While We Waited (Smuggler’s Hideaway #3)

Chapter 7

Scrambling – When Hudson runs around trying not to obsess over his night with Nova

Hudson

I roll over and reach for Nova but the sheets are cold to my touch. I open my eyes to discover her side of the bed is empty.

I want to jump out of the bed and chase after her, but I don’t. She deserves better than a grump like me.

Wait a minute. How did she leave? We’re locked in here for all she knows. I climb out of bed and don my boxer shorts before making my way to the kitchen.

“Nova!” I shout her name but there’s no reply.

I feel a slight breeze and notice the sliding glass door to the patio is open. Fuck. I hope she doesn’t figure out that I knew we could escape last night. She’ll be thoroughly pissed at me. Assuming she isn’t already pissed at me for taking advantage of her last night.

I couldn’t help myself. Nova and her smile are irresistible.

I return to the bedroom and dress. I notice Nova’s panties in the corner and shove them in my pocket. Then, I strip the sheets off of the bed. I’m carrying them to the patio doors when the front door opens.

“What are you doing in here?” My contractor, Flynn, asks.

I hold up the sheets. “These needed to be washed since the chalet isn’t ready yet.”

He cocks a brow. “And you’re the one who came here to change the sheets?”

I’ve known Flynn most of my life. He’s a few years older than me but in a place the size of Smuggler’s Hideaway where everyone knows everyone, a few years don’t make a difference. Since he began construction on the luxury chalets at the resort, we’ve become friends.

But I can’t tell him about last night. Nova is friends with his girlfriend, Sophia. I don’t want Nova to think I was bragging about having sex with her.

“Private,” I grunt.

“And it has nothing to do with Nova tearing out of the resort parking lot?”

I scowl. Nova shouldn’t be speeding. It’s dangerous. Especially on Smuggler’s Hideaway where seals and sheep regularly cross the road without warning.

Flynn holds up his hands. “Message received. It’s not my business.”

My scowl wasn’t meant for him, but I use the opportunity to switch topics. “Will you finish the chalet today?”

He scratches his neck. “Today? Today is pushing it.”

“This chalet was supposed to be operational at the start of the month. I’ve lost bookings.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I fired the kid who dropped the wet saw on the floor.”

The chalet was finished, but then one of his workers dropped a saw on the bathroom floor and cracked a bunch of floor tiles.

“If he would have told us what happened, we could have fixed it right away. But instead, he hid the problem.” Flynn blows out a breath. “I hate firing young kids.”

“If they can’t do the job, they need to go.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier when you bump into the person at the grocery store.”

There’s an easy solution to his problem. “Don’t go to the grocery store.”

He chuckles. “Not all of us are multi-millionaires with a restaurant kitchen at our beck and call.”

I hate discussing my wealth. I don’t give a shit about the money. I’d rather be playing football. My ankle twinges to remind me of why I’m not living my dream.

“When will you finish?”

Flynn frowns as he considers my question. “Should be a couple of days. A week at most.”

His vague answer is unacceptable. I can’t do business with vague answers. “When can I accept bookings for the chalet?”

He clears his throat. “Next week.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Next week?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Next week. I’ll make sure of it personally even if I have to lay the tiles and do the grouting myself.”

“Thanks. I’ll let my sales team know they can accept reservations for the chalet from next week onward.”

I walk toward the sliding doors but Flynn clears his throat. “The front door is open now.”

I don’t say a word. I merely pivot and walk to the front door. I notice Flynn’s smirk but I ignore it. He won’t hear from me how I defiled Nova all night long. It’s none of his business.

I barely make it out of the chalet before Roger rushes toward me. “There you are!”

“Here I am.”

“Wesley and I have been searching for you everywhere.”

This is why I rarely leave the resort. Not because I’m a hermit, but because there’s always someone who needs me. Managing a resort is more work than I could have imagined.

“What’s wrong?”

Roger reaches for the sheets. “Let me handle those for you.”

I retreat a step. “I’ve got it.”

His hands flutter in the air for a moment before he drops them. “Okay.”

I begin marching toward the main building of the resort. “What’s the issue?”

“Two drunk clients.”

Drunk guests? “It’s barely eight in the morning.”

Alcohol is readily available in the resort. People do come here to relax after all. But drunk patrons causing issues are rare.

“They’ve been drinking from their minibar since the bar closed last night.”

“When are they scheduled to check out?”

He consults his tablet. “In two days.”

“Have their minibars emptied of all alcohol.”

“They’ll complain.”

“They can complain to me.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

We reach the building and he opens the door for me. I aim for the laundry room and deposit the sheets in the dirty laundry bin. I’m tempted to sniff them one more time to gather Nova’s scent but Roger’s watching me closely.

“Where are the guests?”

He motions toward the beach. “At the main outdoor pool.”

I hope they aren’t actually in the pool. I’m not in the mood for a swim this morning.

The main pool is accessed via the glass doors in the lobby. As I travel through the area, several people try to get my attention. I ignore them.

You’d think wealthy people would be used to meeting famous athletes. You’d be wrong. What they’re used to is getting whatever they want. This is why I usually stick to my office or my chalet at the back of the property.

“It’s Double Crown,” a man shouts when I step outside.

I survey the pool area. Besides two men lying on loungers, it’s empty. It usually is at this time of the morning.

“Gentlemen,” I greet them.

“It is Double Crown,” the man repeats. He’s wearing a pair of boxer shorts – not swimming trunks – and nothing else. Thankfully, the boxer shorts are a dark color.

“Course it is. He owns the place,” the other man slurs. At least he’s wearing a white t-shirt with his boxer shorts.

“It’s time for the two of you to return to your accommodation.”

“Return to our accommodation?” Boxer shorts says. “Why?”

“This pool is designated a family area during the day.”

White t-shirt cracks up. “Double Crown sounds as if he has a signal pole rammed up his ass. The pool is a designated family area,” he mimics.

“We’re family,” claims boxer shorts. “He’s my brother.”

They don’t resemble each other in the least, but I don’t contradict them. You can’t argue with drunk.

“Shall I escort you to your room?”

I don’t wait for an answer before helping boxer shorts to his feet. He sways and I steady him with my hand. Once I’m certain he won’t collapse, I assist white t-shirt to stand.

“Thanks, Double C—” He doesn’t manage to finish before he bends over and vomits all over my shoes.

Boxer shorts bursts into laughter. “You puked all over Double Crown.”

“At least I didn’t pee my pants.” White t-shirt points to boxer shorts who is now sporting a wet spot on his shorts.

Why did I want to own a resort, again? I blame my business manager. He’s the one who suggested it. He pointed out how Smuggler’s Hideaway is a popular tourist destination but didn’t have enough hotel rooms to accommodate tourists.

Wesley hustles to my side with two security guards. “We’ve got this.”

I allow them to take over. I try to keep the security of the resort hidden from the guests. But this is one situation when I don’t mind them handling things.

At least the incident kept Nova away from the forefront of my mind for a while. But she’s never far from my thoughts.

Which is a problem I need to handle.

But first I need to throw away these shoes.