There’s a pretty magnificent one in front of me now too. Skyler sits across the table from me at one of the reliable restaurants near—but not too near—the island’s hotels. After we dropped the other guests back in town, we made it here for that burger and beer—to prove a point. Simply to show her why this is one of the top items on my list.
We give our order—burgers and beers—and Skyler gushes about today’s adventure until the latter arrives, and she stops to take an appreciative sip and then sighs.
“Thumbs-up on one of your items,” she says.
“Half of an item,” I amend, and we both settle in a bit with our drinks.
“All right,” I say. “Beer is here, burger is on the way. Now . . . what’s the story with this trip?”
“First, I want to know where your love of . . . strategy comes from.”
I shake my head and sigh. “I’m not going to convince you I’m not a rules guy, am I?”
“Let me think,” she says. “No.”
“Fine. I’m not conceding that I am, but here you go. I loved sports as a kid, and all kinds of games. Board games, like Monopoly, and sports like soccer, and absolutely anything I could do in the water. I competed in swimming, water polo . . .”
“I can see why you think in terms of strategy then.”
I shrug. “So, I approach life the same way, I suppose. If you want to play the game, you need to follow the rules.”
She nods. “That makes sense. I get that. I feel like I get you now, Caleb.” She pauses, tilts her head to the side. “Does that seem strange?”
“Not at all,” I reply, because funny thing—I think she does. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about the trip.”
“I was originally going to take a trip to do spa-type things. It’s my single-versary.”
“Ah. Single for a year?”
Holding up a finger, she clarifies, “Voluntarily single.”
“Of course. Hence the celebration trip.”
“Thank you! Finally, someone gets it.” She leans her elbows on the table, beer glass between her hands. “I needed a break. I was in a relationship a year ago that became a little too all-consuming, and I kind of lost sight of myself. So, I’ve been working really hard not to do that again.”
I nod, because I do get it. “Hence the man-batical. But that’s great that you recognized what you needed and did that for yourself.”
“Exactly.” She takes another sip of beer then places it down on the table. “Your turn. What’s your dating story?”
“It’s sort of the opposite of yours. As I said, my ex wanted too much too soon. And honestly . . .” I grimace. “She got a little clingy.”
Skyler tilts her head, curious but not judging. “What happened?”
“Like early on, bringing sweet rolls from a local bakery to my home office one morning was a surprise treat, you know? But then it was lunch several times a week, then it was homemade lunch . . .”
“Hmm,” she says. “That sends a very domestic message.”
I nod. “That and the constant hints for an invitation to everything I did or anywhere I went—I hardly knew her and she wanted to be an us.”
“That’s it!” Skyler sits up straighter. “I am trying to know me before I’m part of a we!”
I grin. “That’s brilliant.”
And I can’t help but think how lucky someone will be to pair up with someone so confident in herself. That’s the kind of woman I want.
One day.
“Enough about exes,” I say, before I get myself in even deeper. “Thing is, I really shouldn’t even be having a drink with you.”
“Ooh.” She leans her chin on her fist, sexy and adorable at the same time. “Are there rules against hanging out with a customer?”
“If ‘hanging out’ is code for hanging out, then yes. We should definitely not be . . .” Her gorgeous pouting mouth is enough to make me forget what I’m saying. “Hanging out.”
She’s leaning closer over the table, or maybe I am. “No . . . something on the side?”
“Definitely, absolutely no something on the side. No side, no starter, and especially no dessert.”
“Here are your burgers.” The waiter’s interruption is the best and worst thing to happen. Skyler and I both sit straighter as he sets our plates in front of us.
“Thanks, man,” I say.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
He vanishes as Skyler and I trade glances. She presses her lips together as if trying not to smile. I’m not a mind reader, but a good tour guide learns to anticipate a guest’s needs, and I suspect hers would coincide with mine just now.
I nod to her plate. “Let me know if you think this is a top five.”
She takes a bite and makes distracting, delicious noises. “Yeah, I can definitely see why this is on your top five list. But what about waves? You’ll have to explain the appeal.”