Chapter 9
JOVI
THIS WAS NOT ON MY ITINERARY!
“Here we are,” my chauffeur says cheerfully, as if we haven’t just spent the last ten minutes slowly roasting in a taxi with no air-conditioning.
It's hot as hell, and I’m sweating in places you don't really want to know about.
I'm from the snowy mountains and as much as I like the idea of summer, fruity dresses, cocktails, and the beach, I am not climatized for this. The cruise ship docked on an island earlier today and I was met with a man holding a large sign with my name on it. He guided me onto a small motorboat where I spent the entire boat ride drenched in salty sea spray, gripping the sides for dear life and distracting myself however I could to avoid letting the man in on what I’d eaten for breakfast this morning.
Once we made it to the dock, I learned that the house I’d be staying in was on the other side of the island for privacy.
From there, we climbed into a taxi that was definitely built in the nineties because this thing has zero suspension.
I can feel every damn bump in the road, and it only makes the worst case of nausea I think I've ever had even worse.
Let's just say, by the time we pull up, I'm utterly exhausted.
“Thank you so much,” I mumble, my eyes glued to the most breathtaking, luxurious house I’ve ever seen.
Floor to ceiling windows stretch across the front and overlook the clear, crystal-blue water that blends into various shades of aquamarine.
Wooden slats cover parts of the exterior, adding warmth and texture to the otherwise modern structure, and I could really see myself living here.
Dutchess would have a field day. It truly is magnificent, but I hope to God it has air-conditioning.
The driver gets out and opens the passenger door for me, and I step out onto a cobblestone pathway that leads up to the front porch of the house. I sway a little and he reaches a hand out to steady me.
“Whoa! Easy, miss!”
“I'm fine. Thanks. Just a little car sick.”
“Your luggage will arrive momentarily. If you need anything, the staff live in a villa about two hundred meters through those trees.
They're contactable and everything you need to reach out to them is written on a card by the telephone inside. Here is your key, miss.” He hands me a card.
“The refrigerators are stocked. Enjoy your stay. Congratulations on your win.” With a wave, he drives off.
I wave back, taking it all in. I could get used to this.
Silence, nobody bothering me, no stress.
I reach into my handbag for my phone to call Shiloh. To update her on… well, everything, but there's barely enough reception to send a text message. Instead, I snap some photos of the gorgeous view and that's when I see it. I freeze.
“What the fuck!”
Dozens of iguanas, each the size of small dogs, are closing in on me. My heart nearly stops fucking beating. I scream, at least I think I do, as I back up a couple of steps.
“Go the fuck away, you land vultures! Go on! Ahhh! Oh my fucking God!” I'm shooing them at this point, but they couldn't care less as they proceed to surround me. I'm going to die.
The door to the house swings open and out of the corner of my eye, I see tall, massive figures rushing toward me. I risk a quick glance in their direction and see three shirtless, tattooed men, their muscles gleaming in the sun, but I don't let my eyes linger because I’m about to be iguana food.
“Please! Oh my God! Get a stick. Something! They’re fucking everywhere!”
There's silence. Then uncontrollable laughter erupts around me. I spin, panicked, and shoot them a death glare because how dare they think this is funny, then my heart flies from my chest, straight to my throat. West. Of course, because this vacation couldn’t get any worse.
“Guys, it’s not funny. Those things are terrifying,” a familiar deep voice says and I turn, doing a double take when I see Beau Baker standing beside West and… Haze Lawson. What the hell? Why are they here? I don't have time for this. I’m being held hostage by dog lizards.
“They're harmless,” Haze breathes out, his voice filled with laughter, which really doesn't suit the level of terror I’m currently experiencing. Read the damn room.
“Harmless? They're the size of Shetland ponies!?” My voice cracks and West and Haze’s chuckles grow louder as my heartbeat hammers like a drum in my ears, my chest heaving uncontrollably. “Stop fucking laughing and kick them or something!”
“Okay. Umm. Don’t panic,” Beau says, holding out his hands, his eyes not leaving the horrid lizards for a second. Great. My knight in shining armor is no better than I am. “They’re probably more scared of us than we are of them… right?” If he’s trying to soothe me, he’s doing a shit job.
“Oh? They’re afraid of us! My bad. I couldn't tell by the way their tongues hang out of their mouths, staring at me like I’m on their fucking menu!” I reply, too afraid to move in case one of them gets any ideas and tries to follow me.
“They won’t hurt you. They’re just curious. They think you have food.” This comes from a very unhelpful West, and when I meet the eyes of one of the iguanas, I swear, it tilts its spiked head in an evil, horror movie gesture, before it starts running toward me.
“Fuck! Noo, no, no!” Panic hits me with full force and without thinking, I jump, my limbs flying out in every direction before landing straight into the arms of Beau. A very shirtless Beau.
Nobody says a word as I stare up at him.
His eyes are prettier than I remember. One so blue it’s almost the color of the sky, the other a mix of green and amber and they’re both locked on me.
Wow, he’s pretty. His brown hair is tied back, loose strands brushing the sides of his handsome face and threaded with those natural highlights you only get from spending time in the sun.
And his tattoos… they snake over his shoulders and down his muscular arms, dark ink against his golden skin.
He’s come a long way since high school. I’ve seen him around town over the years, passed him on the street, caught glimpses of him here and there, but I guess I never really paid much attention, because the man holding me right now is nothing like the quiet, nerdy guy who used to pass me in the halls at school, looking like he’d rather swallow a bunch of needles than talk to me.
Haze clears his throat behind us and I glance over to see him giving West a knowing look.
West ignores him, standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, his gaze fixed anywhere but on Beau and me.
Right. Well, that answers that. I can tell by the way he refuses to look at me that he’s just as humiliated by what happened at the show last night as I am.
Maybe more. Avoidance might not erase what happened between us, but I am all for pretending that it didn’t if it means zero drama.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. And no, it wasn’t because I was still riding the high of winning fifty thousand dollars, because what the actual fuck?
! I haven’t even begun to fully process that yet.
It was because I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head.
This week has been the most chaotic week of my entire life, and now I’ve added a life-altering, chemistry-fueled kiss with a man I don’t even know, who also happens to be Theo’s dad into the mix.
Because apparently, I hate peace.
My heart finally starts to settle after the lizard-induced panic attack, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, as Beau carries me toward the front entrance of the house.
West and Haze trail close behind us. Beau gently sets me back on my feet, his hands lingering for a little longer than necessary, and we both clear our throats, putting some distance between us.
I situate myself, smoothing over the fabric of my dress before taking a step toward the door.
I spin around and my gaze flicks between the three shirtless bodies, standing there like a bunch of lost puppies.
They share a look with each other, as if they each know a secret I’m not privy to.
My gaze rolls over Haze, and it's as if I'm only now registering that he's actually here and okay… hello, muscles. I realize I should probably look away, because even I know this is weird. I’m also fully aware that he can tell I'm staring, but fucking hell.
The man is solid. He stands there all macho and broody like, as if he owns the air we breathe and you know what?
He just might. Tattoos wrap around his arms, a chaotic mess of forest trees and mountains, which weren't there when I last saw him.
They make him look dangerous, in a good way, of course.
I remind myself of the correct etiquette because touching him would be the incorrect thing to do at this moment.
His beard is trimmed nicely across that square jaw I always used to stare at endlessly and goddammit, he’s looking right at me. His brow is raised and there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Great.
Jovi Jett Stone, for the love of God, look at the fucking ground, or something.
The crush I had on Haze and Beau when we were in school was next level.
I mean, I never acted on it. I was way too shy.
And when they came out to everyone and officially started dating, I fan-girled so fucking hard for them it's borderline embarrassing.
I've always silently rooted for them on the sidelines, hoping they’d stay together because Blue River wasn't always kind to my brothers and Zane when they came out, and as much as they acted like they didn't care what people thought, I knew better. It hurt them that the people we grew up around tried to tear them down. Though joke’s on them because my brothers went on to become world-famous rock stars and to me, that's winning.