Page 4 of What I Like About You

“Yes! I saw online that he just moved down here to be with some chick. OMG, she’s a maid or something like that—I bet this is where she works!”

“Okay.”

“We have to go get a selfie!”

“He kinda looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered. He’s talking to someone,” Zara said, as Antwan dragged her toward the pair of men. There was something familiar about his companion, but from this distance and not looking at him head-on, she couldn’t put her finger on it.

A couple of steps closer, though, and it hit her. Zara’s feet suddenly wouldn’t move, and she froze in place. The words she had been about to say were stuck in her mouth like a wad of cotton as Cruz’s fair-haired companion looked in their direction.

He was tall—his six-foot-four frame made him slightly taller than the pro athlete to his left—with blond hair that seemed to shimmer in the setting sun. His chiseled features and megawatt smile could easily stop traffic, and even if he hadn’t been a dead ringer for Scott Eastwood, she would know that face anywhere. She also knew that under the snug, light blue T-shirt that matched the blue in his multi-colored board shorts were a stunning six-pack, rock-hard pecs that were dusted with a light covering of chest hair matching the strands on his head, and the most glorious hip-V that had ever graced a man’s body. Oh, and he had those ocean-blue eyes that she could swim in forever.

Her body came alive just looking at him.

But there was no way it was really him. She knew he had left Atlanta and taken off for “the islands” a handful of years ago, but there was no way that he was here. Not at this resort. There were tons of islands in the Caribbean, each with dozens of resorts on them. It just wasn’t possible.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” she blurted out.

“What are you on?”

“Please, just do this for me. If you have ever loved me, you will pretend to be my boyfriend right now.”

“Explain yourself,” Antwan demanded.

“That guy that Cullen Cruz is with?” she said, her heart starting to race.

“What about him?”

“It’s him,” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Tripp Sutherland.”

* * *

As Dalton exitedthe dorms he saw Cullen walking up “Electric Avenue,” the path that led down to the Villas. Standing at the top of the little hill, he opted to wait for his childhood-idol-turned-friend to catch up.

“Gonna rock down to Electric Avenue…” Dalton sang, doing an awkward little dance as Cullen approached.

“Such a bloody strange thing to call that path,” Cullen said, in his thick British accent. “Certainly there was a better song title to use.”

“I dunno, man, story I heard was Drea named it that when she was like six, so…” Dalton shrugged.

“Then I rescind my statement. And the fact that I ever said anything stays between us. You headed to the beach?”

“No, I have to go grab the rum from Miller. Your girl seemed to think I needed to be responsible for something.”

“That makes two of us. I am to retrieve the s’mores ingredients,” Cullen said as he turned to head to the main part of the resort.

Even though the ribbon-cutting ceremony had been almost a month ago, Cherish Spa hadn’t really opened up to guests. Drea had been insistent that they do some trial runs on staff before all the VIPs she had invited showed up. While it hadn’t taken a whole lot of arm twisting to get the guys in the group onto the massage tables, it had taken some extreme begging—and subsequent threatening of jobs—to get them into the pedicure chairs. Well, at least that’s what it had taken to get Dalton and Kyle into the pedicure chairs. Cullen Cruz, former pro-athlete turned youth coach, had hopped right in without complaint.

With all the trial runs under their belt and all the VIPs starting to arrive, Kyle and Leona thought a celebration was in order and planned a small bonfire on Big House Beach for their crew. A night laughing with friends, sipping on local rum, and stuffing his face with s’mores was exactly what he needed after a busy week out on the water.

“How’s the house schedule lookin’?” Dalton asked.

“Well, surprisingly, the contractor seems to think that we’ll be in the house by Christmas. Which I think sounds maybe a little too good to be true, but I opted not to argue.”

“That’s a full four months from now. Depending on how the internal structure is looking and just how much they have to do to get it up to code, it’s possible,” Dalton said. “As long as the foundation is stable and none of the load-bearing beams are damaged, then I can see that timeline.”