Page 24 of What I Like About You

Chapter Nine

Every tablein the dining room at the Indigo Royal had a set of three pillar candles, each one a different height, lit and sitting on a mirror, acting as a centerpiece. The flames danced in the light breeze that came off the ocean, and Zara was lost in her own thoughts as she watched them flicker. As much as she had tried to think of something—anything—else, she had spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about Dalton.

After getting cleaned up from the mud bath, she’d joined Antwan for one of the most luxurious facials she’d ever experienced. There was something unique about the different masks and scrubs that the esthetician had used that left her face feeling not only soft and smooth, but somehow lighter. Facials had never been one of her favorite services when they visited spas, since she personally felt they were so hit or miss in their benefits, but if she could find a place in Atlanta that offered this same kind of facial, she might actually start getting them regularly.

“You know, hate-fucking him wouldn’t be a bad option,” Antwan said.

“What?!”

"Tripp…Dalton…whatever you want to call him,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I’m not going to hate-fuck Tripp Sutherland. Or anyone for that matter.”

“It could be hot. He’s hot…with a capital H.”

Zara just looked at him unamused. She knew he was just trying to cheer her up, and she appreciated that he had her back. Antwan had been the one to help her pick up the pieces and glue herself back together into the mosaic she was now. She had arrived at Auburn a shell of her former self, determined to figure out who she was but with no clue where to start. If Antwan hadn’t decided to play fashion police that day, who knows how long it would have been before she’d found a friend. She knew that no one would ever replace what she’d had in Dalton, or well, what she’d thought she’d had in him, but Antwan had risen to the occasion and taken the BFF role to a new level.

“Oh, don’t act like you're not all hot to trot whenever he’s around. He gets you all hot and bothered like nothing I have ever seen.”

“May I join you?” a sweet, southern drawl asked, turning her attention away from Antwan. Dalton stood next to their little two-person table, looking incredibly sexy in a pair of khaki shorts and a salmon-colored polo.

Shit, shit, shit…please don’t let him have heard what Antwan said…

“Join us?” she sputtered.

“For dinner.”

“It’s a table for two,” she said, hoping that he'd realize the small table in the corner didn’t allow for a third chair to be pulled up.

Dalton opened his mouth to speak, but Antwan cut him off with a question.

“Is that coveralled hottie still out by the pool?”

“Carlos? I think so.”

“Then I’m going hottie hunting!” Antwan said, popping up so quick from the chair Zara was surprised it didn’t flip over. Pointing to Zara, he said, “I shall catch you later.”

“He's straight,” Dalton offered, looking at Antwan quizzically.

“You sure?”

“Please feel free to prove me wrong,” Dalton responded, sweeping his arm out toward the lobby.

“Challenge accepted!” Antwan took a couple of steps to leave before pivoting and turning back to Zara. “I know we have separate bed chambers, but I’ll still put a sock on the door if I’m entertaining tonight.”

Without another word, he took off, leaving Zara there all alone with Dalton, speechless.

“Your boyfriend sure left in a hurry,” he commented, his drawl heavy on the word boyfriend.

“I’m sure you’ve figured out by now he’s not really my boyfriend,” she answered, feeling her self-consciousness grow.

“Yeah…he checked me out way too hard to not be playing for the other team.”

“Subtlety has never been his thing.”

“May I sit?” Dalton asked, gesturing to the now-vacant seat across from her.

“Ummm, I…” she floundered, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. His bracelet.