I try and focus on the movie again but my gaze wanders to Thayer for a couple of seconds. He looks good from this angle.
Who am I kidding, he looks good from every angle …
His hands are folded across his lap as his legs stretch across the rest of his side of the sectional. He’s so close I can smell his cologne … something like cedar and citrus and definitely top shelf. He was out on the dock earlier, helping his grandfather with something. I’m guessing he came back and took a shower after, which explains why he smells like a million bucks.
“This movie is boring.” Whitley sighs, sitting up and reaching for her Seventeen magazine.
“It’s been five freaking minutes, Whit.” Her brother huffs before reaching across and yanking the magazine from her hands and tossing it back on the table.
“Hey,” she says.
“Watch.” He points at the TV before readjusting his baseball cap, which I’m beginning to realize never leaves his head. And I’m not sure why because he’s an attractive guy with a full head of tousled auburn waves. I guess everyone has their thing …
Thayer turns to give me a wink, as if to say he agrees that these two are annoying as hell. Or maybe I’m assuming that’s what he’s implying. It’s too soon to think we’re on mind-reading levels.
Once again, I turn my attention back to the show. I’m a little lost, but I’m sure I’ll catch up.
We’re twenty minutes in when a chill runs through me. I’m realizing it gets cold here at night and once the temperature drops, it drops fast. Also, I’m realizing that although Bertram is richer than the devil, he’s also a frugal bastard, opting not to heat the three gigantic houses at night because “blankets are cheaper.”
I run my hands along my bare arms, my fingertips tracing the gooseflesh, and then I draw my knees against my chest. It only takes Thayer a few seconds to turn his attention to me.
“You cold?” he whispers.
I nod.
Without hesitation, he pops up and heads to a sea grass bench by the window, lifting the lid and pulling out a thick plaid blanket lined with fleece.
“Here,” he says, covering me up.
Again with the niceties …
“Thanks,” I whisper.
From the corner of my eye, I can tell Westley’s watching. Whitley is shockingly oblivious. Guess she’s into the movie after all.
As soon as my shivers subside, I get back into the movie—sucked back in actually. In fact, I’m so into it I completely lose track of time. It’s like I blinked and it was over.
Westley stops the movie and Whitley gets the lights and I head to the door to grab my shoes.
“Thanks for the hang tonight, guys,” I say, stepping into my leather sandals.
The twins mutter tired responses.
Thayer makes his way across the room. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to.” I reach for the doorknob but he gets it first, and then he follows me outside.
I stick my hands in the pockets of my cut-off shorts and hightail it toward my grandparents’ cottage in the frigid, ocean-scented wind.
“Hey, wait up,” he jogs to catch up with me and when he does, I stop in my tracks.
“Why?” I ask, hands on my hips as the wind whips my hair in my face. “Why do you keep … why are you so … what is your end game here?”
Lines cross his forehead as he peers down at me, and I fully realize now how tall he is and how the top of my head would fit perfectly beneath his chin.
But I snap myself out of it.
“End game?” he asks.
“You obviously want something or you wouldn’t be bending over backwards to treat me like some guest of honor when I’m just the girl who scrubs your freaking toilet.”
“Jesus, Lila.” He rests on hand on his hip, the other rakes through his hair, and then he looks away. “Is that what you think? That I want something from you?”
I lift my brows, a silent, “Obviously.”
“Lila …” he sighs. “You’ve been through one of the worst things anyone could ever possibly go through. And then you were ripped from your home and your friends and your life and flown all the way across the country and forced to live on an island with a bunch of strangers. I look at you … and I see that you’re hurting. Even when you’re running that smart mouth of yours. And yeah. You’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous in this warm, exotic way that makes you stick out like a sore thumb in a state like Maine. You also confuse me. And intrigue me. But I would never prey on you. I would never show you kindness just so I could take advantage of you …”
My heart knocks around in my chest as I listen to him ramble on. There’s no gentleness to his tone like earlier, there’s an edge to it. Like I got him worked up. Like I offended him by thinking he was anything other than what he’s claiming to be.