CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
Carter
“Go away!” she screams from inside the bedroom.
It’s almost noon, and she still hasn’t stepped out of the room. If I want to get my belongings, I need her to wake up and let me in.
“You know, I think I may have to evict you. You’re really becoming a pain in my ass,” I respond, leaning against the doorframe.
“Okay, fuck off now,” she groans, and I assume she rolls over, ignoring me.
I smirk. “Hey, Tornado, I need to get my stuff out of there, so why don’t you pretend it’s daytime and let me in, huh?”
A moment of silence passes before I hear her muffled voice through the door. “You’re hilarious. Give me a second.”
The door creaks open, revealing Ivy with messy hair and sleepy eyes. Her robe barely covers her, and for a split second, I forget why I even knocked. The way the soft fabric clings to her curves, sliding just slightly off her shoulder, is enough to make me rethink all my life choices.
“May I come in?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Let me grab some things so I go in the shower. Then the room is all yours,” she says, rummaging through her suitcase. I watch her walk away, taking in the sight of her toned legs and the lazy sway of her hips. This woman is a menace, and she doesn’t even know it.
I quickly grab my stuff and get out before she finishes her shower. Not that I’d mind being in there when she steps out all soaking wet, but I’m not looking to get slapped first thing in the morning.
By the time she emerges, fully dressed in loose-fitting pants and a crop top that reveals just the right amount of toned stomach, I’ve brewed two cups of coffee.
“That cup is for you if you want it,” I offer.
She eyes the coffee warily, then looks up at me with suspicion. “Is this poisoned?”
I smirk, handing her a cup. “Only if you’re allergic to caffeine and kindness.”
Ivy snorts but reaches for the cup. Our fingers brush—just for a second—but it’s enough. A jolt moves through me, low and sharp, like static heat under the skin. Her touch is warm, soft, unexpected. And the way her eyes flick to mine for half a heartbeat before she looks away? Yeah, I feel that.
She mumbles a quiet “thanks” and takes a sip like nothing happened. But I saw it—the way her breath hitched. The way she tried to hide it.
Hell, if one brush of her fingers feels like that, I’m in trouble.
I watch as her shoulders relax just a fraction, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment in appreciation. Damn, that shouldn’t be as distracting as it is. I let my gaze linger. Her beauty hits first, but it’s that unbothered fire in her that hooks me. Magnetic doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“So,” I start, leaning against the counter, “any plans today? Or are you going to continue your self-imposed hibernation?”
She glares at me over the rim of her cup. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was planning on actually enjoying this vacation.”
I raise a brow. “Really? Because from what I’ve seen, you’re spending most of it hiding in the bedroom.”
She sets her coffee down a little harder than necessary. “That’s because I’m stuck sharing my room with a stranger.”
“Correction.” I take a slow sip of my own coffee. “You’re stuck sharing a room with me. Big difference.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms. “You say that like you’re some kind of luxury amenity.”
I smirk. “I’d argue I’m a significant upgrade to this resort’s offerings.”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “You are so full of yourself.” She rubs her temples. “This is exactly why I planned a solo trip. No interruptions, no unnecessary conversations, just relaxation and quiet. But no—of course, fate decides I have to be stuck with you.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have no plans to bother you.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Sweetheart?”
“Would you prefer Tornado?”
She glares. “I’d prefer Carter-shuts-the-hell-up.”
I let out a laugh, and for a second, her lips twitch like she’s fighting the urge to smile. But then, just as quickly, she schools her expression back into irritation.
The wind outside howls a little louder, rattling the windows, and she glances toward the storm clouds rolling in over the ocean. I follow her gaze.
“You sure this is the relaxing trip you had in mind?” I ask, watching the way her fingers tighten around her cup.
She exhales, and her voice is softer, more subdued for the first time since I met her. “Honestly? No. My friend warned me about this storm, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be so bad. I just wanted to get away. But this stormy vacation isn’t ideal. Nothing about his vacation so far is ideal, but… it’s what I’ve got.”
I study her for a moment. The frustration is there, but beneath it, something else lingers—exhaustion, maybe. Or something deeper.
“You know,” I say, setting my cup down, “I’ve got a deck of cards. We could kill some time, maybe play a few rounds?”
She arches a brow. “Are you seriously suggesting we bond over cards?”
I shrug. “Unless you’d rather sit in awkward silence for the next twelve hours.”
She huffs, but there’s something lighter in her expression now. “Fine. But just so you know, I always win.”
I grin, heading toward my bag to grab the deck. “Oh, Tornado, you have no idea what you just signed up for.”
She rolls her eyes, but I swear there’s a flicker of amusement there.
And just like that, our battle of wills turns into a game of cards, the storm raging outside while an entirely different kind of tension simmers between us.
We play a few rounds, and despite her best efforts to maintain her usual irritated facade, I catch the occasional twitch of her lips when she wins a hand. She’s competitive—annoyingly so—but I have to admit, it’s entertaining watching her get so worked up over a game of cards.
The storm outside is picking up, rattling the windows, and the power flickers for a brief moment before stabilizing again. I glance at Ivy, whose fingers tighten on her cards.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her closely.
She nods quickly, a little too quickly. “Fine. Just… not really a fan of storms.”
Noted.
I don’t push, and we keep playing, the wind howling outside as the tension between us shifts—still there, but different now. Less hostile, more… tolerable.
But as soon as I let my guard down, Ivy slaps her cards onto the table with a victorious grin. “Boom! Read ’em and weep.”
I glance at her winning hand and chuckle. “Alright, alright. You win this round.”
She crosses her arms, smug. “Told you.”
I shake my head, taking another sip of my drink. “Now that you’re all cocky from winning, how about we address the real issue here?”
Her brows furrow. “Which is?”
I gesture around the room. “We’re stuck here together for… wait, when do you leave?” I ask.
“In eight days. This was a ten-day package that I booked through my credit card company, which included my flight. I considered canceling when I found out about the storm but of course there weren’t any refunds and I wasn’t about to lose my much-needed vacation I had been saving up for, so… here I am. I’m so happy you had to be here to ruin it for me,” she feels the need to add.
“Look, I don’t think either of us wants to spend that time bickering like an old married couple.”
She scoffs. “Please. I wouldn’t marry you in a nightmare.”
I smirk. “Now, who’s full of themselves?.”
Her mouth opens—probably to throw an insult my way—but then she exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Whatever. What’s your point?”
“My point is,” I lean forward, “we should set a few ground rules. To keep the peace.”
Ivy leans back, crossing her arms, clearly suspicious. “That is an excellent idea. You can go first. Let’s hear them.”
I hold up a finger. “First—privacy. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. No unnecessary interruptions.”
“Agreed,” she says quickly. “Which means you don’t get to just knock on my door at noon and demand entry.”
I chuckle. “Your door, huh? I don’t remember offering you my bed. I mean, maybe we can share it?” I recommend, and she bursts into laughter.
“Maybe the resort staff can offer you a bed somewhere else,” she says, clearly referring to the young lady who was here before who’s name I can’t remember for the life of me. She adds, “And no barging in when I’m in the shower.”
I raise a brow. “Are you saying I should barge in when you’re not in the shower?”
Her cheeks darken. “Rule number two—no talking to me before I’ve had coffee.”
I place a hand over my heart, mock-offended. “But what if I wake up with the urgent need to annoy you?”
“Then I’ll throw you off the balcony.”
I grin. “Noted. Moving on—third rule: we split chores. If one of us cooks, the other does dishes.”
She nods slowly. “Alright, that’s reasonable. But you should know, I don’t cook.”
“Well, that works great because I’m not much of a dishes guy.” I wink. “Fourth, no talking about work. I’m here to unwind, and work is the last thing I want to discuss.”
“Fine. But I’m here to work, so I just won’t be able to tell you about it—which will be so difficult since I had plans of divulging my entire life to you effective immediately,” she says sarcastically.
“And fifth,” I say, smirking now, “if we make any bets, loser has to buy the winner a drink.”
She snorts. “Of course you’d add a dumb gambling rule.”
“What’s the matter, Tornado? Afraid of losing?”
She rolls her eyes but smirks. “Fine. But no stupid bets. And definitely no drinking games.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Deal.”
She studies me for a second, her expression unreadable. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe this is my life right now.”
I chuckle. “It could be worse.”
“Oh yeah?” She quirks a brow. “How?”
I grin. “You could’ve ended up with a roommate who actually annoys you.”
She leans forward to grab a pen from the counter, her hip brushes mine. I freeze for a second. She doesn’t move away, and neither do I. Her warmth lingers against me like a dare.
She glances up, her eyes sharp. “Personal space is one of the rules, right?”
I smirk. “You’re the one who keeps breaking it.”
She groans, standing up and grabbing her coffee. “I need to get some work done, so I’ll sit in the cabana by the beach since the weather isn’t so bad right now.
She opens her mouth, probably to throw some smartass line at me, but then she pauses—her eyes catch on mine, and for a second, the teasing fades and silence stretches.
Her gaze drops—quick, involuntary—to my mouth.
She catches herself and looks away just as fast, but not before I see it. That flicker. That want she’s trying so damn hard to bury.
I take a slow step toward her.
“Careful, Tornado,” I say, my voice lower now. Rougher. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you want me to break a few rules.”
Her breath catches. Just barely, and her body goes visibly still, like she's waiting to see what I’ll do next.
I close the space between us. Not touching her—yet. But close enough that she can feel the heat rolling off me. Her chin tilts up, her lips part slightly. I can almost taste the tension between us.
She’s not running.
I lean in—close enough to graze her ear with my words.
“For the record… I’m excellent at following rules.”
Then I pause.
“But I’m even better at breaking them.”
I pull back slowly. Her pulse is fluttering at her neck, her breath shaky. She swallows hard and clutches her coffee like it’s the only thing grounding her.
“You’re insufferable,” she mutters. “Enjoy your alone time while it lasts, Carter.”
I watch as she disappears into the cabana.
Yeah, this is going to be an interesting ten days.