “Oh, hello. I’m Ashley.”

  “Rob.” He smiles at Ash, then returns his attention to me. “Shame you have to leave so soon. And I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Taylor.”

  He takes my hand in his once more. “It’s been a pleasure, Taylor.”

  “Sorry I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you here tomorrow?”

  He smiles back, his eyes twinkling. “You can count on it.”

  Ash looks between Rob and me, her eyes widening. “Nice shirt you got there, Rob. Is that orange?”

  He shrugs. “I guess.”

  “Blood-red orange, would you say?” Ashley continues.

  I want to kick her to shut her up. Instead, I glare. It does nothing to stop her.

  “I guess it could be,” Rob replies, his tone uncertain.

  “I’d say blood-red orange. Wouldn’t you, Taylor?”

  I glare at her again.

  “And your eyes, what color are they?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lacey says, her brow furrowed.

  “Nothing,” I reply. It’s one thing for me to get my hopes up about this guy, but it’s quite another for Ashley to be so freaking obvious about it. “Please excuse my friend,” I say to Rob. “She’s the bride-to-be, and I think all the excitement has gone to her head.”

  “I see,” Rob says.

  “I’m not a toddler!” Ashley is indignant. “But it’s been lovely to meet you, Rob, the man in the blood-red orange shirt.”

  I roll my eyes. “See you tomorrow?” I say to Rob.

  “I’ll be here.”

  With more reluctance than a kid on a trip to the dentist, I follow Ash, Lacey, and the others out of the bar. I steal a look back at Rob. His eyes are trained on me. He offers me a wave, and I wave back.

  I feel lightheaded, as though I’m floating. This is it. This is the moment we’ll remember forever. The moment we met.

  I can barely wait for tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jake

  I wake up after a restless sleep with the once crisp, white hotel sheets tangled in a mess at the bottom of the bed, my face buried in a pillow. I roll over onto my back and rub my eyes. The sun is peaking around the edges of the curtains I didn’t close all the way last night when I hit the sack.

  I was too shattered to care.

  I’ve been working my butt off over the last few days, getting
everything ready for Isabella to run Manger for me while I’m down here for the weekend. She’s more than competent, and I have full trust in her, but still. Although Frederick owns it, the restaurant is my baby. And like every good father, I love my baby. Everything needs to go smoothly.

  As has become inevitable over the last week, my mind wanders to Taylor. It took a major effort to drag my eyes from her and try to concentrate on something else—anything else—last night. Man, she looked hot. That black dress she was poured into showed off her curves to perfection, her long hair framing her beautiful face. But there was something else about her, something I couldn’t put my finger on. I guess she seemed more confident, more self-assured.

  Whatever was going on with her last night, it was sexy as all hell. If my sister’s rule states I can’t go near any of her friends, she needs to have less goddam attractive ones, that’s all I’ll say. She’s definitely not playing fair with Taylor Jennings.

  Why can’t I get her out of my head? I know loads of women. Beautiful women more than willing to spend time with me if I let them. But it always comes back to Taylor. And you know what? It always has.

  The thought of dating a bunch of random women doesn’t appeal like it once did. And anyway, being with other women has never worked to blot Taylor from my mind.

  Looking for a distraction, I reach across for my phone. I press the screen. It lights up, telling me it’s eight forty-two. I’m late for our group breakfast. Ash and her over-planned weekend.

  I fire off a text to Isabella, asking whether the venison has been delivered, reminding her to order additional potatoes. For some reason, every man and his proverbial dog order extra portions of our garlic fries with truffle oil at the weekend. This being Saturday, we need to meet demand.

  My phone pings almost immediately.

  Everything’s under control. Go have fun. That’s an order.

  I smile. Isabella knows how hard I work. She’s like a mother hen, fussing over me and reminding me to get enough sleep, eat enough. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if one day, she made me open my mouth so she could check if I’d flossed. I can’t resist another question.

  Have you organized things with Andre for the twenty-third?

  You know I have. And unless you’ve decided to blow Chocula off and go out on your own, I’m not talking to you anymore.

  She’s told me on the sly she and most of the kitchen staff would follow me if I left, saying they’re all sick of the over-privileged dick of an owner, Frederick, and his erratic, demanding ways. If it were true, that would be a major difference for me. Last time I started up my own place I did it alone, hiring staff I didn’t know. Now I’ve got the people I know and trust, the relationships I need with suppliers.

  Only trouble is, I can’t afford to do it. Well, that and the thought of failing again—which scares the living crap out of me.

  My phone pings again.

  Radio silence?

  I tap out a reply.

  Thinking about it.

  I pause, my thumb hovering over the “send” button. Truth be told, I’m always thinking about it, and have been doing so pretty much since the day Frederick and his fat wallet made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Maybe having my own place could work?

  And maybe it’ll all come crashing down around my ears once more.

  I chew my lip, deep in thought. What’s the harm in telling Isabella I’m seriously considering it, that I’d like nothing more than to be my own boss? I press send. And wait.

  Seriously??!!

  Maybe.

  That’s as good as a yes from you, boss.

  Maybe.

  Ha! Your restaurant will be a thing of beauty, as long as you take me with you.

  How could I not?

  Good. Now, go have FUN!

  I smile at her response. She’s right, I need to go have some fun, let loose, think about something other than work. Right on cue, my mind wanders back to Taylor.

  Enough. She’s not interested in me, and I can’t go there.

  A quick shower later and I’m feeling more human. I wrap a towel around my middle and wipe the steam off the mirror. I look at my reflection. At twenty-eight, I’m still in my prime, and I know I’m in good shape, hitting the gym most days, keeping up my cardio. Being around all that food is an occupational hazard. I love to create new recipes, to improve on the staples, to fuse the unexpected. And then, eat it. So, I’ve really got to hit the gym as often as I do.

  I run my fingers through my wet hair. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had the chance to get it cut. I’m sporting the “fresh out of bed” look, the short back and sides a distant memory. No time for a cut. It’ll have to do for now.

  I throw on a pair of navy shorts and a white T, rubbing my stubble-lined chin. I’m on vacation, I’m not going to shave. I grab my phone and room card and make my way down the three flights to the restaurant. I walk in to the sound of clanking plates and chatter, the aroma of freshly cooked bacon and brewed coffee. My stomach rumbles.

  A quick glance around the room and I locate Tim, Ash, Taylor, and Lacey at a table by one of the windows overlooking the pool.

  I collect a plate from the stack and set about filling it with my breakfast from the wide array of food on offer. When I lift one of the bain-marie lids, I notice the scrambled eggs look like they could be used to make car tires. Rubbery as all hell. I get a guy in a white chef’s hat and jacket to whip me up some fresh, instructing him on the correct proportion of milk to eggs, seasoning, and herbs.

  I’m not sure he appreciates it. But who cares? I get good eggs to go with the bacon, sliced avocado with a spritz of lemon, and a slice of buttered wholegrain toast on my plate.

  I walk over to the table and plunk my breakfast down in an empty spot and pull a cane chair out from the table. “Morning.” I take my seat. The bright sun through the window is almost blinding, and I scrunch my eyes as I smile at the group.

  “Morning, big brother.” Ash leans across and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Nice of you to make it.”

  I glance at the empty plates on the table. I knew I was late, but it’s my vacation, my first in a long time. A guy can sleep in.

  “Late night last night?” Taylor asks.

  I swallow a mouthful of scrambled eggs, looking her over. She’s in a loose-fitting white beach dress. It’s fallen carelessly off one shoulder, revealing a thin red strap underneath. She looks effortlessly beautiful, and I have to work hard not to stare.

  “Well, was it?” Taylor asks again when I don’t reply.

  “Yeah. I mean, no. I went back to the bar with Phoebe and Big Red after dinner last night.”

  “Did you now?” Ash asks.

  “It was just for one drink. It’s not a crime.” I load my fork up with bacon. I’m disappointed when I discover it’s overcooked. Bacon should be crunchy but succulent. Not like a piece of cardboard that crumbles as you bite into it.

  “Well, as long as you’re not hungover,” Ash says, looking like our mom.

  “Why? Hangovers not in the schedule?” I ask.

  Taylor and Lacey both chuckle.

  I glance at Taylor.

  She immediately puts her hand over her mouth, and I stifle a smile.

  “You’re a comedian,” Ash says. “No, it’s just I don’t want anyone to miss anything because they’re not feeling well.”

  “You’re absolutely right, honey,” Tim says to her.

  I roll my eyes. Tim’s a great guy, but he really needs to man up some more.

  He notices. “What? She’s right. We only plan on getting married once. We need to do this right.”

  “Thanks, babe.” Ash leans back against her fiancé, and he kisses the top of her head. She glares at me as though I suggested we stage a riot or something.

  We need a change of subject. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

  “The minivan will be here to collect us to go to the marina soon. Then it’s on the boat to El Arco and snorkeling.”

>   “Well, I’m going to go get ready.” Lacey stands and pushes her chair out. “You coming, Taylor?”

  “Sure. See you all soon.” Taylor stands.

  “In the lobby, ready to leave in fifteen minutes,” Ash instructs.

  Taylor laughs, tossing her long, thick hair. Her beauty gets me, right in the chest. “We’ll be there. Girl Scout honor.”

  I put my head down and concentrate on eating. I load up my fork with avocado and eggs and take a bite. I’ve got to stop noticing her, remind myself she’s just Tay Tay, my kid sister’s best friend. A woman not interested in me.

  Otherwise, this weekend will be nothing but complete and utter torture for me.

  CHAPTER 7

  Taylor

  We climb out of the hotel minivan at the marina, towels and beach gear in tow, ready for our boat trip to El Arco. As I look around, the word that springs to mind is “charming.” Surrounded by hills, the beautiful harbor has expensive white launches and yachts gently bobbing in the sparkling blue water. There’s a whole host of restaurants and bars nestled among a handful of stores. The place manages to be both lively and laid back at the same time—a perfect vacation combination.

  I pull my camera out of its case and snap a few shots. There’s a store full of colorful clothes and sombreros, and I crouch down to capture them. I breathe in the fresh sea air as I enjoy the light breeze against my warm skin. We may have come from summer in San Francisco, but it doesn’t punch anywhere near the heat of Cabo San Lucas, that’s for sure.

  “It’s gorgeous here, isn’t it?” Lacey is standing beside me, surveying the view.

  “Oh, yes. Do we have time to hang out here when we get back? I like the look of some of the shops and restaurants.”

  “You’ll have to ask General Ashley,” Jake says with a smirk, materializing beside me.

  “General Ashley. That’s funny.” I let out an artificial-sounding laugh, trying to appear normal.

  Fail.

  I steal a glance at him. He hasn’t shaved, and the brush of stubble across his face enhances his square jaw. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I like the way he’s wearing his hair these days. It’s longer, scruffier. His slim-fitting white T shows off his tan skin, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. He has the look of a man who doesn’t care a whole lot about his appearance, but his natural attractiveness can’t help but knock you square between the eyes.