Better than the Book (Charitable Endeavors #4) - M.E. Carter Page 0,27
to. And that’s when I see it. I’ve been so focused on his hair and his beard, I didn’t notice the circles under his eyes until now. The man is exhausted. This is probably the only vacation he’s had in way too long. As much as I want that interview, now isn’t the time.
Putting my hand on his forearm, I swear his skin burns my hand. It’s like a zap of electricity. More than likely, it’s the tiny hairs on his arm being extra hot from a tropical sun, but I still notice. “We’re in Turks and Caicos. I’m deeming it a no-work zone. How about we find a table and just talk like friends instead?”
His mega-watt smile, the same one I saw after everyone else had left our meet and greet flashes my way. “I’d like that.”
“Do you want to order a drink while we’re here?”
Nodding, he places an order for a whiskey on the rocks and a water. I suck down the rest of my sangria and order another. With our drinks in hand, we wind our way through the outdoor space, passing the newlyweds who have reappeared and are speaking to the DJ before he asks everyone to take their seats as the bride and groom move to the middle of the small dance floor area. A sweet love song fills the air as the happy couple sways together. I ignore the fact that Carrie looks a little more disheveled than she did thirty minutes ago. None of my business and the less I know the better. Besides, who can blame her? Her husband is hot.
But so is the guy walking close behind me. Even with No-Shave-Vacation, which apparently also means not keeping the new beard cleaned up, he’s still incredibly attractive, his piercing green eyes only one-upped by the magnificent smile he gives me. When we sit, I also notice his teeth fidgeting with his bottom lip. Is it a nervous tell? Interesting.
“Is this your first time in Turks and Caicos?”
“It is,” he says, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His feet cross at the ankles and I find it incredibly sexy, which is the weirdest thought I’ve had all day. “I realized yesterday this is my first vacation in over a decade.”
No wonder he looks this exhausted. “What? That’s too long.”
“I know,” he says with an amused grin. “But you know how it is. Once I moved to New York, it was all about my career. I was living off Ramen and picking up quarters on the sidewalk, hoping to collect enough for rent. A vacation was a distant fantasy.”
I neglect to tell him that’s how I still live.
“Then once I joined the cast, work has been non-stop. I travel quite often but don’t actually stop to enjoy it. I’m glad I’m finally getting to breathe for a few days. Plus it beats the hell out of camping with my brother.”
“Was that your last vacation?” I settle back in my chair, enjoying the warm breeze blowing through my hair.
“Yep. The whole family went. My dad had us convinced it would be a fun family outing.”
“Uh oh. Sounds like there’s a story there,” I say as I bring my drink to my lips.
The sound of his quiet laughter is something I could get used to. “Let’s just say we discovered quickly my mother is more of a glamper than a camper.”
“I agree with her on that one. So your parents are still together?”
“Going on thirty-five years.”
“Wow. That’s impressive. I think my parents maybe lasted five before calling it quits.”
Hunter’s eyes soften, like every other person who finds out my parents are divorced. “I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”
I shrug. “Not really. I was little so it’s my normal. Besides, two houses means double everything… holidays, presents, grandparents. Worked to my benefit.”
“That doesn’t sound bad at all.”
“It wasn’t. And since my mother loves to travel and it was just the two of us, we spent a lot of time exploring. She’s in the Galapagos Islands with her husband now.”
We continue talking about anything and everything, as the evening turns into night: his European tour that sounds like a total shit show, my inability to make it to a convention for three years running which he found way too humorous, the role he hopes to get in a small Sundance type film, my disappointment at being passed over for a second assistant stage manager position on a Broadway show.