Chapter 10

Evan hung out a couple of paces away from Riley’s car, the street lamps pooling their orange light on her as she unlocked the driver’s door. He really wanted to kiss her. They’d had a great afternoon and evening together, and he couldn’t wait to see her again.

“Thanks, Evan,” she finally said, turning toward him. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.” He smiled at her, sensing his opportunity fading right in front of him. “When can I see you again?”

“How about I text you?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t like that,” he said, taking a step toward her. He put one hand on the top of the sedan behind her and inched closer. “Tomorrow night?” He brushed his lips along the side of her face, dangerously close to her ear.

“I want to see the house,” she said. “You said we’d do that, and we didn’t have time.”

“Someone ordered too many rounds of chocolate cake,” he whispered, his blood flowing like fast-moving lava in his veins.

She put gentle pressure on his chest, but Evan knew the signal. Not tonight, rockstar. “Tomorrow night. I’ll come to your place. You show me around, cook me dinner. If you have a pool, we can swim.”

“I have a pool.” And now his fantasies were skipping through what her swimwear might look like.

“Call me babe again, and I won’t come.” She wore a very serious look on her face, and Evan knew enough not to laugh.

“I apologize that that particular endearment annoys you so much.”

She nodded, still quite somber. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, and he backed up another couple of feet. “And I want to know something real about you,” she said.

“I’ve told you real things,” he said, suddenly stung.

“I know.” She sighed. “It just feels…does this feel real to you?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “It doesn’t feel real to you?” What was he doing here, renting a house for six months and putting down roots, if it wasn’t real?

“It…does,” she said. “I like flirting with you. But I want serious conversation tomorrow night.”

“Serious conversation,” he repeated. “I can do that.”

“I hope so, Evan.” She tiptoed her fingers up his chest, lighting a fire with every touch, even through the fabric of his shirt. “I sure do like you, but I’m too old for games.”

“Honey, I’m way older than you. I don’t have time for games.” And he absolutely meant that. And apparently, he could use honey and sweetheart. But not babe.

“You are several years older than me,” she said with a smirk. She opened her car door and slid behind the wheel. He backed up again, waving to her as she backed out of the spot and headed for the parking lot exit.

He wasn’t sure why she got to be flirty and playful when she wanted to be, and he had to be serious when she wanted him to be. How would he even know which one he was supposed to be, and when?

He frowned at the thoughts.

He could only be himself. He liked to have fun, and sing loudly in the shower, and ride fast motorcycles. He loved burgers and ice cream and a sky full of stars. The beginnings of a song started playing in his head, and he straddled his bike to get back to his new house.

The car he’d used to get to Riley’s office wasn’t there anymore, which meant Carl had come to get it, just as he’d said he would. Of course he had. Carl always came through for Evan.

When he got back to the house, he snapped a picture of the front door and porch from his vantage point down the front steps. It looked like it belonged in a fairy tale, what with all the yellow lights making it seem like a magical place to sleep.

But he was just a man, and it was just a house. Riley sent him an emoji of a smiley face with hearts for eyes, so she obviously liked the house. The real question was whether she liked him.

No, that wasn’t the real question. He knew she liked him. She just didn’t think he was for real. So he’d show her that he was just a man, and he did normal things like other men. She wanted dinner and a lazy evening by the pool.

He didn’t cook, but he knew how to order food better than anyone. Well, maybe not better than Carl, but he wasn’t going to involve his brother in his romantic date.

Inside the house, with the door closed and locked behind him, a sense of privacy and security flowed over him. Carl hadn’t waited up, which actually surprised Evan. He wasn’t anywhere near ready for bed yet, so he stepped into the kitchen to find his brother’s paperwork neatly stacked in three piles on the dining room table.

What kind of food do you like? he texted to Riley. She didn’t answer for several minutes, and Evan’s mind revolved around where she lived on the island. She was probably driving, and Riley was nothing if not the type of woman to ignore her phone while behind the wheel.

There’s a grill here. We can have barbecue. Or burgers. Hot dogs.

Or I can get pizza.

Sushi.

I know! Chinese food. With some of those shaved ice I’ve heard about.

Evan just kept texting her, trying to decide if he was being serious or not. I love all kinds of food.

I’m sure you do, Riley finally answered. Some of us have to watch what we eat.

The only reason I can eat like I do is because I have a physical trainer, he tapped out to her. It’s actually in my contract.

You have a contract that requires you to work out?

Yes, he said.

And how do you feel about that?

He thought of the picture of him in the island newspaper he’d seen on the table at her office today, and that was when he appreciated the work Jake made him do. All other times, though, he wished he could sleep in or chill out instead of working out.

It’s okay, he messaged.

I sense some hesitation with that.

Who likes being yelled at while they run? He chuckled to himself. Because if you do, I’m not sure we should see each other again. He grinned as he imagined her laugh, glad when she sent another laughing emoji.

I don’t run, she said. You can get just as much benefit from walking.

Do you wear those sexy heels while you walk? He stared at the message and then thumbed it off again. “Nope,” he muttered to himself. “Not sending that.”

Maybe we could walk together, he sent instead. I pretty much don’t have a job for a couple of months.

I usually go in the evenings, Riley sent back. After work.

Monday after work then, he said, glad he’d get to see her tomorrow too. And hopefully Saturday. And Sunday. And if he could get this walk on Monday night set, he’d be well on his way to having a real girlfriend.

“Hey,” Carl said, startling Evan. He yelped and dropped his phone right as Riley’s response came in.

“You’re still up.”

“Someone has to make sure you’re still alive.” Carl opened the fridge and pulled out a soda.

“I’m still alive,” Evan said, instantly annoyed. He stooped to pick up his phone. “Riley’s coming over tomorrow night.”

Carl coughed and choked, cola spurting out of his mouth. He wiped himself up and asked, “Do I need to make myself scarce?”

“That would be great,” Evan said. “I’m supposed to cook for her, and—”

“Oh, boy,” Carl said, chuckling.

“And I’m going to give her a tour, and we’ll lay by the pool.”

“Sounds like something you’d do with a friend,” Carl said, giving Evan a knowing look that pierced him right to the heart. He left the kitchen before Evan could come up with something to say, and he looked down at his phone.

He still had a message from Riley, and it said, Maybe. If things go well tomorrow night.

Evan really didn’t like that message, but she’d sent another one. It’s so late, and I have to work tomorrow. I’ll see you about six? Text me your address.

Since he hadn’t responded right away, she’d said, Going to bed. I’ll check my phone in the morning.

He let his hand drop to his side, her messages ringing with a note of finality he didn’t like. And with Carl’s words bouncing around inside his mind, poisoning him, he left the kitchen with frustration building in his bloodstream.

Sounds like something you’d do with a friend.

The worst part? Carl wasn’t wrong.

***

When he woke the next day, he texted Riley his address and got in the shower. He’d been up late plucking on his guitar and writing lyrics he’d probably never use. Didn’t matter. He’d finally soothed his nerves and his ego enough to lay down. And he’d tired himself out enough to fall asleep. And in a couple of hours, he had a meeting with the billionaire group to deal with.

After that, he’d only have six more hours until he could see Riley again.

He realized how obsessive he sounded, and he told himself that he would not be asking her out again that night. If she wanted to see him again, she could suggest something.

He got on the treadmill, snapping a picture of himself to send to his trainer in California. Jake sent back several thumbs-up emojis, and Evan showered, dressed, and checked on the pool.

Riley had never said what she liked to eat, so he searched the Internet for the best food on the island of Getaway Bay, and then called the taco place that operated out of an old railway car.

They didn’t deliver, but he could pick-up at five-thirty and get back to his house in the gated community where he lived.

Carl knocked on the door, and Evan pulled it open and stepped back so his brother could scrutinize his outfit. “How’d I do?”

“Actually really good,” Carl said. “The slacks look great. Shirt is buttoned, but not to stuffily.”

“I’m having some weird brunch with bankers and plantation owners,” Evan said. “And I’m not even sure why.”

“They wanted to meet you,” Carl said. “And you’re literally two concerts away from becoming a billionaire yourself. It wouldn’t hurt you to have some connections.”

Evan wasn’t sure why he needed connections on the island of Getaway Bay unless he was planning to stop singing and live here full-time. The idea actually appealed to him, but he kept it inside his mind. No need to get Carl riled up before breakfast.

“Jasper is here,” Carl said. “And he’s a nice guy. Owns diamond mines. But nice.”

“Great,” Evan said, following Carl down the hall. “Are there other rockstars in the group?”

“No,” Carl said. “A pineapple plantation owner. Former poker player. The woman who owns the largest financial something-or-other. The twins who own a cruise line. There is a banker.”

“I knew it,” Evan joked as they entered the main hall. A dark-haired man stood there, and he turned toward Evan at the sound of his voice.

“You must be Evan Garfield.” He smiled as if he legit owned a diamond mine, but Evan got a genuine vibe from him.

“Guilty.” He shook the man’s hand. “And you’re Jasper…” He glanced at Carl, sensing his brother’s frustration with him. “Rosequist,” he added quickly, the last name Carl had given him in an email coming to him suddenly.

“Guilty,” Jasper said with a light laugh. “Are you ready? We can head over to the resort.”

“Ready,” Evan said, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to brunch with a bunch of billionaires. He followed Jasper out the front door anyway, and by the time they got to Sweet Breeze, Evan had realized one thing about Jasper that he wished everyone would know about him.

He was just a regular guy.