Chapter Three
H ailey slept for ten hours.
Ten.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, sunlight was already sliding through the sheer curtains, painting pale gold stripes across the bedroom floor.
For one disoriented second, she had no idea where she was.
No alarm. No sirens outside her window. No phone vibrating itself toward an early grave on her nightstand.
Just sunlight.
And the ocean.
The steady hush of it rolled in through the cracked window, soft and constant, like the world breathing for her until she remembered how to do it herself.
Hailey stretched beneath the white cotton sheet and groaned.
Her body felt heavy in the best possible way, loose from sleep instead of stiff from stress. She could not remember the last time she had woken up without a crisis waiting for her.
Then memory returned in pieces.
Santa Monica.
The bungalow.
The beach.
The volleyball.
Tyler.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Oh, absolutely not,” she muttered to the empty room.
She was not going to wake up on day two of vacation thinking about a man who had introduced himself by concussing her with sports equipment.
Not that he had concussed her. Probably. Her head felt fine, aside from a faint tenderness near her temple and the lingering bruise to her dignity.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling fan turning lazily overhead.
Tyler.
That smile.
That body.
That irritating little glint in his steel-blue eyes when she told him to keep his balls to himself.
Hailey pressed both palms over her face.
“Nope,” she said again, as if repetition might make it true.
She had come here to rest. To untangle herself from work, expectations, and the constant pressure to perform. She had not come here to flirt with a beach volleyball player who wore navy swim briefs like they were a public service announcement.
Her stomach growled.
That, at least, was a problem she could solve.
Twenty minutes later, she walked down the beachside lane in a loose sundress, sandals slapping against the sidewalk, hair still damp from the shower.
The morning air was cooler than the day before, crisp at the edges, though the sun already promised heat.
Joggers passed her in expensive athletic wear.
A woman on a cruiser bike coasted by with a small white dog in the front basket.
Somewhere nearby, someone laughed over the hiss of an espresso machine.
Hailey followed the scent of coffee to a corner café called Drift.
It had wide windows thrown open to the street, a chalkboard menu, and a line long enough to suggest the coffee was either excellent or wildly overpriced. Probably both.
Inside, the café buzzed with the easy chaos of a beach morning. Bare shoulders. Sunglasses perched on heads. Laptop people pretending not to work. Tourists debating croissants. A surfer in line ahead of Hailey dripped ocean water onto the floor without a trace of shame.
Hailey ordered an iced vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin because Amanda’s rule number two required real meals, and muffins counted if they were large enough.
While she waited, she checked her phone out of habit.
No work notifications.
Because she had turned them off.
Her thumb hovered over the email app.
She could just check once.
Only once.
Just to make sure nothing had exploded.
Her phone buzzed with a text before she could betray herself.
Amanda: Don’t you dare.
Hailey stared at it.
Hailey: Are you spying on me?
Amanda: Emotionally, yes.
Hailey laughed under her breath.
Amanda: Eat something. Drink coffee. Look at beautiful people. No work.
Hailey: You’re very bossy for someone who is not my boss.
Amanda: Someone has to be. Also, sunscreen.
Hailey shook her head and tucked the phone away as the barista called her name.
She took the iced latte in one hand, the muffin bag in the other, and turned toward the door.
Directly into a wall.
A warm, hard, living wall.
Her cup compressed between them.
The lid popped off.
Iced coffee exploded across a broad bare chest and a white tank top.
For one suspended heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Hailey looked up.
Tyler Von looked down.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
Coffee dripped from his collarbone, ran in pale brown streaks over the sculpted planes of his chest, and soaked into the fabric clinging to his abs.
Hailey’s brain, traitorous and evidently unconcerned with dignity, supplied one unhelpful thought.
At least the coffee had excellent taste.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Tyler blinked once, then looked down at himself. “Morning to you too.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I’m starting to think we’re dangerous in close proximity.”
“I said I was sorry.” She grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter beside them and shoved them at him. “Here.”
He took them, but she was already dabbing at the spill, flustered and mortified, blotting coffee from his tank top before sense caught up with her hands.
His stomach tightened beneath her knuckles.
Hailey froze.
Her hand hovered just above the waistband of his shorts.
Very close to a region she had absolutely no business approaching with a napkin in a public café.
Slowly, she withdrew.
Tyler’s mouth curved.
“Careful,” he said. “You keep that up, and I’ll start thinking you spilled it on purpose.”
Heat flooded her face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m covered in your coffee. I’m trying to find a bright side.”
“The bright side is caffeine absorption through the skin.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“You’re welcome to test it and report back.”
A laugh broke from him, low and surprised.
It did something inconvenient to her stomach.
Several people in the café had turned to watch. The barista looked amused. The wet surfer gave Tyler a sympathetic nod, as if membership in the brotherhood of public messes had just been extended.
Hailey became acutely aware of the scene they were making.
“I’ll buy you another shirt,” she said quickly.
“It’s fine.”
“It is clearly not fine. You’re dripping onto the floor.”
“I’ve had worse happen before nine in the morning.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. But it might make you feel less special.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know, for someone who keeps apologizing to me, you’re very good at becoming the problem again.”
His grin widened. “I apologized yesterday. Today, you assaulted me.”
“With a latte.”
“A cold one.”
“It’s Santa Monica. You’ll survive.”
“I’m not sure. This muffin bag looks lethal too.”
Despite herself, Hailey clutched the bag closer. “The muffin is innocent.”
“So was the volleyball.”
Her gasp was immediate and offended. “The volleyball was not innocent.”
“It was just following momentum.”
“Oh, now we’re blaming physics?”
“I blame Jack first. Physics second.”
That startled a laugh out of her before she could stop it.
Tyler’s expression shifted when he heard it. The teasing remained, but something warmer moved beneath it, something that made her feel suddenly less like a woman standing in a coffee shop and more like a woman being looked at.
Really looked at.
Hailey took one step back.
His gaze flicked over her face. “How’s your head?”
The question was gentle enough to undo some of her irritation.
“Fine,” she said. “A little sore. My pride took the worst of it.”
“Your pride seems durable.”
“It has to be. I work in public relations.”
“Ah.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I suddenly understand why you can make an apology feel like a disciplinary hearing.”
She should not have smiled.
She smiled anyway.
Tyler’s eyes dropped to her mouth for half a second.
Half a second was apparently all her body needed to forget every sensible rule she had made for this trip.
She cleared her throat. “Well. Since I have now returned the favor and attacked you with a beverage, I think we’re even.”
“Even?”
“Yes.”
He glanced down at his soaked shirt. “I don’t know. My coffee was innocent too.”
“It was my coffee.”
“Not anymore.”
The barista, still trying not to smile, held up a fresh cup. “Hailey? Remade latte.”
Hailey turned to her in surprise. “Oh, thank you.”
“No problem.” The barista looked at Tyler. “You want a towel?”
“I’m good.”
He was not good. He was sticky and wet and still standing too close.
Hailey accepted the replacement latte, then looked back at him. “I really am sorry.”
“I know.”
The softness in his voice unsettled her more than the flirting had.
She could handle banter. Banter had rules. Banter had edges. Softness slipped through the cracks.
“Well,” she said, lifting her chin, “maybe next time don’t stand so close to people carrying beverages.”
His eyebrows rose. “So it’s my fault?”
“You are very large.”
“That’s not usually a complaint.”
Her pulse tripped.
His smile turned wicked enough to prove he knew exactly what he had said.
Hailey’s grip tightened around her muffin bag.
“I’m leaving now,” she announced.
“Running away again?”
“I am walking away with purpose.”
“Toward the beach?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ll be there later.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You looked like you might want to know.”
She gave him her most professional smile. The one that said she could bury a scandal before lunch and ruin a man’s sponsorship portfolio by dinner.
“Tyler?”
“Yes, Hailey?”
“Enjoy your caffeine shower.”
Then she turned and walked out of the café before he could see how badly she was fighting a smile.
Outside, the sun hit her face, bright and merciless.
She made it half a block before she stopped, closed her eyes, and groaned.
She had touched his abs.
In public.
With napkins.
This vacation was going to be the death of her.
Behind her, through the open café window, she heard Tyler laugh.
The sound followed her down the street like trouble.