“This time of year pineapples are in season. I’d love to feed you a fresh pineapple. Ripe and juicy.”
“Colt, I can’t just up and leave. I run a business!”
“I wish I knew what that were like.”
OK, he had a point. He ran a business, quite a large one at that. But he had a big team of people on whom he could depend. “I don’t have anyone to look after the store,” I reminded him.
“Yes, you do. You told me you have a woman who works for you.”
“I don’t think I could trust her with the store for days on end.”
“Caroline, do you have trust issues?”
“Oh, now I have psychological problems because I won’t fly to Fiji with you at the drop of a hat?”
“Who’s flying to Fiji?” Zoe walked into the kitchen looking suspicious.
“I’ve got to go.” I ended the call and met her wary gaze.
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Colton Kavanaugh. The man who took me to dinner last week.”
She raised her eyebrows. “The corporate creep?”
“I don’t know if I’d call him that.”
“How about rich asshole trying to build up our coastline and tear down your store?”
“Not sure I’d call him that either.” I tilted my head, scratching behind my ear, uncomfortable.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for his bullshit.”
“Zoe.” Exasperated, hands up on my hips, I summoned the command of my 26-years, a full five more than she had. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How could you trust a guy like him? He’s, like, every corporate sleezeball I’ve ever seen in a movie wrapped up into one guy.”
“Maybe you’ve seen a lot of stupid movies?”
“Mom and Dad would hate him.”
“Yeah, well, they loved Evan. So, I’m not sure how much I should listen to their opinion.” They’d thought Evan had been so cool with his guitar and his surfboard and his “follow which way the wind blows” attitude. They’d even joked around with him about how he’d be good for me and loosen me up. I was their uptight child. It never seemed to occur to them that I was uptight because I had to be. Someone in the family had to put dinner on the table.
“Why do you hate Colt so much?” I turned the questions back on Zoe. “Is it just because he’s rich?”
“It’s not only that, its everything he represents. The entitled asshole guy who’s been given everything he’s wanted in life. Why does he want to take you to Fiji, anyway?”
“To check out an eco-resort and see if something like it could be built here, too.”
“So it’s not because he likes you.”
I flinched. “Zoe, that’s kind of mean.” I turned my back on her and started to leave the room. I didn’t mind talking about Colt, but once she started in on me I was less interested in having the conversation.
“All I’m doing is pointing out the obvious. He wants to take you to Fiji to end that protest you started.”
“He doesn’t have to take me to Fiji to do that.” I spun around. “He wants to take me because he wants to go to Fiji with me! Is that so hard to believe? And maybe I want to go to Fiji with him!” Funny how quickly I shifted gears, from telling Colt I couldn’t go to defending my right to go.
“What will I eat while you’re gone?” Now Zoe got big-eyed and sad-looking.
“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” I wasn’t having her drama.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I’m going to make my own decision, Zoe.”
Now she stormed out, leaving early for her night shift. I stood there, upset, wondering if I’d been out of line or was she being a giant brat? I felt so unmoored. Colt was knocking everything in my life completely out of balance. I didn’t know yet if that was a bad or a good thing.
My phone rang again. Of course it was Colt.
“My pilot needs to know where he’s taking me after my meeting.”
“Where’s your meeting again?”
“Seattle. And I want to fly back to Redwood Bay afterward. What do you think, Caroline? Would you like to see me again?”
I paused, so many emotions flooding me. But if I made things simple and just thought about his question, the answer was yes. Hell yes, I wanted to see him again. “I’m off work at three tomorrow,” I offered.
“I don’t mean tomorrow. I mean tonight.”
“Well, yes I want to see you, but—” Tonight? My head was spinning.
“Good. We can discuss leaving for Fiji later this week.”
“Are you always this relentless?”
“Always.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
“Yes. I’ll see you later, Caroline.”
And he was off to his jet-setting life, taking a meeting in the next state. He was probably playing a round of golf with the CEOs of Amazon and Starbucks. Maybe he could get me a couple of gift cards.
This whole thing was unbelievable. And maybe Zoe was right, maybe he was the living embodiment of a corporate titan, a raider stomping his way through life, plundering and wreaking havoc without a care or concern for the little people. But even if he was, couldn’t I just enjoy myself for once? The man looked like a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Or at least that’s how I pictured him without his shirt on, standing there in boxer briefs, all abs and pecs, giving me that “you know you want it” sexy smile.
And he wanted to take me to a lavish resort in Fiji!! FIJI! Maybe I should figure out where that was?
Curling up on my couch, I opened my laptop and searched. Up popped images of turquoise waters and white sandy beaches, palm trees and perfectly light blue skies without a cloud in sight. Oh my. I already felt warmer, right down to my toes, just looking at those pictures. It was March, which in Oregon meant fog and more fog with a side of fog. That pretty much described every month of weather on our coast, at least in the mornings.
I did love it. I wasn’t trying to trash our little town. But even I had to admit, it wore on me after a while. Those bright colors popping off of my screen, the vibrant greens and blue of the tropics? They seemed like the perfect antidote.
Jumping up, I headed down and into the spooky basement of our shared rental house. We had storage space down there, and I thought I had a suitcase but I wasn’t even sure it would be usable. But I got lucky. After I scrubbed off the mildew, it looked fine. Colt’s luggage would probably thumb its nose at mine, but I wouldn’t care so long as it transported my belongings from this side of the earth to the other.
Before I could start thinking too hard and psyching myself out, I started throwing clothes onto my bed. It soon looked like a schizophrenic had been hard at work. First, a pair of sensible pants and a long-sleeved, high-necked top. We were supposed to be discussing business, after all. Then a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. Because I did hope Colt would strip me down in the heat of passion. But then again, maybe Zoe was right and this was just his way of trying to settle the protest? Better pack another sensible shirt and shorts.
But where was that bikini? I did have one, an impulse online purchase from a couple years ago. I’d never worn it. Maybe I should try it on?
I found it, balled up in the back of a drawer, barely enough fabric to really be considered a bathing suit. I fastened the ties and stood there, looking at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. What would Colt think of me in this? I was all curves, bursting at the seams, popping out on top, the ties on my hips barely seeming like they would hold. He could undo it all with the flick of a finger.
I’d been too shy to wear it until now. And when would I have had occasion to slip into it? We barely had enough hot sunny days on our coastline, and a bikini like this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I could run around in outside. We had a local pool and sometimes I went there, usually with Zoe, but again, I’d never wanted to attract too much attention.
But with Colt? In Fiji? I wanted al
l of his attention. I wanted to feel what it would be like to be adored. To have a man rub me down with oil and love each and every one of my curves. Was that so wrong?
My phone blipped with a text from Hannah: call me.
Hastily, and a little guiltily, I took off the bikini and added it to the eclectic mix of clothes. I slipped on a sundress instead, giving myself a twirl in the mirror before I called Hannah back. Yes, I was definitely packing that sundress. It swished and swirled around me, making me feel decadent and relaxed and I hadn’t even stepped on the plane.
“What’s this about Fiji?!?” she asked, sounding as excited and bewildered as I felt. I explained it to her, including the fact that I hadn’t said yes. Yet.
“You have to go,” she declared, end of debate. “But promise me you won’t get all starry-eyed over him?”
“Starry-eyed?” I knew what she meant, but my ego felt bruised. Did she not think I could handle this?
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t start writing ‘Mrs. Caroline Kavanaugh’ all over your notebooks. Though, actually, that sounds kind of cool. Caroline Kavanaugh.”