The Island Hideaway, page 4
Probably, probably, probably, she told herself all the way up to the bluffs and into the garage. Then she got out and left Noah in the backseat to get himself out.
The scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon urged her awake the following morning. Zara rolled over and breathed in deep, comfortable and warm and still woozy. She’d been having the best dream about lying by the swimming pool at the mansion, a smoothie from The Straw on the ground beside her chaise.
The sun was glorious. The view even better. And then Noah had come out, bringing pizza and chocolate chip cookies for her. He’d put them on the table nearby and taken off his shirt—
Zara’s eyes snapped open.
No…she had not just had a summer fantasy about Noah. The man was absolutely maddening, even if he knew his way around a kitchen.
She sat up and pushed the comforter off her legs. She wasn’t even that hungry. Her stomach chose that moment to protest loudly about how long ago her last meal had been, and she reached for her phone to see how late she was.
“Only seven-thirty?” she asked as if she couldn’t believe the numbers on the home screen of her phone. She had swimming practice that morning at nine, so she’d shower after work. So maybe she had time for a quick bite to eat before heading out.
The fact that she never ate breakfast…well, no one needed to know that. Especially not the handsome man standing in the kitchen, twirling a pair of tongs like they were drumsticks as he sang along with the music blasting through the house.
She leaned against the wall and watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. So maybe he was adorable when he let go of his stuffy Prince persona. Maybe he was capable of having a conversation that didn’t include sarcastic remarks and barking commands.
He flipped a few pieces of bacon and lifted the tongs to his mouth like they were a microphone.
Zara couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth.
Noah stiffened and turned toward her, a perfectly pleasing blush entering his cheeks.
“Oh, go on,” she said with a sweeping motion of her arm. “I have a feeling we were just getting to the good part.”
He reached up to a speaker on top of the fridge and turned down the music. “What?”
She shook her head and kept grinning. “Nothing. Are you sure you’re a prince?” She gasped, but it was obviously fake and over-the-top. “Maybe you’re Prince. You know, the Prince. They reported that he’d passed away, but I don’t know….” She cocked her head. “I think you kind of look like him.”
Noah frowned, reached to turn off the burner under the bacon, and twisted away from her as he lined a plate with paper towels. “Who’s Prince?”
“Oh, now that’s just sad,” Zara said as she moved into the kitchen and took her spot at the bar. “You don’t know who Prince is?”
“No, I don’t.” And the barking was back.
“He’s a pop star,” Zara said, eyeing the cinnamon rolls and enjoying herself entirely too much. “I don’t think he used tongs for a mic, though.” She giggled, and Noah turned around, half a smile on his face too.
“I’m definitely not a pop star.”
“What I heard goes to the contrary.” This banter—flirtatious banter?—was better than the sarcastic jabs. At least Zara liked it better.
He set the plate of bacon on the counter and asked, “Are you eating or going?”
“Eating first,” she said. “Then going. I have practice today.” Then she’d bring in all the stuff she’d packed at her apartment. She had another week to get everything out, and she was planning to make several trips.
“What time are you going down on Thursday?” he asked, using a rubber spatula to retrieve a cinnamon roll from the pan.
“I have practice at nine,” she said.
“Can I get a ride to Your Tidal Forever?” He looked at her, and for a moment, Zara felt like she was falling.
A breath in, then out, and everything righted itself. She looked away, suddenly self-conscious with him. With her heart beating at the speed of hummingbird wings, she reached for a piece of bacon.
“Sure, yeah,” she said, a nervous undertone to the words. “We’ll just have to leave a little earlier. My practice facility is in the other bay.”
“Tell me what time,” he said, the words gentle. “And I’ll be ready.”
Zara nodded and busied herself with bacon and frosted buns, this new energy between them completely different than before. Had he felt it too? Had she just never looked him fully in the eyes before?
She wasn’t sure how she even felt, and her stomach turned over and over as she cleaned up her dishes, gathered her swim gear, and drove down to town. As she pulled into the parking lot at the amphitheater, where they’d be practicing that morning, Zara realized she’d been attracted to Noah.
Physically and emotionally attracted to him.
“Not happening,” she muttered to herself as she heaved her heavy bag onto her shoulder and joined a couple of other women heading into the locker room.
So not happening.
After all, he was a prince in a country several oceans over, and she was a synchronized swimmer with a very traditional Indian family. The very idea of bringing Noah home to meet her parents was laughable—and caused a healthy dose of fear to tumble through her. Her mother would eat Noah for breakfast.
No, she’d house sit for the summer. Keep the paparazzi away from Noah. She’d get to lie by the pool and drink her fruity smoothies and perform in her shows at night.
Noah would do…whatever Noah was doing in Getaway Bay, and then Zara’s life would go back to normal.
She took a deep breath, getting quite the lungful of chlorine, satisfied with this new plan no matter how much her heart wailed at her to please give Noah a chance.
Do you want to get broken? she asked it as she changed into her dark blue practice suit and made sure she had her goggles and nose clips. Because that’s what’ll happen. Men like Noah…they break hearts.
Her pulse finally settled after that, and she could focus on what she needed to do that day—master the three-sixty leg kick while wearing heels in the swimming pool. She definitely didn’t have room for Noah Wales in her brain too.
Chapter Six
Noah checked all the Internet gossip headlines, and he only found one talking about him and Katya. Nothing he hadn’t seen or read before, even if none of it was true. Truth didn’t matter on the Internet, nor to the “journalists” that reported on celebrity news.
This particular one had been on his tail for a decade, and Noah was honestly surprised he’d been able to sneak out of Venice without the guy knowing or following him. Tomas seemed to know where Noah was before Noah himself had a plan.
He stood at the sliding glass doors in his suite, looking out at the ocean. He had always wanted to learn to surf, and he’d been doubly excited to learn if Zara would be the teacher.
“And that makes no sense,” he murmured to his faint reflection in the window. He couldn’t even step out onto the balcony and breathe in the Hawaiian air. No, he hadn’t seen any drones out. No one sniffing around the house. Nothing.
Of course, he hadn’t left the house for more than the few hours he’d gone down to Your Tidal Forever, and then a few minutes on the beach. No one had recognized him. Of course, all the people at the wedding planning business had been so focused on the tasks they were doing for the Marsh wedding, and people at the beach didn’t care who else was there.
Noah had the strangest urge to leave this house. He’d never had a problem being confined to a castle before; he’d done it many times. He’d been late to a few interviews because he was working with the Grandparents Patrol in Triguard. The reporters had been rude, and Noah may have snapped back at them.
It was something no one else in his family would’ve done. They would’ve smiled and apologized, answered all the questions, and kept the family’s public image through the roof. Noah was obviously the black sheep. The bad boy.
He shook his head. After that incident and the multiple articles that had been printed about his “short fuse,” he’d started to work at the library with underprivileged children in the country, as well as keep his hours with the elderly.
That had gone well, and he’d managed to build back up most of his image. He didn’t mind the work, but he felt like he wasn’t really doing anything with his life. Damien, his older brother, would take over the kingdom, and he was practically perfect in every way. But he didn’t spend hours and hours volunteering the way Noah did.
His sister Louisa dealt with a lot of the same pressures as Noah, but she was prim and proper and actually liked it. She had a serious boyfriend she’d been dating for five years, and the wedding plans had been in the works for a solid eighteen months.
Noah hadn’t received a Save the Date for his own sister’s wedding, which meant it was still months away. He had no doubt Louisa would tie the knot with Eric Newman, because they were a smart match—and they loved each other.
Noah had wondered many times over the years if he’d ever find someone he could love. He’d considered leaving the island country where generations of Wales had been born and raised and going to America, finding a job, and living a more normal life. No one would recognize him, and he’d find someone to live the rest of his life with, the way they did in those romance movies his mom loved so much.
He sighed and turned away from the window. Boomer barked, and Noah rolled his eyes. “Come on, then,” he said and opened the bedroom door. Boomer scampered through door, his claws clicking on the tile in the hall. He ran downstairs, and Noah supposed his bathroom needs were quite urgent.
Following, he paused just before the door and opened it a crack. Boomer nosed his way out, and Noah stayed out of sight. If there was someone around and they saw his dog, though, they might as well have seen him.
He could probably go outside just for a few minutes while his dog took care of business. He did, his bare feet touching the grass and found it hot. Of course, it would be hot. It was June in Getaway Bay, in the middle of the day, and everything was hot.
He tipped his head back and looked into the sky, taking a deep breath of the stale, heated air. It wasn’t that much better out here than inside, but he somehow didn’t feel as caged.
Inside, a door slammed. Boomer barked and headed back in, and Noah turned that way too. “It’s just Zara,” he said to the dog, but Boomer barked a couple more times and then Zara started giggling.
The sound wormed its way right under his skin, heating his blood and making his pulse accelerate. He stepped over to the door and peered in to see her kneeling down, scrubbing Boomer’s back and telling him what a good boy he was.
How would she even know?
But Noah enjoyed watching her, and Boomer obviously liked the attention. He licked her face, and she laughed again.
“How was practice?” he asked as he stepped inside and brought the door closed behind him.
“Oh.” Zara quieted and stood up. She picked up her bag, and it looked like it was heavy. He wondered how much swimming suits and swim caps could weigh, but he didn’t say anything. What he wanted to say, he couldn’t.
If I asked, would you go to dinner with me?
Number one, they couldn’t leave the house to go somewhere on the island. With all the modern apps, he could get anything delivered to the house. Well, Zara could. He didn’t want to call and order anything, nor answer the door. So trying to have a romantic dinner with her would be impossible.
The fact that he wanted to have a romantic date with her was insane. Completely insane.
“What’s your show called?” he asked next, because she hadn’t answered his first question and she stood there, staring at him.
“Fresh Start,” she said.
“Anyone can get tickets?” He took another step closer, his eyes locked onto hers. Hers were dark with hints of gold, and he wanted to dive in and bask in the warmth of them.
“Well, yes,” she said, backing up against the island in the kitchen. “But we’ve been sold out for a while.”
Sold out? Noah blinked, sure he could find tickets somewhere. “Do you get any tickets?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, still looking at him. “But my family is using them.”
“Of course,” he said, backing up and giving her a little space.
“You wouldn’t be able to come anyway,” she said, tracking his movement as he edged away from her.
“I wouldn’t?”
“Am I going to smuggle you down?” She blinked at him. “You don’t leave the house.”
“I’m thinking I might be okay,” he said.
“It’s been three days.”
“I’ve actually been here for five days.” Noah didn’t know why he was arguing this point with her. “And I’ve worked at Your Tidal Forever. No one even looked at me.” He’d been just another body, like always.
No one wanted Noah Wales front and center. He was the throw away. The leftover. The one the C-list reporters wanted interviews with, hoping to catapult themselves up to the King or Queen.
“So you think you can start socializing in town?” Zara gaped at him.
Foolishness raced through him, and he wanted to end this conversation. He’d walked away from a few conversations in his life, but he didn’t think he could just turn his back on Zara. She had enough fire to come after him, shouting to be heard if she had to.
“I don’t know what I think,” he said. “Forget I said anything.” He tossed her a look over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. “Come on, Boomer.” At least the dog came with him, still knowing where his loyalty should be.
Noah went back upstairs, but there was absolutely nothing for him there. Problem was, Zara was downstairs, and that meant there was definitely nothing for him down there either.
Except a ride back down to Your Tidal Forever in the morning. He could survive until morning. He could.
Couldn’t he?
When he walked into Your Tidal Forever, he nearly got knocked back out of the door by the sheer amount of estrogen hanging in the air. He paused, wondering why he’d come here today.
Riley, a cute redheaded woman, stood from her desk in the lobby. “Hello, Holden. We’ve got the construction crew meeting across the boardwalk at the rehearsal hall.” She flashed him a professional smile, her heels clicking as she moved toward him. She stepped past him and pushed open the door. “See? Right there.”
Noah could see it. “Great, thanks.” He flashed her a smile, and she cocked her head.
“Do I know you?”
Noah kept his royal smile in place. “I don’t think so. I’m new in town.”
“And you’re volunteering here?”
“Yes.” He looked over her shoulder. “I’ll head over there now. Thanks.” He worked hard not to punch his way through the glass door in his haste to get away from Riley. Thankfully, she let him go, and Noah kept his back straight and his strides even as he walked down the sidewalk.
He wanted to bolt as fast as his feet would go. But he also wanted to see what it took to build an altar and a trellis and a custom buffet.
Thankfully, the first thing someone did when he entered the event hall was hand him a pair of goggles. He slipped them on, glad for the extra layer of anonymity.
A man who was clearly in charge came over. He glanced at his clipboard. “Holden?”
“That’s right,” Noah said.
“I’m Cal.” He glanced over his shoulder. “This says you don’t have experience with power tools.”
“Nope,” Noah confirmed.
“Then I’ll have you on supplies. This way.” Cal wove through the other men working with saws and nail guns, and Noah wished he’d told a little fib. It didn’t look that hard to hold a nail gun in place and push a button.
Pop, pop, pop! went the nail gun, and the man turned the two pieces of wood he was holding.
“I’m going to pair you with Ed. He’s building the lattices, and he’ll need a runner.” He pointed to a huge pile of thin strips of wood. “Ed’s the big guy with the yellow shirt on. His last name’s Lemon, and I’ve never seen him without the color yellow somewhere.” With that, Cal left Noah to find Ed and figure out how often he’d be running back and forth between this pile and the man in the yellow shirt.
Ed was just inside the door, and Noah stepped over to him and introduced himself with his false name. “Ed Lemon.” He held a staple gun that looked like a toy in his huge hands. “We’re making sixteen trellises.” He gestured behind him to where something leaned against the wall.
The thin pieces of wood had been stapled to the frame in a lattice pattern, and Noah was actually surprised he knew such a thing. “Sixteen of these?”
“And then we’ll be painting them.”
Noah stepped over to the completed trellis and saw all the ninety-degree angles. “Might it be easier to paint them before stapling them together?” He could only imagine how the paint would pool in the creases, and it would definitely be easier to swish color on up and down, up and down, before nailing them all together.
“I suggested that too,” Ed said. “But apparently, the bride doesn’t want the staples to show.” He stapled another thin strip to the one underneath it. “I showed Hope that these staples disappear, but I was vetoed.” He nodded to the corner. “We’ve got spray paint, so it shouldn’t be terribly hard.”
He stapled again and then again. “So you’ll bring me the wood pieces, move the trellises, and once we’ve got a good system going, you can paint too.”
Noah wasn’t sure about the painting, but he nodded as if he’d been a construction manager his whole life. “Great. Looks like what? Fifteen across? Twenty down?”
“Twenty-five down,” he said, stapling.
“The frame is thicker.” Noah hadn’t seen any thicker wood.
Ed nodded his chin toward a stack of wood Noah hadn’t seen. “That’s there.”
Noah felt like he knew what he needed to do, and now he just had to hop to it. It looked like Ed had all the wood he needed to finish the trellis on the table, and Noah headed outside to start bringing in the forty lengths of wood Ed would need for trellis number three.
