The Romance Plan - Lila Monroe Page 0,43

and a perfectly fitted gray T-shirt. His sneakers are spotlessly white. “Even your coffee order is no-frills.”

I can tell he’s surprised to see me too, and I’m grateful I changed into a cute sundress before leaving Verity’s earlier. “The point is the caffeine, isn’t it?” he asks.

“The point is to enjoy yourself every once in a while,” I counter. “Not everything has to be as efficient as humanly possible.”

“Well.” Liam seems to consider that. “I suppose you have a point.” He clears his throat. “In that case,” he says, and I’m not sure if I’m imagining that he sounds just a tiny bit shy, “what about lunch?”

I blink. “What?”

He nods across the street at the general store. “Since we both seem to have some time this afternoon, what if we grab a picnic, make a day of it?”

I’m so shocked, he may as well have suggested a little light bondage. “You and me?”

Liam’s face darkens. “Unless—you don’t want to?”

“No, I’d love to,” I say, which is the truth. “I’m just surprised.”

“Well,” he says, the barest hint of a smile playing across his mouth, “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, if you get to know me.”

“I… think you might be right.” I’m barely able to keep from grinning back at him. “Let’s go.”

* * *

We pick up hot buttered lobster rolls at the general store, plus chips and fruit salad and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. “Where to?” I ask, once we’re loaded down with provisions and my stomach is rumbling loud enough to stop traffic.

But Liam is mysterious. “You’ll see,” is all he says, so I get in the car beside him, and hope it’s not a five-mile hike he has in mind. But soon we arrive at a marina not far from town, the midday sun glinting on the water and the salty breeze ruffling my hair. “Wait a minute,” I say, following him over to the jetty. “You just happen to have a boat docked here?”

Liam shakes his head. “Not exactly,” he says, “although that would have been neat, wouldn’t it?” He winks—Liam Sterling! Winking! What has gotten into this guy? “Wait here.”

I clutch our bag full of treats, squinting through my sunglasses as he heads over to chat with the harbormaster. And I’ll say this for the guy: he knows how to turn on the charm when it really counts. Five minutes later, he’s waving me over to a gorgeous sailboat. “Money talks, huh?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief as I climb aboard.

Liam laughs, bashful. “Something like that.”

The deck of the boat is beautiful, all glossy wood and bright white cushions for lounging. But let’s face it, we could be on a broken-down dinghy, and I wouldn’t care. I tie my hair back with a scarf and get myself settled as Liam hoists the sails, nimble fingers moving over the knots in a quick, practiced way that makes me wonder just what else he can do with those hands.

I clear my throat. “Are guys like you just born knowing how to do that?” I ask, only half-kidding.

“Guys like me?” Liam asks, straightening up as we glide out into open water.

I grin. “Rich guys.”

He laughs. “I didn’t grow up rich,” he reminds me. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Harry made sure we had everything we needed, but my mom is a crystal-loving hippie from Berkeley. It was more organic tofu and morning meditation than polo at the country club.”

That stops me. “Really?” I can’t picture it, and it must show on my face, because Liam grins.

“Yeah, yeah. My mom has no idea where I came from, either.” He ducks his head, bashful. “Anyway, it was a good childhood. But it wasn’t like…” he trails off.

“Like Betsy and Bryce?” I supply.

“Exactly.” Liam nods. “Anyway, I learned to sail in college for fun. Turns out it’s a good way to impress girls.”

“Oh yeah?” I raise my eyebrows. “Do I look impressed?”

“You look beautiful,” he says, no hesitation at all. I blush, but by the time I manage to look up again, he’s focused on the sails again, his back turned.

Still, I can’t keep the smile off my face.

It’s a perfect day to be out on the ocean, sunny and not too hot, and I tilt my face up to catch some rays as Liam steers us through the calm, clear water. There’s a part of me that can’t entirely relax, that’s dying to know what’s going on here—but, I remind myself again, this isn’t a