Chapter 17
Jase
By the time New Year’s Eve finally arrived, the island routine had set in.
Every day, we slept late, had coffee and breakfast on the patio, put in an hour at the gym so Dylan and I wouldn’t show up to spring training soft, then spent the afternoon at the pool or on the beach before wandering back to the villa for snacks, dinner, and sex until we passed out.
Not a bad way to wrap up the year.
Dylan and I finished our workout and walked back toward the kitchen with towels hung around our necks and our shirts sticking to our backs.
“I’m voting we stay in tonight.” He blew out a breath. “We’ve got cold beer, a pool, and the hottest girl we’ve ever seen in a bikini. Why go out?”
I dug through the kitchen cabinet for a snack. “We’re going out. We promised her.”
He groaned. “We promised her a good New Year’s Eve. We can kiss her at midnight, do a little bump-and-grind of our own, and call it a win.”
“We told her we’d take her into town again,” I reminded him. “I want one more night out with her before this trip’s over.”
He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “You’re really making it hard to be lazy.”
“You’ll live. You can nap tomorrow.” I popped a chip into my mouth.
The bedroom door opened, and Faye padded out barefoot in a soft romper, her hair up in a knot, phone in hand. “What are you two arguing about?”
“Whether we’re going out,” Dylan answered. “I’m trying to tell him the bed is right there.”
She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet under her. “We’ve spent most of this week either naked or horizontal, or both.”
“I see nothing wrong with that,” Dylan replied.
“I’m not complaining,” she added with a small smile. “But I want to see what New Year’s Eve looks like here at least once.”
“There you go,” I told him.
She looked at me. “Do you want to go?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “I want to take you out. One more night just for us before we all go back to real life.”
She frowned. “Don’t mention real life.”
“I know.” I headed to the couch and sat next to her. “It’s going to fucking suck, and that’s why we should go out and have the best New Year’s ever.”
“I just hope we don’t see Callum again.”
Dylan leaned over the back of the couch, between us. “If we do, I’ll kick his ass.”
Faye looked over her shoulder at him. “Not sure how that will go over with my father once he hears.”
“If he shows up, we’ll come back here and do what Dylan wants to do,” I countered.
“Isn’t that how the night is going to end anyway?” She smirked.
“Damn right, Princess.” Dylan slapped the couch with his hand and rose to his feet.
Faye giggled. “So, what time are we planning to leave?”
“Around seven,” I said. “We can grab dinner, then find a place to dance and ring in the new year.”
Dylan groaned. “Fine. I’ll rally for you, but not for him.”
“You love me.” I winked.
“Unfortunately,” he retorted.
Faye nudged my leg with her knee. “I’m calling the shower first. If one of you touches the hot water before I’m done, I’ll lock you out of the bedroom tonight.
” She pushed up from the couch and headed for the bedroom.
The romper was short enough that each step showed more of her legs, and my brain stopped for a second.
Dylan watched too. “Was I really complaining about going out with her on our arms?”
“Yeah, you’re an idiot,” I answered.
He snorted. “Shut up.”
By the time we finished our showers and figured out what to wear, the sky outside the bedroom window had darkened, and the lights around the pool were on. I pulled on a dark green T-shirt that fit snug across my broad chest and a pair of khaki shorts.
Dylan leaned against the dresser, watching. He wore a blue T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and gray shorts.
“You fix your hair one more time, and I’m throwing your brush in the pool,” he commented.
“You’re very dramatic.” My dark hair was doing its usual thing, with the waves refusing to lie flat no matter how many times I dragged my hand through it.
“You look good. It’s fine.”
I caught his reflection in the mirror. His gaze slid down my chest and over my stomach before he blinked and looked away too quickly.
“You want a picture?” I teased.
He snorted. “Relax, Matthewson. I’m just making sure you’re not going to embarrass us.”
“Sure,” I replied, even though the look lingered in the back of my mind.
He pushed off the dresser and dropped onto the bed. “You keep thinking about when we leave here?”
“I keep counting the days,” I admitted. “How many do we have left here? How long until everything goes back to real life?”
“Same,” he replied. “Which is why tonight needs to be fun as hell.”
Heels clicked in the hallway outside the bathroom Faye had been using. “You two ready?”
We both turned.
She stood there wearing a red dress in a floral print of scattered flowers in a deeper scarlet.
It had thin straps and was fitted through the bodice, with a skirt that fell in soft layers high on her thighs.
Her hair fell in loose blond waves around her shoulders.
Gold hoops glinted at her ears, and nude sandals made her legs look even longer.
I struggled to breathe.
“You hate it,” she blurted. “I knew I should’ve worn the black one.”
“No,” I answered quickly. “You look insane.”
“In the best way,” Dylan added, sitting up. “Good thing you’re with us, because I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone who thinks they can touch you.”
Her fingers skimmed the skirt. “Do you think I’m overdressed?”
“Not at all,” I told her.
She smiled. “Okay.”
We took a taxi to the restaurant I’d found online. The night air wrapped around us as we stepped out of the cab, warm and thick and salty. Path lights glowed along the stone walkway, and the sound of waves carried up from the beach.
Faye walked between us, and her fingers slid into mine. On her other side, Dylan rested his palm on the small of her back.
“This doesn’t feel real,” she admitted. “Every New Year’s I can remember, I’ve been freezing my ass off either in Boston or D.C. in some dress I didn’t pick.”
“You picked this one,” I reminded her.
“And you’re with us,” Dylan added. “A huge upgrade.”
She smiled. “Biggest upgrade.”
“Okay,” Dylan boomed. “New-year rules. No talking about the calendar. No saying the word January. No worrying about being adults until tomorrow.”
“Agreed,” Faye replied.
I raised a brow. “You’re going to last five whole hours without stressing?”
“I’m going to try,” she answered. “If I start spiraling, distract me.”
“We’re pretty good at that,” Dylan said.
She glanced between us. “I’ve noticed.”
We walked into the Lumberyard lot, where the restaurant was located. Cars filled most of the spaces, but the far side opened to a rail that looked over the bay.
“There.” Faye pointed ahead.
The dinner spot sat at the end of the lot. A food truck was permanently parked beside an open deck lined with tables and a small bar. String lights ran from the truck out over the seating area. Past the rail, boats bobbed in Cruz Bay, the dark water streaked with light from town.
Dylan stared. “This is it?”
“This is it,” I confirmed, holding up my phone showing the confirmation screen.
Faye’s gaze shifted from the truck to the deck and the view. “Okay, this is really cool. A parking-lot food truck with a view.”
A small podium sat at the bottom of the deck’s steps. A woman in a black polo looked up from her tablet. “Hi. Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I stepped up. “Matthewson for three.”
She checked the screen and nodded. “Got you. Happy New Year. You can grab any open table with the reserved sign flipped up. Menus are there. You order food at the truck window, and the bar serves drinks. You can close out your tab with the bartender before you leave.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We stepped onto the deck and found a small table near the rail, with three chairs and a clear view of the bay. Plastic menus sat in the middle, listing starters, mains, and desserts that were prepared in the food truck.
“This is perfect,” Faye decided as she sat. “Casual yet still kind of special.”
“I like it,” I agreed, and I was happy that the president’s daughter approved.
“Ten out of ten,” Dylan put in, as he dragged his chair out. “All my fine dining should come from a truck.”
We skimmed the menu.
“Share some appetizers?” I asked.
“Obviously,” she answered.
We picked a couple of starters and three mains, then I headed over to the truck window to order while Dylan went to the bar to get our drinks. A few people stood in line in front of me, studying the chalkboard that listed the night’s specials.
When it was my turn, I stepped up to the window. “Hey. Can I get an order of the oxtail appetizer, the fish, the pork, and the veggie plate?”
The guy at the window tapped it into the screen. “Got it. Here’s your number, and we’ll bring it out when it’s ready.” He handed me a small table number to keep propped up. “You’re all set.”
“You did good, J.” Faye smiled as I returned to my seat. “This beats those stuffy dinners I’ve had at the White House.”
“I can pick a place,” I replied.
“Sometimes that place has smoke alarms that go off mid-meal,” Dylan teased, putting our drinks down in front of us.
“That happened once.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled at the memory.
Faye’s brows lifted. “Okay, I need to hear this story.”
Dylan leaned back in his chair. “He found this new spot in downtown LA our last year at UCLA. The kitchen opened into the dining room, so you could see the cooks working the burners. Every so often, a pan flared when they added something, and everyone near us watched.”
“The food was good,” I cut in.
“It was,” he agreed. “We got our steaks, and everything tasted insane. Then one of the pans on the line flared a little too hard. Smoke hit the ceiling fast, the alarms started screaming, and before anyone could do much, the sprinklers kicked on.”
Faye’s eyes widened. “In the dining room?”