“So antsy,” Hope said, depositing glasses on the end table and climbing onto the lounger.
“Stay just like that,” he said. He pointed the Nikon at her, shutter clicking, like gunfire.
“You could simply enjoy the sunset, you know,” Hope said. “We could enjoy it together.”
Luke set the camera on the table and reached for the bottle. The Macallan sounded a hollow pop of anticipation as it opened.
He handed her a glass and settled in, Hope swinging her legs over his. Her toenails were painted dark blue this week, fresh from a pedicure with Charlotte this morning. Luke didn’t care for her nail polish choices, especially when she went blue. Corpse toes, he called them.
“Tomorrow you’ll be a big TV star. Are you nervous?”
Luke took a sip of his scotch. “Maybe.”
“Is it because Natasha Chen is the host?” Hope asked. “What with your thing for Asian ladies?”
“So now I have a thing?” Luke laughed, hand trailing through her long hair. “You were supposed to be meek and submissive. I was grossly misled.”
“At least I’m good at math,” she said. “I’ll try to work on the meek part.”
“Good luck,” Luke said. “And it’s not because of Natasha Chen; it’s because I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of thousands of viewers.”
“Impossible,” Hope said. “You’re brilliant and amazing. And a published author. It’s very sexy.”
“Nerdy science books don’t count as sexy,” he said. “And you forgot devilishly handsome.”
“I’ll never forget.” She closed her eyes, focused on the feel of his fingers. “Don’t ask her to say something in Chinese, though. Total turnoff.”
“Damn, I was going to open with that,” Luke said, tracing her earlobe with his thumb. “After the ribbon cutting at the new facility today, Jack hinted this could mean a big promotion.”
Hope opened her eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Luke shrugged. “It’s the next logical step.”
“I know.” Hope sipped slowly. “Just, be careful what you wish for.”
Luke pulled her close, and Hope breathed him in, fingernails tapping on the glass. It made a tinkling sound, like bells.
“Let’s run away instead,” she said, picking a leaf from his hair. “Scrap it all and start a new land. Become rulers of our own destiny.”
“Is this before or after we become dealers in Vegas?” Luke’s mouth twitched. “Or start an ostrich farm? Or open a kabob restaurant called Shish for Brains?”
“It has to be mutually exclusive?” Hope laughed.
“Where should we start this new land?” Luke took her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. “Also, we’re going to need something catchier than New Land.”
Hope closed her eyes. “The Bahamas, of course.”
“Of course. And how will we pay the bills?”
“We won’t need money,” Hope insisted, “because we’ll be in charge of the New Land. To be renamed later. But if you must, we can open a waffle stand.”
“I do make a damn fine waffle,” Luke said.
“We’ll call it the Waffle Brothel.” Hope twined her legs together like a pretzel. She trailed a finger up his arm, just to the elbow, then back again.
“Horrendous,” he murmured. “You’re making it hard for me to concentrate.”
“We could live in a lighthouse.” Hope stilled her finger on his wrist. “And have kangaroos.”
“You’re like a kindergartener on an acid trip sometimes,” Luke said. “Kangaroos aren’t even native to the Bahamas.”
“Kangaroos are evolutionarily perfect,” Hope said. “They have built-in pockets. It’s genius.”
Luke smiled. “Then we’ll import them. And build a kangaroo sanctuary on the beach. So we can see them from the lighthouse.”
He lay back and Hope matched her gaze with his, to the endless universe spread above. The red had all but disappeared, the moon even brighter now against the darkening sky. A scattering of stars emerged, blinking at them like jewels.
“Given your exhaustive attention to detail, it sounds like a solid Plan B.” He placed a hand on her thigh, a lazy, casual gesture Hope felt far beneath the layers of her skin. “I’m in.”
“Promise?” Her voice held the barest of a tremor, almost imperceptible. Imperceptible to anyone but Luke.
He held his face level with hers. Sometimes they shared these glances, moments of razor-edged intimacy. Moments when they were the only souls of consequence, raw and infinite, a singularity. Moments when Hope wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole, by Luke, and by whatever lay within.
Hope broke the connection, bottom lip in her teeth. Then a grin appeared, and she held her pinky in front of his face. “Promise?” she asked again.
Luke burst out laughing. “A pinky promise? You really are five.” But he hooked his pinky into hers, and with his other hand, pulled her on top of him. “I’m sold,” he said into her hair. “Waffles in the Bahamas it is.”
Hope closed her eyes as she kissed him. Maybe they could.
