Down for the Count (Dare Me) - By Christine Bell Page 0,13

latest cheerleader in his life, clueless to her pain. And eventually, she’d moved on and lived her own life, engaging in a few awkward relationships with guys more her speed, despite the floopy feeling she still got in her gut whenever he was around. And then she ended up with Marty. Surely, after all this time, her heart should have gotten the memo? It was ridiculous, given the total lack of encouragement on his end. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to discourage her attention at every turn, teasing her mercilessly, debating with her over anything and everything, baiting her into petty arguments.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, he’d been sweet, and thoughtful, and plain perfect. He’d come to her rescue like…like a knight on shining Harley. She snort-laughed at the ludicrous thought and picked up her comb. Leave it to her to romanticize a nice gesture. He’d done nothing more than help out his sister’s friend. No need to read into it more deeply than that. He was probably out there right now, mired in regret, and ready to gnaw off his own limb to escape the bear trap he’d found himself in. He’d be ecstatic when she let him off the hook.

After a few swipes with the comb, she tugged her hair into a loose knot and clipped it, then slicked on some lip gloss. She pulled on the tank top and boxers she’d slept in and turned toward the door. Time to convince him she was okay, and his duty was done. Pasting on a smile, she stepped into the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be found. Music drifted from the living room, and she followed the strains of the salsa into the suite’s main room.

“Hey there. Feel better?”

The speech she’d planned died on her lips, unspoken as she took in the scene before her. Galen sat in a lounge chair out on the terrace in board shorts and nothing else. His swarthy skin gleamed in the sunlight, the dips and valleys of his muscles so cut and defined that they could’ve been drawn on with a Sharpie.

“Lacey?”

She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze upward to meet his. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yep. You’re hot.” Her cheeks burned. “I mean…it’s hot. Out here. So that’s why I’m, yanno…hot.” She fanned her cheeks for good measure. Brilliant.

His dark eyes danced with mirth. “So, now that we’ve established that Puerto Rico is warm, how are you feeling?”

She looked away. “I’m better, thanks.”

“I ordered some breakfast. Just fruit, yogurt, and some toast. I didn’t think your stomach could handle much else.” He gestured to the spread in front of him. “Sit and eat, and then we can talk. You want coffee?”

She stepped through the French doors and onto the white tiled floor. The warm breeze flirted with the wisps of hair around her face, and she sighed.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

In spite of the music playing in the background, she could hear the ocean lapping at the shore only a hundred yards away. She walked the length of the patio, around a small swimming pool, until she could see it. Gorgeous. Caribbean blue, so pure it didn’t seem real. Her throat went tight with regret.

“I can’t stay, though,” she whispered, then faced Galen. “I can’t stay,” she repeated, louder this time for his benefit.

His face gave away nothing, but he stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Come here.”

She doubted she could eat, but she sat anyway. He flipped over her mug and poured her some coffee.

“They didn’t give us cream. I think we have to order American coffee if we want it next time.”

Next time.

“That’s okay, I like it like this. But I was serious, Galen. There won’t be a next time. I need to borrow your phone and make arrangements to go home. My parents are probably a wreck. This was totally irresponsible of me, and I have to make it right.”

He set his cup down and met her gaze. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, you didn’t fuck everything up. Marty did. So why do you have to make it right? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Easy for him to say. In spite of her mother’s feelings on the subject, once her dad got wind of what had happened, there was no way he would allow the merger to go forward until she talked to him. He might have been something of an absentee father, but he wouldn’t take kindly to someone mistreating his little girl this way. And there was still