Chapter 9 #2
When my brain starts working again, I shake my head and clear my throat, ignoring how badly I keep embarrassing myself.
“Where are you staying?” I finally blurt out, my voice raspy from screaming earlier.
My eyes dart from Haze to West, then to Beau, searching their faces like a detective, trying to figure out why they’re all here.
Together. I know West and Haze are in construction, maybe this is a work holiday?
And it makes sense that Beau would join because he wouldn't want to miss out on a vacation with Haze.
They look at each other first, their brows furrowing in perfectly synchronized confusion, then back at me.
“Uhh… here,” Haze says slowly. That smirk, still plastered across his face and I choose not to acknowledge it. “At least, that’s what the guy who dropped us off said. Right before he gave us the keys. You’re stuck with us.”
That’s just great. I have to share a house with three men for just under a fortnight. Not just any men. Three men who, at some point, have played the naughtiest fucking roles in my mind.
I know I said I was never going to drink again, but if there isn’t alcohol in this fucking house, I am hurling myself off this roof and into the ocean.
“Looks like we're roomies,” Beau says, but he’s staring directly at West, who doesn't look the least bit pleased about this realization. Neither am I, West, neither am I.
I spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in one of the available bedrooms, avoiding the three ridiculously hot men on the other side of my door for as long as humanly possible.
It's true. It should be illegal to be that attractive. Still, I was exhausted. Physically, emotionally and socially. And dare I admit it, I needed some time and space to recalibrate. This vacation was supposed to be my break. A reset. A chance to switch off. And while this might only be day two, so far it has been the total opposite of relaxing. Instead, it somehow turned into one giant emotional obstacle course of unresolved drama and complicated history with the one broody man who can’t even bring himself to look at me.
While that might be for good reason, I would be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little.
I know I don’t owe West anything. What happened with him was a total misunderstanding and I’d made that clear when it happened.
How Theo responds is out of my control and to be honest, I don't care what he thinks of me.
Not anymore. My only regret is not leaving Theo sooner.
If I had, none of this would have happened.
I wouldn’t be feeling inappropriate things and thinking inappropriate thoughts about his father.
I just have to work out a way to co-exist with the man until this vacation is over.
Something is telling me West is not going to make it easy for me.
Not when it’s obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that he despises me, because after all that’s said and done, I’m still his son’s ex-girlfriend.
And understandably, his loyalty will always lie with him.
I exhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling as sunlight spills across my bed, painting my room in shades of warm, golden hues.
I can’t stop myself from replaying what happened at the show the other night.
The way West held and reassured me that everything would be okay.
Especially after I’d convinced myself that winning the prize money was off the table because I was convinced he wouldn’t go through with it, given the circumstances.
Obviously, I was wrong. He not only gave me the confidence to keep going, to ignore the crowd, our opponents and that god-awful host, but he helped me ground myself and focus.
I was able to imagine that it was only him and me in that theatre, and because of that, I was able to complete each of our challenges, which were so beyond risquè it wasn’t funny.
Out of character? Fuck yes. Does he know that?
No. And it worked to my advantage. I flirted with him in ways I've never done with anyone else, not even Theo, and now we're both fifty thousand dollars richer.
I still can’t believe it.
Knowing we won that amount of money brings on a wave of strange feelings.
Relief and disbelief all at the same time.
No more panicking over bills or juggling invoices.
No more lying awake at night calculating how long I can survive if more than one client cancels at once.
My shoulders loosen for the first time in about a year.
I’m going to make it. My business. My dream.
When everyone was partying in high school, I was at home planning and romanticizing what my future would look like.
I didn’t want anything fancy. I just wanted to do something that would allow me to shine creatively.
A way to express myself. I can’t paint to save my life, so that was out, and despite the past week, I’m a fantastic organizer!
I love taking something from nothing and making it beautiful, all while standing back, watching my clients’ faces light up with glee, knowing I am the reason for their happiness.
That is why I do what I do and why I left my old job and started Perfect Match Design.
I wanted credit for my own work. I was tired of giving my all to something and feeling nothing but defeated in return.
I didn’t want to resent what once made me excited to get up in the morning and I knew that if I stayed where I was at my old job, that’s exactly what would have happened.
Nothing about branching out on my own has been easy.
I’ve done it with zero help, despite my brothers and even Shiloh offering it to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for them, truly I am.
There are plenty of people who’d probably slap me for turning it away.
It’s just that… I wanted to have something for me, by me.
Just like Shiloh with her tattooing business, and my brothers’ and Zane’s band, Stone Cold.
They all started from nothing and against all odds, in their own right, they’re all so successful, no thanks to anyone else.
It’s kind of hard to compete with that. Not that it's a competition, or anything, because it isn't. I just wanted that for myself too.
Thanks to West and the embarrassing performance we put on, I not only have the confidence to achieve that, but also the financial backing to keep going.
That realization puts a spring in my step as I climb out of the world’s most comfortable bed, slip into a fresh sundress that’s a little on the revealing side, thanks to Shiloh, and brush my hair into something vaguely presentable.
I pause in front of the mirror, tilt my head and take one last long look at my outfit.
“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “Let’s be halfway decent today.”
Because yesterday? Yesterday I was not.
I hadn’t even said hello to the guys and that’s not who I am.
Between trying to survive reptile terror and navigating sea sickness, I’d completely forgotten how to act like a normal person.
My nerves were frayed as it was and the fact that West, once again, popped up out of nowhere, I could barely think straight.
Dammit Jovi! Why do I keep thinking about him? Can I just have one thought where he doesn’t worm his way into my mind? If I’m going to leave this trip without pulling my damn hair out, I’m going to need to keep a level head and for some reason, I can’t when it comes to him.
Decision made, I head downstairs, listening to the soft sound of the waves and distant laughter drifting through the open windows as the warm morning air brushes against my skin.
I hadn’t had a chance to look around yesterday.
I sort of beelined it to the nearest, empty bedroom and stayed there until now.
But… wow. It’s next level. Open plan, light flooding in from every angle, overlooking the living and dining areas.
And then there's the ocean. Ugh. It’s perfect.
Marble floors shimmer beneath my feet, teak cabinetry gleams, and the benchtops look like they're made out of pieces of the moon.
I brush my fingers over the smooth surface. Quartz? How… expensive.
My eyes wander before landing on the bar tucked into the corner of the dining area.
I walk over, sliding open the small refrigerator built into the side of the bar and my jaw drops when I see that it’s full.
Fresh fruit is lined perfectly in neatly displayed containers.
Color-coordinated, each with its own individual row.
They even have garnishes and basically everything you could ever need to make whatever the hell you’d like.
This is my heaven. I grab a couple of glasses from the hanging rack above the counter and, without overthinking it, start pulling ingredients together to make a breakfast smoothie.
Beau Baker might be an award-winning legend back home for his impressive bartender skills, but I don’t care.
We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and hopefully this can be enough to mend whatever impression they have of me.
I know I shouldn’t care, but if I’m to survive being in their proximity, I’m going to need to show them a little more than the bratty, monster version of myself everyone witnessed yesterday.
And I hope to the gods that Haze forgets seeing me drool all over him because I don't think I can handle him bringing it up.
Satisfied with my magazine-worthy peace offerings, I place them on a serving tray and follow the laughter and splashing sounds drifting from somewhere outside.
If I’m lucky, we can all pretend nothing ever happened between West and me and just enjoy the vacation none of us expected to turn out this way.
Even if it means ignoring the part of me still stuck on what we did and what I won’t admit I want to do.
I have no business feeling anything for Theo’s dad, yet every time he doesn’t look at me, I can’t help but feel that annoying little twinge of disappointment that follows.
Like I want him to see me. To see that I am more than every single impression he’s had of me thus far and prove to him that I’m not what he says I am.
Trouble. The thought of him having a nickname for me should enrage me, especially given the circumstances surrounding our previous interactions, but it does the total opposite.
I can’t lie, it turned me on when he said it the other night and for that, I should be studied.
I have no room for a relationship in my life right now, not if my last one is anything to go by.
Not to mention the repercussions that would follow if we ever started something.
Still, is that enough to put an end to my curiosity? No.
I take a deep breath and shove it down, pressing the tray of smoothies tighter to my chest. One step at a time.
One day at a time. I can get through this, right?
So why do I get the feeling that I’m about to walk straight into a den of wolves?
And why is that thought as equally terrifying as it is intriguing?