Chapter 3

Chandler

"Okay, I'm ready."

At the sound of Cheyanne's voice, I closed the text thread for my parents' group chat and looked up at her. My heart skipped a beat. Over the last two years, every time we took a trip somewhere with a beach, she denied herself the pleasure of getting into a swimsuit and enjoying the water. This trip, that changed.

The white two-piece swimsuit against her cinnamon brown skin made my mouth water. Its high-waisted design drew my attention to her belly ring and small waist. I didn't want to stare, but my mouth almost hung when I noticed what looked like pierced nipples. Clearing my throat, I stood and adjusted my growing dick in my boxers.

"You look…" My head shook as I struggled to find the words. Her bra strap length bundles were pulled into a high bun, giving me an unobstructed view of her makeup free and gorgeous face. Closing the distance between us, I inhaled her powdery scent as she removed her shades with a smile. Those lips were covered with a dark red lipstick, begging me to kiss them. "I have no words to accurately describe how beautiful you are to me."

"Mr. Jones," she cooed, avoiding my eyes.

"What did I tell you about that?"

With a huff, Cheyanne looked up at me briefly before taking a step back. "Are you ready to go to the beach?"

"Yeah, I guess." Quite frankly, the sight of her made me want to go swimming and drown in her wetness. Since I knew there was no chance in hell of that happening, I grabbed my shades and wallet while she tossed an oversized sheer kaftan over her suit, and we headed out to the beach. "Are you hungry?" I checked.

"I could eat."

"What do you have a taste for?"

"Hmm… I love a good boardwalk hot dog. Or maybe tacos. Whatever we pass is fine."

That made me chuckle. "You want to get it now or after you go for a swim?"

"Now is fine. I probably won't actually get in the water."

"Oh, so you put this on just to give everyone on this beach a beautiful view, huh?"

"Maybe just you," was her reply, and it was the first time she'd ever flirted with me. It stopped me in my tracks. Before I could fully process it, Cheyanne was taking me by the hand and tugging me along as she giggled.

There were a few vendors out with hot dogs, but we walked a bit further down the boardwalk to see what else was available. She decided she wanted tacos since she swore the ones in Cali were better than what we could get at home. As we waited for the tacos, I grabbed a couple of blankets at the store nearby. Once the tacos were ready, we got settled on the beach. I was glad we'd flown in a day early to be able to relax and enjoy doing nothing for a change.

"I swear nothing beats this view," she said, staring out into the ocean.

"I agree."

She looked over at me as I stared at her. "You're not even looking." Her smile was bashful as she looked away.

"Yes, I am."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Chandler."

"Whatever you want."

Her laughter was light as she began to squeeze the lime over her tacos. After we said grace and began to eat, I chuckled.

"What's funny?" she asked, wiping her mouth.

"The fact that you prefer this over a Michelin restaurant."

"Half the time, those restaurants aren't even good enough for what they charge. I love a good experience and never mind paying for it, but you can't beat good food like this."

I took a few bites of my taco before asking her, "How's your grandfather doing?"

Her face lit up immediately, as it always did when she thought about or talked about him. Cheyanne didn't share a lot with me about her family and past, but I did know her grandfather adopted her when she was twelve and raised her as his own. She did tell me that her parents were divorced, but not much more than that. I didn't pry, because I knew childhood wounds and parental letdowns could always be a difficult subject, no matter how much time had passed.

"He's doing well. I finally convinced him to start exercising with me."

"Really? Is he going to run?"

She laughed, quickly covering her mouth as she chewed. "I wish. When he found out that I run ten to fifteen miles every morning, he asked me if I was trying to kill him. We settled on a brisk three-mile walk, so I'm okay with that."

"I want to meet him one day."

Cheyanne's eyes shifted in my direction briefly before returning to her tacos. "You sure that's not too unprofessional?"

"I mean… I'd like to think of you as my friend. If not my friend, a trusted confidant. It would be my honor to meet the man who means the most to you."

"As much as I hate it, I can admit I think of you that way too."

I clutched my heart, causing her to laugh. "Why do you work so hard to not like me, Chy? And tell me the truth."

Though I'd asked for the truth, a part of me expected her to hold back and change the subject. Still, I clung to the silence, hoping this would be one instance where she let me in.

"It would be dangerous for me to like you, so I try to keep things as professional between us as I can."

That was more than she gave me during her anniversary dinner a month ago, so I'd take it.

"What makes having feelings for me dangerous?"

She looked out into the ocean as she lowered her shades over her eyes. "I haven't had the best experiences with men with wealth. They've either used me, abused me, or cheated on me. And that's not to say I intend to marry a man who doesn't have money, but I don't know. Plus… I've seen money and greed turn people into monsters. I don't think I want one that has the background and lifestyle that you do."

I could understand that. Though I came from a wealthy family, I was determined to pave my own way. All that I am, all that I have, I have because of God and myself. Because of that, my confidence was through the roof. On top of that, I had no problem living a materialistic lifestyle. I'd worked hard for what I had and took great pride in showing it off. Regardless of my wealth, it didn't determine my character. Having money and status in our city would never turn me into a liar, cheater, or abuser. I knew telling Cheyanne that probably wouldn't make much of a difference though. If that was her truth, her experience, only time and trust would be a balm for that.

We continued to eat before discarding our bags, then we took a walk closer to the water. I didn't realize how far we'd gone until the sun started to set. We'd walked at least two miles, which was nothing for her.

As we headed back toward the hotel, the urge to ask her what it would take for her to trust me and feel safe with me consumed me. I wanted to restore her faith in men, though I wasn't the one who had broken it. She deserved to be with a man who could afford to give her the world if she chose to bless him by being the center of his. Instead of asking what was in my mind and on my heart, I kept quiet to avoid making her uncomfortable. This was the first time in two years that she'd opened up to me in this magnitude, and I didn't want to rush her and make her shut back down.