Page 21 of Made For You

“Oh.” I hear Xavier from the side of me. “You’re here.”

I look over and see him walking out of his boat without a shirt on. I don’t even try not to look down at his chest. “Dammit,” I mumble under my breath, then stand and look over at him. “I’m here.” I hold up my hand. “Why, did you miss me?” I look around now, seeing that the sun is setting. “I can’t believe I worked the day away.” Beatrice walks around my legs, and I put my hand out to pat her head.

“I’m about to throw some steaks on the grill,” he says, and there it is, the little ting of nerves forming in my stomach. “Why don’t you come on over?”

I fold my hands over my chest as I glare at him. “What is up with you?” I can’t help the words that come out of my mouth. “Yesterday the drink, today dinner.” I shake my head, and then I gasp. “Did my father threaten you?”

He laughs again, and there it is again, the little flutters.I must be hungry,I tell myself. “I met your father for five seconds,” he reminds me, “and you were there.” He shakes his head. “Why would he threaten me?”

“To be nicer to me.” I can’t even try to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. Even when I hear them, I want to cringe at how they sound.

He chuckles, thank God, thinking it was a joke. “Promise I’ll be nice. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” He holds his hands up.

“That’s usually what they say, right before they jump for your jugular,” I say the words out loud.

“I have two steaks out and I’m not going to eat both, so would you like one?” He adds softly, “If you want, I can cook it and just hand it to you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That sounds silly. I’ll make a salad and come over.” I look down at Beatrice. “Do you want to stay with me or go with that guy?” I point over at Xavier, who shakes his head laughing at me.

“Beatrice, come.” He motions with his head. “I’ll give you a special Vivienne cookie,” he bribes her. “Come when you’re ready,” he invites me, and all I can do is nod at him before walking back into the boat.

“Why would you agree to that?” I ask myself as I walk to my bedroom. “What if he puts poison on your steak?” I stop walking. “You really need to get out of the book and”—I sniff, picking up my arm—“shower before you go anywhere.”

CHAPTER14

XAVIER

“No.”She shakes her head, and all I can do is look at her while my heart speeds up. “That sounds silly. I’ll make a salad and come over.” She looks down at Beatrice. “Do you want to stay with me or go with that guy?” She points at me, and I can’t help but laugh at her again. Why does everything she say make me laugh?

“Beatrice, come.” I motion with my head and see that she’s trying to decide if she should stay with Vivienne or come to me. “I’ll give you a special Vivienne cookie,” I tell her, and Beatrice jumps off her boat and comes to me, sitting in front of me, waiting for the cookie I promised her. “Come when you’re ready,” I invite her, and she nods, walking back into her boat.

I look down at Beatrice. “Do we know what we did wrong over here?” I ask before turning and walking into the galley, going for the drawer that has the cookies. “Number one, you barked and left the boat.” I hold up a finger. “Number two, you left the boat and didn’t even come back to me.” I add another finger to the one, and all Beatrice can do is look at my hand that has the cookie in it. “And number three, you made me ask her to come for dinner.” She looks at me, tilting her head to the side, no doubt telling me I’m full of shit.

“Here is your cookie.” I give it to her. “Under protest,” I huff. “Seriously, you need to stop pushing yourself at her.” Beatrice just eats the cookie, not giving a shit what I’m going to say. “Now I have to have dinner with her. Are you happy?” I ask her, and her tail flops around. “Yeah, whatever.” I walk over to the kitchen and grab more veggies, slicing them and adding them to the foil pan. “Should I have done baked potatoes?” I look over at Beatrice. “Or maybe even some rice?” I walk over to the cabinet, opening it, and grab down the rice packet. “This I can do in the microwave,” I say, looking back and wondering if I should open the package.

“Why the fuck am I so nervous?” I put the rice down and shake out my hands, hoping to shake out the nerves. “I’ve never been nervous around a girl before.” I look at Beatrice, who I swear laughs at me. “I used to date before you.” I glare at her. “Not religiously but occasionally.” She puts her head down. “It’s hard to date when I travel so much.”

I shake my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Maybe I’m nervous because if I’m not nice to her”—I swallow down the lump—“her whole family is going to kick my ass.” Beatrice just closes her eyes to sleep. “Thanks for the talk.” I laugh nervously. “I’m going to put on a shirt,” I tell her, walking down the steps and into my room.

Opening the top drawer, I put on a white T-shirt and take a second to look at myself in the mirror. “It’s not a date, asshole,” I tell my reflection before walking up the steps and back to the galley.

Looking straight out of the open back door, I see her walking over. She changed out of her shorts is the first thing that I notice. Her hair is blowing softly in the wind as she walks over with her head down. Thankfully, it gives me a second to take her in. She is wearing cutoffs, her legs bare with no shoes on them, her button-down short-sleeved gray-and-white-striped shirt tucked in the front. “Hi,” she greets, stepping on the back deck, and I see she has a huge bowl in front of her. “I made salad,” she tells me, holding out the wooden bowl.

I walk over to her. “Thank you.” I grab it. “You look nice,” I say, and if I could kick myself, I would.

“Thank you,” she replies. “I figured after working all day, I should shower and change.” She looks at me. “You look nice as well.” She laughs nervously, and every nerve I had in me seems to settle in place. “I love this layout.” She looks around the boat. “It’s so spacious.”

“Thanks,” I say to her, turning around and putting the salad on the counter. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask, trying to keep my hands busy.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she says to me, not moving from the spot in the middle of the room.

“You can have a glass of wine if you like,” I offer, walking to the wine fridge.

“I’ll just have water, if that is okay.” Now I’m suddenly feeling guilty that she is having water because of yesterday. “I work tomorrow, so I’ll just stick to H2O.”

I nod at her. “Make yourself at home.” I point at the couch, and she walks over and sits down. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I turn and stop in my tracks when she picks up the book from the middle of the table. She turns it over and reads the back of the book. “Here you go,” I say, handing her the bottle of water.

“Is this good?” she asks me of the book.