Chapter 3
Saylor
I mean, I wasn’t lying. I’d never had a daddy kink—but I was starting to see the appeal.
Malcolm was gorgeous. He had that whole scruffy surfer vibe down pat. His clearly toned body was beyond hot. And I’d always been a fan of a guy with a dimple. The combination had me flirting outrageously with this stranger.
Flirting that was clearly welcome, judging by the warmth in his dark blue eyes.
“Chicken tagine for the lady.” A large bowl of stew-y chicken slid to a rest in front of me. “And a spicy tuna bowl for the gentleman. Kana vinaka. And we have a few choices for dessert later if you’re interested.” Our waitress melted into the background.
“And now I have meal envy.” Malcolm nodded at my bowl.
“There’s more than enough here. Feel free to help yourself.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave me a smoldering look. “Noted.”
My cheeks burned as I dug into my dinner. I hadn’t meant that.
Or had I?
What had my bestie, Jayne, told me before I left? ‘The best way to get over a guy is to get under another. Enjoy your trip.’ Complete with eyebrow wiggle.
I’d rolled my eyes at her, but now I was thinking her advice might just come in handy.
If I could ever find my courage to make a move.
But then again, maybe I wouldn’t be the one making the move.
“Uh, how long are you staying on the island, Malcolm?” I asked before forking some of the tender chicken into my mouth.
He winced. “Call me Mal. Please.”
I nodded.
“I think my booking is for two weeks. I need to doublecheck though. Last time I stayed here, I came with a group, and we had the run of the place. The whole couple-y vibe took me by surprise.”
I bit my lip and dragged my fork through the sauce in my bowl. “I’m assuming from your solo attendance here and that little scene on the plane that you’re single?”
He tipped his head. “No, I’m in a relationship. With myself. It’s going really great.”
I laughed. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
“But yes, I’m single.” He shrugged. “Have been for a long time. By choice, of course.”
“Clearly.” My eyes widened as I realized how transparent I was being.
But Mal just smiled and then took a drink from his water glass.
And I might’ve watched him a beat longer than was socially acceptable.
Yeah, definitely going to have to learn some new social skills.
Clearing my throat, I picked up my fork and pretended to be interested in my meal when really I was just watching Mal out of the corner of my eye.
“So you’re not going to even ask?” Mal asked me as he stabbed at his bowl with his chopsticks, leaving the conventional utensils on the table.
I watched, impressed, as he deftly carried rice and tuna to his mouth. His luscious lips parted and he made a growl-humming sound that had me clenching my thighs together.
“Ask what?” I murmured, spellbound and so freaking turned on. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this way with my ex, if ever. He’d been more of a lights off and under the covers kinda guy. Something told me Mal wasn’t about that. He probably preferred an audience.
I shivered at the thought.
He chewed and swallowed before reaching for his water glass. “About what I do. You’re not curious?”
I lifted a shoulder. “We can talk about it if you want.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t want to. It’s why I’m here. To get away from that. From everything, really.”
His babbling was endearing. I smiled at him.
He shrugged. “I’m just surprised. Most girls want to know what’s up. Exploit it if they can. Get what they want from me—sex, clout, money.” He shrugged again, staring down at his tuna bowl. “Can’t remember the last time someone didn’t look at me and mentally catalogue what I was worth.”
“Well, that’s sad.”
He snorted in agreement and tipped his head. “It’s the sad truth.”
“If it’s a contest—I can see your sad story and raise you an even sadder one. I guarantee you, I’ll win by a mile.” I sighed and traced my fork through my bowl. Just thinking about the whole scene I fled back home made my stomach knot. “But like you, I’m here trying to get away from everything.”
“It’s good to leave the heaviness of life behind and just be in the moment, huh?”
I nodded. “You have no idea.”
“No, you have no idea, but thank you. I like you, Saylor Tate.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back at him. “I like you, Mal Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is-Again.”
He chuckled lightly then picked up his chopsticks and dug into his tuna bowl.
The earlier sexual tension fell away, and I felt a companionable warmth just being in Mal’s company. It was hard to be annoyed at that.
Maybe I’d get a handle on this whole being single thing.
Eventually.
Once we’d stuffed ourselves with tuna, chicken, and a delicious chocolate cake, we stumbled across the dark beach, lit only by torches lining the path.
“Thank you for rescuing me back there.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the dining space we’d just left. “This whole being single thing is going to take some getting used to.”
Mal nodded. “I think it’s important to be okay with yourself before you try being part of a couple.”
I groaned. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to get philosophical tonight.”
“Noted.” Mal laughed lightly. “Although if that was an invitation to have a drink back at your place, I should tell you that I’m sober.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Going on eight years now.”
“Wow. Congrats. That’s a feat. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“Is this a bad time to point out that eight years ago I was fourteen?”
Mal groaned and clutched at his chest. “You’re killing me here, baby girl.”
I snickered. Looking up at him, I was relieved to see that he was smiling back at me. I didn’t want him to think the age difference was a deterrent in any way.
“First rule of dating an older man: do not continually point out what an old fart he is.”
“I can safely say that I would never use those words to describe you.” We stopped at the staircase leading up to my treehouse.
The words asking him to come up for a drink were on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back because—one, he was sober so it was a horrible question, and two, despite my bravado, I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
But hopefully I would be before the end of our two-week stay.
“Thanks again for dinner.” I climbed the first step then turned back to face him. “How about I buy dinner tomorrow night?”
The resort was all-inclusive, but that wasn’t the point.
“Only if you let me buy breakfast tomorrow morning.” Mal tipped his head.
My lips quirked as I fought to hide my smile. “Sounds like a plan. Us silly singles have to stick together at this couple-y resort.”
Mal closed the distance between us and stared straight into my eyes despite me standing one step up. “I plan on sticking as close as you’ll let me, baby girl. Sleep tight.”
I swayed toward him, but he sighed and took a step backward. He waited there a beat, still staring into my eyes. I held my breath at their smoldering promise. He inclined his head again and nodded at the stairs behind me, clearly waiting for me to go up.
I released a shuddering breath, turned, and climbed, aware of his eyes on my rear the whole way up.
No pressure.
My mind was a tangle of confusion as I got ready for bed—alone. All the new feelings Mal had brought out in me warred with my anger about my ex. I was still pissed at him, and as I took my makeup off, the vivid, yellowish-green bruise on my cheek was a stark reminder of why.
But underlying it all was a new sense of hope.
* * *
“You tell your fiancé, Trent Hale, that we’re serious.
” His thick, accented words puffed so close to my face I could smell the nicotine on his breath as he bent next to me.
“He doesn’t want me showing up at his wedding Saturday with extra guests.
Screwing over the Aslanov Bratva is a serious fucking mistake.
One his loved ones will pay in blood and pain. ”
His hand threaded through my hair and yanked until I fell to my knees.
A pained whimper left me, and then everything froze as I felt something large, cold, and metallic press into my uninjured cheek.
I woke up with a muffled scream.
Because this time the gun went off.
Only I wasn’t in my apartment building’s garage.
Sunny skies highlighted the grass cloth wallpaper I spied through the wispy mosquito netting. The gentle sound of waves lapping at the beach below me came from the open window on my right.
It was so surreal. Just all quiet and peaceful.
So very different from my dream.
I slumped into my soft mattress with a groan.
And then my phone alerted with a new text message, piercing the calm.
Mom: I can’t believe you just left. It’s so irresponsible.
I sighed. I couldn’t believe she was taking his side in this whole thing.
Actually, I could totally believe it.
Groaning, I staggered out of bed and padded to the bathroom to take care of business. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands and brushed my teeth.
Shame was a weird beast. I hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. But this cloud had hovered over me since I’d found out what Trent had been up to. When the police showed up, and I answered the door holding an icepack to my face. When I had to tell my parents I was canceling the wedding.
When I showed up here alone.
I sighed.
I really just wanted to hole up in my bed and mope, but the siren song of coffee called for me, and I didn’t know how to operate the fancy espresso machine in my room. And really, I was too damn exhausted to try.
Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I pulled on some shorts and a tee. Pausing in my doorway, I tried to shake off the gloom of my mom’s text and that fucking memory that continued to haunt me.
This was supposed to be a fun escape.
Leave that shit behind, Saylor.
I forced a skip to my step as I closed the door and headed for the stairs
“What the fuck happened to your face!” The words came from ten feet away, at the bottom of my treehouse stairs.
I froze, teetering about six steps from the bottom.