Meg Maguire - The Wedding Fling

That first evening passed in beautifully appointed boredom. Leigh napped, waded in the surf, ordered a delicious dinner and admirably resisted both the TV and her phone. She was going through the motions of relaxation, but didn’t feel any of their effects.

This was surely the longest in years she’d gone without seeing a familiar face, and she hadn’t counted on how lonely she’d feel, how small and insecure. The solitude was supposed to clear her head, but her worries seemed to echo all the more loudly. Now and then she nearly missed Dan… but no. She merely missed her old life, that comfortable lie she’d grown so accustomed to living.

LEIGH SLEPT POORLY, reading on the couch until she fell into fitful dreams full of dress fittings and ocean waves.

The next morning, her doorbell chimed as she was brushing her teeth. She crossed the lounge, spotting Will Burgess’s truck through the window. Her stomach gave a funny flutter. She was clearly hard up for company, to feel a rush at the prospect of a conversation with the most abrasive man she’d met in ages. Sexy, sure, but undeniably tactless.

Toothbrush in hand, she opened the door.

Will’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and stacked atop his pair were another—Leigh’s. “Good morning, valued guest.”

“Good morning, sketchy pilot.”

He took off both sets of glasses and handed hers over. “You left those in my truck yesterday.”

“Thanks. You left your bribe in my bag.”

He grinned, and Leigh was tempted to don her shades to protect herself from his extraordinary eyes.

“Must have fallen out of my pocket.”

“And into my zipped suitcase.”

“The mysteries of physics. You’ve got a little…” Will gestured at the corner of his mouth.

Leigh wiped at her lips, at whatever toothpaste he saw.

“Other side.”

She tried again.

“That got it.” Will leaned against the door frame. “Must be hard not having your butler around to let you know when you’ve got stuff on your face.”

She rolled her eyes.

“How did you cope, brushing your own teeth?”

“Are you waiting for a tip, Captain? Because the more you talk, the crappier your chances are getting.”

“Just being friendly. Customer service and all that. Anything you need?”

Company was the only thing Leigh really craved, but she wouldn’t admit it to this man. “Only if you know how the coffeemaker works. It’s so high-tech I couldn’t figure it out.”

“I can operate a plane, so let’s hope it’s not beyond me.”

Leigh stepped aside and he strolled to the device.

“Damn, that is high-tech.”

She watched as he messed around with the digital features. His laid-back charisma seemed even more obvious amid the kitchen’s sleekness. What Leigh had felt in the terminal the previous afternoon hadn’t been a fluke, or a simple matter of revenge—she was attracted to him. But it was a purely physical attraction, signifying nothing more than the fact that he was slightly sexier than he was annoying.

After much poking, he got the machine hissing and gurgling and coffee began to fill the pot.

Will gestured between the machine and himself, making a great show of his accomplishment. “How about that? All it needed was a retinal scan and two forms of ID.”

“Thanks.”

“Just make sure you select a mode. I think that’s the only trick. Anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for bringing my sunglasses.”

“Anytime.”

She was on the verge of inviting him to stay for a coffee, but he spoke first, sparing her from sounding pathetic.

“I better head in for the morning flight.”

“Yes, you better.”

She walked him to the door, trying to ignore the shape of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the disarming, masculine rhythm of his easy gait.

“Thanks again.”

He gave her a salute and headed down the steps to his truck. “Enjoy your coffee,” he called, slamming his door.

“Enjoy your flight.”

He draped his tan arm along the open window as the engine groaned to life.

Leigh closed her door and listened until the truck was gone, then sank up to her neck in lonely silence. She poured a coffee and flipped through the resort’s activities guide, nothing sparking her interest. Nowhere in the many descriptions did it say, “Interact with other humans before you lose your mind! Don’t forget to bring a towel.”

She shut the binder, more listless than ever. All she wanted was what Will had just offered—company. No pampering or butt-kissing, no star treatment. She wished he’d come back, but there was no good reason for him to. She’d just have to settle for a masseuse or horseback riding instructor…. But she was sick to death of things being done for her, services offered by supremely nice people who probably just gossiped about her once she’d gone.

Then something occurred to Leigh. She didn’t have to wait for Will to come back to enjoy a taste of the candid, easy company she craved. She could go after what she wanted herself. After all, what had playing by the rules done for her lately?

AS THE SUN DIPPED LOWER, Leigh’s mood rose higher and higher.

A shower washed away the salt from her afternoon swim, and her hastily acquired shorts and funky halter top enveloped her in a sense of blessed unfamiliarity. The smell of sunscreen had her craving a cold drink, perhaps one with an umbrella in it, served in half a pineapple or some other delightful cliché.

When the clock chimed five-thirty she grabbed her new sandals, carrying them as she walked down the beach. Just as she’d hoped, after a twenty minutes’ stroll she spotted the workers’ settlement farther along the shore.

Will’s clunky old truck was parked just off the road, and Leigh followed a wooden walkway through the grass and sand to a dwelling yards from the high tide’s edge. Tinny music played from an unseen radio, and she spotted its owner as she neared.

He was straddling an upside-down canoe raised on blocks beside the building, sanding away a coat of peeling paint. It seemed there was no limit to how casual his wardrobe could get. He was dressed in khaki cutoffs, a plaid button-up shirt left completely open to flap about his arms in the warm breeze. He swept his shaggy hair from his eyes and Leigh had to admire the greater whole of him. Tan and lean, that mischievously handsome face looking placid for a change, his attention focused on his project. His well-past-five-o’clock shadow and bare feet made her envy his life with a fresh pang.

She clapped the soles of her sandals together. “Knock knock.”

Will glanced up from his task with a grin. “Well, look who’s here. You get lost on the way to a hot-rock massage?”

“Is this where you live, Captain?” She nodded to the cottage on stilts. “It’s adorable.”

Will glowered, faking insult.

“Sorry. It’s butch. Really butch.”

He set aside the sanding block and wiped his palms on his shorts. “What can I do for you, Miss Bailey? Need a lift to civilization?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness for that.” He reached to the windowsill and took a deep swig from a bottle of beer. “How was that coffee?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“You walk all the way here?”

“It’s only about a half mile.”

“Didn’t know your kind walked.”

She shot him a snobby look, meandering closer. “My kind?”

His smile sharpened to a smirk, one that stirred Leigh’s pulse. “Yeah, your kind, little miss movie star.”

“Well, you were misinformed. My kind does plenty more than walk. I came to ask you about the dancing you mentioned yesterday.”

His brows rose. “That’s what you came here for? Dancing?”