11. Piper
11
PIPER
I was officially in paradise.
Lush, tropical, flower-scented paradise, complete with the promise of a waterfall somewhere in the distance. How was this my job?
Adding to the strangeness was the fact that I was holding hands with the man I used to detest, who I now had to admit I actually liked .
And thankfully, the Sullivans had warmed to him too. They’d given us a tour of their stunning home, and we were now checking out our private bungalow, which was down the hill from the main house.
Our accommodations were what I’d call “fancy Hawaiian rustic”—soaring, bleached wood paneled vaulted ceiling and a wall of windows on the back side with white billowy curtains blowing in the breeze. It was quiet luxury with a focus on comfort and honoring the environment.
“This way, this way,” Jean beckoned as she walked through the space. “I want you to see the view from the back.”
“You’re not going to believe it,” Joe added with a wink.
Vincent pulled me along until the four of us were looking out the open back wall, gazing out over the rolling fields of heliotrope. Miles of purple stretched out before us, the occasional flicker of pink and white wildflowers breaking through the violet sea.
No wonder the space smelled so sweet.
“It’s perfect,” Vincent said with awe.
I knew he was thinking about the harvest, but it sounded like real appreciation for the natural beauty of the land.
“We’re pretty proud of it,” Joe said. “Glad you’re here to see it.”
I held my breath. Whatever Vincent said next could make or break the entire trip. I’d secured us the time with the Sullivans, but we still needed to jump through the hoops they presented in order to get to the contract stage. And Vincent had to prove there was more to him than the jackass they’d met at the engagement party.
He turned to Joe. “I’m honored that you trust this harvest to Summit. Your contribution is the key to Evermore ’s success, and we love that your farm’s DNA will always be a part of it. Thank you for all of this.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Humble. Appreciative. Kind. Perfect.
“It’s our great pleasure,” Joe replied.
The two men regarded one another for a few seconds, as if they were silently sealing the deal.
“Now, come see the outdoor shower!” Jean said as she scurried down a hallway.
Joe followed right behind her, leaving us bringing up the rear.
“Outdoor shower?” Vincent muttered to me under his breath. “What is this, summer camp?”
Ah, there he was. He hadn’t lost his edge after all.
“ Stop ,” I whispered, giving him a soft punch to the gut that only made him chuckle.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the possibility of showering outside either until I saw what Jean meant. We stepped into an oasis of a bathroom, where the white porcelain soaking tub bordered a completely open-air space with two waterfall shower heads. The privacy wall that blocked off the area was made of black volcanic rock, and the vines and tree branches grew down on it as if it was a natural part of the environment.
“Okay, wow ,” I breathed.
“Have you ever tried an outdoor shower?” Jean asked.
I shook my head.
“Not one like this,” Vincent said. “I used a makeshift one when I was summiting a mountain, but that was a very different experience.”
Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say two shower heads mean twice the fun.”
It took a second for me to understand what he meant. I blushed, unable to stop myself from picturing it, even though there was no way Vincent and I were going to shower together.
Although…it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard.
“I’m looking forward to giving it a try,” Vincent said with a smile. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.
So many sparklers went off along my spine. How were we going to manage this?
“Aww,” Jean sighed. “You two are so sweet together. I can’t wait to hear all about your story over dinner tonight. I know you’re both probably exhausted, so should we meet at six?”
I was ready to do whatever it took to sell our love story, but I was happy they wanted an early dinner, because I was already feeling the time change.
“Works for us, right, hon?” Vincent asked me.
“It gives me just enough time to freshen up,” I replied.
“Do you dress for dinner?” Vincent asked.
I started to make a crack about a nude meal but thought better of it.
“Most of the time, we follow island rules,” Joe laughed. “Flip-flops are considered ‘dressed.’ Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”
Thanks to Vincent’s assistant Linda, I had a suitcase filled with options. We’d gone on a quick shopping trip with Vincent’s card at his insistence, saying that since it was a business trip, it was the business’s responsibility to make sure I had everything I needed, including clothes to suit the occasion. Even though he’d told me to get whatever I wanted, it took Linda’s gentle push to get me to pile up my choices on the counter at the fancy boutique he’d suggested.
“You two rest up, or do whatever,” Jean winked at us. “See you at six—come hungry.”
They walked out holding hands, leaving us alone.
“I guess I should unpack,” I said. I was happy to have a task to keep busy because the reality of what we were doing was slowly dawning on me.
Spending the night. In the same room. With my hot-as-fuck boss.
“That’s been taken care of. Check the closet,” Vincent called after me.
I frowned. What? No way. I pulled open the door to the room-sized closet and sure enough, every outfit was perfectly pressed and hung.
What was I supposed to do now to keep from obsessing about the beautiful man who kept staring at me?
“Come out here and join me,” Vincent’s voice rang down the hall, like he could sense my stress.
He was stretched out on a hammock on the porch with his hands clasped behind his head.
I pretended to rub my eyes and gawk at him. “What? Vincent Forde knows how to kick back and relax?”
“It’s not like I have much choice,” he retorted, his voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver up my spine. “I need to embrace this whole ‘island time’ vibe if I want to get the contract signed. You should too.”
He pointed at the hammock next to his, and I gingerly started to lower myself into it. There was something about the way he watched me. Maybe it was the tropical heat, or maybe it was just him—but my heart thudded in my chest.
“Careful, they’re tippy,” Vincent said.
The warning came too late. I didn’t calculate how to counterbalance my body weight, and the thing flipped me onto my ass with a thump.
“Shit!” Vincent exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
He leaned over abruptly, and his hammock jiggled dangerously. For a split second, I was certain he was going to tumble down on top of me. I was half hoping for it.
I was facing the ground on my hands and one knee with my shoulders shaking from laughter. My other foot dangled in the air, caught in the hammock’s tassels.
“Piper?” Vincent demanded, probably because he couldn’t tell I was laughing. “Are you hurt?”
“No kidding they’re tippy,” I said through my tears of laughter.
He reached out to help me up, the heat of his body close enough to feel. When I took his hand, I gave it a yank. His hammock nearly did a three-sixty before it dumped him on the ground next to me.
“ Piper ,” he growled, flat on his ass. The way he said my name—low, almost dangerous—made my stomach flip.
I bit my lip to hold back more laughter, but the sight of him sprawled there, hair slightly mussed, had me losing it again. He tried to keep his scowl, but eventually he cracked. Vincent Forde knew how to laugh, apparently.
We finally managed to collect ourselves, still grinning like idiots. He stood up first, offering me his hand again, and when he pulled me up, he drew me so close I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, clean and woodsy and delicious.
“You’re overtired and punch drunk,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my temple. “It’s going to be a long night.”
My laughter subsided as reality hit. I glanced toward the bungalow, and there it was—a single bed down the hall.
Yup. It sure was going to be a very long night.
If I was grading our performance as a couple, I’d give us an A+. We were so adorable over dinner that even I started believing we were the real deal.
As expected, the meal was an impeccable selection of local fruits and vegetables, paired with seafood Joe told us had been caught just hours before. We were finally finishing dessert, and thanks to all the food, champagne, and jet lag, I could hardly keep my eyes open.
But I was having the best time ever.
“Before you head out for the night, I want to confirm our itinerary for tomorrow,” Jean said. “You can have breakfast whenever you like, either here in the main house or down in your bungalow. Just call the house line on the phone in your room and let our manager know your preference.”
“Then, horses at eleven,” Joe said.
Vincent flinched almost imperceptibly. “I was thinking…”
I held my breath. For my part, I was more than happy to drop the idea of riding now that I knew it was a touchy issue for Vincent, but Jean loved her itinerary. Was she going to be offended if he asked to change it?
“You might know my Piper is quite the golfer,” he continued, flashing a look at me, “and I was thinking it might be fun if the four of us went out for a quick nine holes? Assuming you still play.”
I started to say something. After all, where Vincent had baggage with horses, I had baggage with golf. Prentiss had almost ruined my love of the game. But I stopped myself. Golf was a good solution to get us away from horses. And I’d heard the courses out here were gorgeous. Did golfing have to be a bad thing? Maybe this would be a chance to reclaim the game for myself. Instead of it being a bone of contention between me and Prentiss, I could use it to help close a deal.
I met Vincent’s eyes. He was looking at me hopefully. I mustered a smile and gave him a nod. If Joe and Jean agreed to change the plans, I was on board.
Joe raised an eyebrow. “We do indeed, but Jean had her heart set on you two going out riding…”
“No, no, no,” Jean said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure we had plenty for you to do, but if you prefer golf, then golf it is. And what’s this business about nine holes? If we’re playing, we’re going for the full eighteen.”
“Guys, there’s just one problem,” I said hesitantly. “I didn’t bring golf clothes or shoes.”
“Don’t you worry,” Jean swished her hand at me. “I’ll have the club send over a few options for you. But are you sure you want us old folks joining you?”
“Of course,” Vincent insisted. “This trip isn’t just about me and Piper, it’s about our partnership.”
Jean melted, and Joe gave Vincent a nod of approval. “I like to hear that. I’m looking forward to embarrassing you on the course tomorrow.”
“Not so fast,” I said, starting to get into the spirit. “Why don’t we make this even better? Let’s switch up the teams. I’ll partner with you, Joe, and Jean can play with Vincent.”
Jean clapped her hands delightedly. “Oh, this is going to be so silly and fun!”
We finalized our timing, then Vincent and I headed back to our bungalow. I was so tired that when he took my hand, I automatically leaned against him.
“You were perfect,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
“I’d say we both were. Masterful job getting out of horseback riding, by the way.” I glanced up at him and saw that he was smiling.
“Yeah. It’s a great trade-off: more time to woo the Sullivans, and you can show off your skills.”
“You better prepare to lose,” I giggled.
“And you better prepare to eat your words,” he parried.
We walked into the bungalow, and I suddenly felt wide awake.
Because it was bedtime. One-bed-for-two-people time.
“Listen, I can sleep on the couch,” Vincent said, his voice a little too casual, as if he’d read my mind. “I don’t want to make this awkward.”
I gestured to the open air beyond it. “Are you used to sleeping outside?”
“I mean, I have ,” he shrugged. “I’ve done plenty of hardcore camping over the years. And it’s not like this would be roughing it.”
He gestured to the plush and cozy couch.
“Well…” I paused and realized, with a little flutter in my chest, that I sort of wanted him next to me. “It’s a big bed.”
He nodded. “Looks like a California king.”
“We could each have our own side,” I suggested.
My voice was steadier than my pulse.
“You sure you’re okay with it? This is probably an HR violation on some level.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a real employee,” I whispered. “Shh!”
Vincent chuckled, the sound warm and low, rolling over me like a wave. “Okay, it’s settled then. I’ll get changed and meet you, uh, I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
Vincent was overthinking the whole thing, as well. I ran to the gigantic closet the size of my room in my apartment and found one of the silk pajama sets I’d bought. This one was black, so it wouldn’t be see-through, with shorts and short sleeves so I wouldn’t be too hot.
I swiveled in the mirror to look at myself. Smooth and soft, the fabric clung to my skin just enough to feel daring. Yeah, it wasn’t lingerie, but it was still sexy.
Not that I wanted to look sexy for Vincent.
I was lying. I totally wanted to look sexy for him.
He came out of the bathroom, and we nearly ran into each other. I sucked in a breath, because his version of pajamas was just navy boxer briefs.
Vincent looked good in everything I’d ever seen him wear, but he was downright devastating when he was nearly naked. His broad shoulders and defined chest were the first things my eyes traveled over, but it was his thighs—thick, muscular—that had me swallowing hard. I couldn’t understand why so many men focused their efforts only on their upper body when there was so much to be said for a couple of muscular thighs.
Vincent cleared his throat, and I realized I was staring. My cheeks burned, and I swore the temperature in the room spiked.
“Cute pajamas,” he said, gesturing to me.
“I bought, I mean, you bought every color of the rainbow, so prepare for a show each night.”
His eyes darkened just a fraction.
“No, no, not that kind of show,” I laughed nervously. “Like, a fashion show, but it’s pajamas.”
“I’ll watch whatever you perform for me,” he said in a low, rumbly voice that made me ticklish all over.
“Ha!” I squeaked out. My laugh came out high-pitched, too eager, and I wanted to slap myself for it.
I ran over to the bed and practically dove beneath the sumptuous sheets, needing the barrier of cool fabric between us before my thoughts completely ran away from me.
Vincent turned out the overhead light, and the room went dark except for the tiny bedside lamp. I felt his side sink as he climbed in.
My breathing went shallow.
Vincent and I were now in bed . Together.
And the room felt suddenly much, much smaller.
“I want to apologize in advance,” I said as I rolled over to face him, jolting when I realized a shirtless Vincent Forde was staring at me. He was backlit by the lamp, so I couldn’t make out his expression. “I’m a restless sleeper. I might accidentally end up in your zone. If it happens, I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he replied. “I move around in my sleep, too.”
The air in the room felt heavy as we sorted through our sleep quirks. How did we end up here, exactly?
“It’s more than that, though. I might unintentionally…spoon you,” I said softly, the words catching in my throat. It was an insane thing to admit…but it was the truth. “I can’t control it.”
“Well, that won’t do at all,” Vincent murmured.
I worried I’d scared him off, and now he was going to go sleep on the couch.
“I like being the big spoon, not the little,” he continued, his eyes locking on mine, dark and unreadable, “so if it’s okay with you, let’s fix the problem before it begins.”
He reached out and gently clasped my wrist, then slid me across the bed until I was just inches away from him.
My breath hitched at the closeness, his heat washing over me.
“Are you okay being the little spoon?” he murmured.
My heart was jumping out of my chest at his nearness.
“I am.”
We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds longer as we grappled with the idea of what we were doing until I shifted onto my side and pressed back into him. Vincent draped his arm over me, and I let out a sigh at how perfect if felt to be nestled against him. The sensation of his body molding against mine was electric.
“Good night, Piper,” he whispered in my ear, the sensation of his breath against my skin sending sparklers up my spine.
I’d thought about this very sensation, hell I’d dreamed about it, yet the reality of it was even better than I’d imagined. The weight of his arm over my waist, his body pressed closed against me—everything felt so right, so perfectly aligned. I was tucked against him like my body had been crafted to fit exactly here.
“Good night, Vincent,” I whispered, my voice shaky. Speaking was the only thing grounding me in that moment.
I tried to fight off my exhaustion so I could enjoy the sensation of being pressed up against him, but it wasn’t long before sleep won out.
Best dreams ever .