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I blink. “Like… a date?”
He shrugs, casual. “More like two semi-trapped adults pretending to enjoy overpriced resort food. You can even keep calling me Grumpy if it makes you feel better.”
I smirk. “It’s Airport Rudo, actually. Fine. But if the waiter brings out a candle and starts singing ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight,’ I’m walking out.”
“Deal,” he says, standing and offering me his hand. “Come on, Tornado.”
I narrow my eyes. “We are not starting that again.”
***
We settle into a small table at Ke Kai Lani, the resort’s open-air restaurant perched on a bluff with a sweeping ocean view. Tiki torches flicker in the breeze, and a slack-key guitar plays softly in the background. The sky glows with post-storm pastels—lavender, gold, and the faintest blush of pink. The mood is light. Tropical romance in a bottle. I’m trying not to fall for it.
We sit at a two-top under a thatched canopy, ordering from a server who introduces himself as Kimo and has a permanent grin.
Carter orders the catch of the day, and I go for the coconut-crusted shrimp. We talk. Really talk. About favorite books, guilty-pleasure TV shows, and the best desserts we’ve ever had. It’s easy. Too easy.
“You’ve got something on your cheek,” I say, reaching for my napkin before I can stop myself. I gently wipe it away, and the moment my fingers graze his skin, a blush creeps up my neck.
That was… impulsive. Too intimate. But being around him makes it easy to forget my usual boundaries.
He tries to play it cool, offering a casual smile, but I catch the flicker of surprise in his eyes—and now I’m blushing even harder.
When we’re halfway through dessert, Kimo returns with a massive cocktail shaped like a pineapple, topped with sparklers and fruit.
“And now,” he announces proudly, “a complimentary honeymoon surprise from Coral Bay Resort!”
I nearly choke on my drink.
The drink is big enough for two, carved into a pineapple, complete with pink umbrellas and a paper sign that says Congratulations, Newlyweds!
Carter raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, we’re not—” I begin.
“We totally are,” Carter cuts in, leaning back and sliding his arm over my chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The waiter beams. “Compliments of Coral Bay Resort! We just love seeing honeymooners.”
Carter’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Thanks. We’ll enjoy it.”
He turns back to me with a look that says: Just go with it.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper.
“Mrs. Volcor, please,” he teases, raising his glass.
I play along, clinking my straw to his. “Well then,” I say, lifting the oversized drink with a smirk. “To us.”
“To surviving the first three days.” He winks. “To Mr. and Mrs. Volcor. May the storm never break us.”
As we sip from the same ridiculous pineapple, laughter bubbles between us. Our eyes lock—and for a second, it feels real.
We leave the restaurant and walk down the flickering torch-lit path and something tightens in my chest.
That wasn’t supposed to feel this… good.
Pretending to be his wife, sipping that ridiculous pineapple cocktail with him like we weren’t complete strangers—I should’ve rolled my eyes and brushed it off. But I didn’t.