Chapter 6
SIX
TAY
Early December, Song Saa Island
The speedboat skimmed across water of a blue so unreal I half expected someone to peel back the sky and reveal the movie set underneath.
We’d passed on the air-conditioned interior—too cooped up, too detached.
Out here, wind clawed at my hair, salt spray slapping my face like the ocean had a personal beef.
It was an aggressive wake-up call that shook me out of my travel exhaustion.
Next to me, Dean gripped the railing, our shoulders overlapping as the island rose from the sea like something straight out of a Hollywood production.
Jungle greenery spilled down to white beaches, and wooden villas perched over the sea like luxury fishing huts that cost more a night than I’d make in a month.
I bumped Dean’s elbow with my own. “So, this is where we start acting like we’ve seen each other naked, right? As in totally, irrefutably naked.”
Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the smile that curved his mouth echoed the teasing note in his voice. “You’re as subtle as a heart attack. Please be more direct.”
“That’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes.” He tilted his head, one corner of his mouth twitching up further. “That’s a yes, babe.”
I was past the point where he could make me stammer and blush. Really, I was.
“Pet names?” I asked lightly. “Don’t think that’s covered in the contract, honey.”
“Section two, third footnote.”
The boat docked with a gentle bump, its engine settling into silence.
Staff materialized to welcome us in style—warm towels, necklaces with little wooden starfish hanging off them, every smile polished to corporate perfection.
We were handed pale yellow drinks that came with absurdly lush pink blossoms, making me wonder if I’d wandered into someone else’s far-too-expensive dream.
Our butler—our butler—introduced himself with an air so smooth it bordered on a slip hazard, yet somehow managed to stay on the right side of too much. “Anytime you need a buggy ride,” he said, “snacks or drinks, a reservation in one of our restaurants—just send me a message. Day or night.”
Right. As I’d learned in the ER, true emergencies don’t respect office hours—and neither, it seemed, did cravings for bubbly on a private island. Dean looked over right as I glanced at him, some of my own disbelief mirrored in the twitch of his mouth.
Next, we were ushered over to a fountain for an arrival photo that would help the staff remember our names. “Our first couple photo,” I murmured to Dean as we stepped close and I slipped my arm around his waist. Casual. Except also coupley. But not like I was—ugh, stop.
“Better make it count,” he muttered back. While I was short-circuiting inside my skin, his hand settled on my shoulder like this was an everyday pose for us. He smiled, restrained and diplomatic, while mine felt slightly unhinged around the corners.
Click. Done.
I let my arm fall. “Rich-people problems, huh?”
His touch lingered for just a moment longer before he chuckled under his breath. “Honey, if the lighting’s not flattering, they’ll just airbrush our pores into oblivion.”
“It’s the least they can do,” I agreed with a solemn nod.
He bit down on a grin, obvious in the subtle shift of his expression. “Now you’re starting to get it.”
A golf cart whisked us away along winding paths cut through jungle-thick greenery.
Colorful flowers bloomed in splashes of pinks, purples, and yellows like they were showing off.
Somewhere in the canopy, unseen birds held court, probably judging my clearance-rack T-shirt like it’d tank the exclusive resort vibes.
“You’re in one of our honeymoon villas,” the butler announced as he steered us onto a curved wooden pier. “For privacy, these are set apart—no neighbors, just the reef beneath your feet. You’ll find your private plunge pool on the deck, with uninterrupted sunset views.”
Uh. Honeymoon villa?
Dean inhaled like he might combust. “Charley,” he told me in an undertone, and oh, of course.
“Is this her opening gambit?” I asked, grinning a little. I mean, hey—private plunge pool? Sunset views? Perched above the reef? Bring it.
“Gird your loins.” His voice was dry as dust but underlaid with something softer, a little fond.
Our villa—our villa, which, yes, repetitive—appeared behind a line of others like it had planned a dramatic entrance, its thatched roof catching the sunlight.
Inside, a glass rectangle in the floor flashed glimpses of fish below, gentle waves lapping against the villa’s foundational pillars.
Through the windows, a plunge pool sparkled as if to challenge the ocean.
Champagne and an overflowing fruit basket awaited, alongside a bed large enough for football tryouts.
It was covered in rose petals. Not just scattered—blanketed, like someone had been paid per bloom. They spilled off the blanket in gentle cascades, trailed to the floor like a floral crime scene.
I caught Dean’s eye. He mouthed, “Charley,” with the resigned precision of a man who’d lived through this kind of spectacle before.
Ha. She and my sister, Leyla, would get on like a house on fire.
Once we were alone, Dean let out a slow breath. “Okay, so. Honeymoon ridiculousness aside, I’m starting to see why Charley said she’d drown me if I didn’t share this with someone, anyone. It’s… nice. Isn’t it?”
It was, yeah. Plus, thanks for the timely reminder that I was here because he felt obliged to bring me, not because he wanted to. That was fine; I knew my place.
“Well,” I said, pointing at myself. “This particular anyone is pretty fucking blown away by the experience.”
His gaze snagged on me, a brief frown washing across his face. “You’re not just anyone, Tay.”
“I…” Stupid words. My pulse skittered like a crab hurrying out of sight. “Thanks?”
“Really. I’m glad you’re here.” He sounded a little unsure, shoulders tightening just the faintest margin, as if I might take this tiny slice of vulnerability and slap him with it. It hurt a little to think how he’d learned that.
“I’m glad you invited me,” I said, perhaps a little too softly. “Rather than, say, some hedge fund manager with opinions about avocados.”
His laugh was low, but in the space that surrounded us, quiet but for the easy rhythm of the waves, it felt bigger and brighter.
We watched each other for a moment that thrummed in my blood like heady wine, gentle heat crawling up the back of my neck.
Travel exhaustion tugged me towards the bed, only I wasn’t quite ready yet to discuss sides and sleeping preferences.
There was only one large blanket under the roses. Which—honeymoon villa. So, yeah. Obviously.
“Swim?” I asked into the stretch of silence. Without waiting for a response, I crossed over to my suitcase and flipped it open like it contained my composure.
“Sounds good,” Dean said from behind me.
I threw a grin over my shoulder and—huh. I caught him staring at my ass. Maybe? His gaze flicked away too quickly to tell for sure.
My fingers brushed my trunks. Should I take them to the bathroom? But, no. I wasn’t shy about my body, and in theory, we might have changed around each other before in the locker room—although probably not. I would have remembered.
So I dropped my gear right where I stood, my back to him, not sure if I heard him hitch in a quick breath or if it was all in my mind. I didn’t dare check, torn between sudden shyness and a current of reckless confidence.
When I turned, he was staring out the window with an expression that seemed almost carefully neutral. Impossible to read him. And anyway, what did I even want from him—attention, respect, friendship? Sex?
Well, I had a week to figure it out.
“See you in the water,” I told his profile, letting a grin warm my voice.
“In a minute, yeah.”
I stepped onto the sun-warmed deck, the water below so clear I could count fish darting over the reef. Heat pressed close without being rude about it, eased by a light breeze that chased across my skin. For a second, I felt so bright I might burst with it, lit up from the inside.
God, I’d needed this.
I eased myself down the ladder until I felt sand beneath my feet, then dove straight into the lagoon.
Silky water wrapped around me, just cool enough to feel refreshing.
I resurfaced, shaking water from my hair as I blinked into the sunlight.
Technically, I should’ve gone for the sunscreen first—UV index at this latitude was nothing to sneeze at.
But hey, I could have this for just a minute longer, face tipped back and eyes closed.
A shadow fell across me. I looked up.
Dean stood on the deck in just a pair of turquoise trunks.
Light played over his body like a lover’s touch, which…
cheesy, yeah, but kind of true, and I could have named every muscle on display—pectorals, obliques, the cut of his deltoids.
Years of anatomy classes paid off, apparently.
But right now, I was perfectly happy to ditch clinical precision in favor of appreciating the decorative value.
He slid into the water with a little smile. For a few suspended seconds, we simply floated, the silence filled by our breathing and the lazy slap of waves. Other wedding guests must have arrived as well, but right now, it felt like there was no one else but us.
“This really is nice,” he said after a beat.
“Nice?” Laughter tickled my throat. “Sure. And the Empire State Building is a modest walk-up.”
Tiny lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Pretty sure you’re here to stroke my ego, not be a smartass.”
Oh, I’d be happy to stroke something.
I didn’t say that—true, maybe, but I didn’t care for any potential awkwardness. So I let a grin sneak across my face. “In public, yeah. The minute there are people, I’ll be the most doting boyfriend you’ve never had.”