Chapter Three #2
Becca (private thread): He’s FINE. I checked his arm last night and I will check it again when I see him this afternoon. Stop worrying. Put on your bikini and strut down the beach like you own it.
Me: Strut. Right. Got it.
I’ve never strutted anywhere, whereas my sexy sister has that maneuver down pat. But I do plan to spend the day down by the water.
Becca (private thread): Remember, we’re manifesting a hot guy and wild sex!
Me: As if I’d jump into bed with a guy I just met.
I send an eye roll emoji.
Becca (private thread): You only live once! Remember, NO WORK! Be safe, be dirty, and send details.
I shake my head, knowing I won’t do any of those things, but I’m smiling as I head back inside.
I grab my bags and head down a hall at the opposite end of the house from the master bedroom in search of another bedroom.
I find a second master suite, exactly like the first, save for the body wash, toiletries, and cologne, and there are beach towels on the bed. Perfect.
After unpacking, I change into my bikini and put my sketchbook, colored pencils, ereader, phone, sunscreen, and a towel in my beach bag.
I head into the kitchen to make a sandwich and snag a bottle of iced tea and a piece of fruit while I’m there.
Then I put on my sunglasses and wander down to the lounge area by the water.
As I stretch out in the sun on one of the loungers with my ereader, guilt and worry creep in. In an effort to push those unwanted companions away, I remind myself that everyone deserves a vacation and that reading and relaxing are what normal people do on vacation. Then I try to focus on my book.
Ten minutes later, my brain is still circling my father. In all of the anxiety and excitement of getting here, I forgot to make sure he took his medication. I zip off a quick text.
Me: Did you remember to take your meds?
Dad: Yes. I told you to put the phone away.
Me: Putting it away now Love you.
A red heart pops up.
My father never types out I love you. He says it sparingly, but heartfelt words are not his love language. Being a curmudgeon is.
Turning back to my book, I read the same paragraph three times before giving up.
My brain keeps darting toward home. I reach for my phone out of habit but stop myself from picking it up.
Instead, I close my eyes, focusing on the smell of the sea, the feel of the salty air on my skin, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, but I still can’t quite relax enough to enjoy it.
Most people would give anything to be lounging on a beautiful island, with no work and nobody to look after, yet here I am in paradise, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it.
I sit up and reach for the one thing that always brings me comfort. My sketchbook and colored pencils. It doesn’t take long for me to disappear into the world I’m creating.
I stay down by the water until my stomach begs to be fed. As I gather my things, I’m surprised to see it’s almost six, and I’m shocked that I haven’t heard from Seth. I usually have a full inbox by now. I guess he really meant what he said about not working this weekend.
I zip off another text to Becca to check on Dad, and her response rolls in as I’m shouldering my bag. She swears all is well and admonishes me for checking in again. She has no idea the sheer will it took me to keep from texting earlier.
Slipping my feet into my flip-flops, I put my phone in my bag and pat myself on the back for semi-relaxing. As I head up to the villa, I vow to be better at relaxing tonight.
By the time I step inside, I’ve decided on a simple dinner of cheese and crackers, a little fruit, and a glass of wine or two on the terrace as the sun goes down.
I kick off my flip-flops by the patio door and head into the kitchen for a snack to tide me over until after I shower.
I reach for a banana but stop myself. I’m on vacation.
Why not live a little? I grab a pint of chocolate ice cream and a spoon and lean against the counter to take a few bites.
Fifteen minutes later, it turns out my good intentions were no match for my taste buds.
I ate half the pint. I’m heading out of the kitchen when the front door opens.
I spin around, startled, and my lungs stall as Seth Braden walks in.
He drops a suitcase on the floor and closes the door.
Clearly not having spotted me yet, he pulls out his phone and thumbs out a message.
Shitshitshit.
I quickly and silently snag my phone from my bag and silence it as he thumbs out a text.
It’s stupid to think he’d text Taylor when he thinks Taylor is here.
My pulse skyrockets, the gravity of my predicament hitting me full-on.
Seth Braden is here, and Lord help me, he’s even more handsome in person.
He’s bigger, broader, his dark hair even thicker than it looks in pictures, his jaw stronger and scruffier.
He pockets his phone and looks around, those piercing blue eyes landing on me. I freeze like a deer in headlights. Please don’t let me look like a deer in headlights.
A warm smile curves his lips, and his gaze sweeps down the length of me.
If my heart hasn’t already forgotten how to beat, it surely will now as I remember I’m wearing nothing but my bikini, and my traitorous nipples rise to greet him.
Embarrassment burns my cheeks, despite the glow of appreciation on his face.
“Hi,” he says as if I belong there. His voice is impossibly deeper and richer than it sounds in interviews, and his eyes hold a mesmerizing glimmer of warmth and an unfair amount of seductive mystery. “I’m Seth. Is Taylor around?”
I think fast, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them. “Taylor couldn’t make it. He wasn’t feeling well. I’m his sister, Eleanor.” What the hell am I saying?
His brows lift in mild surprise, but his expression turns into one of piqued interest. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get to meet my buddy and share a few beers.”
Buddy? That’s what I am to him? A buddy in his inbox? That makes sense, since he thinks Taylor is a man, but wow does it make me feel funny for fantasizing about him.
“I hope it’s okay that he let me come,” I manage with a smile. “I assumed he’d mentioned it. He said you were going to be traveling, but I can leave—”
“No. It’s absolutely fine. I didn’t know Taylor had a sister, but I’m glad you’re here.
My afternoon meetings got cut short, so I grabbed a flight.
I probably should have texted to give him a heads-up or knocked before barging in.
Sorry about that. It all happened pretty fast.” He closes the distance between us and offers his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor.”
“You, too,” I say, as his hand engulfs mine in warmth, and he holds it a beat longer than necessary, causing my nerves to flame.
He glances around before his gaze returns to mine, careful, measured. “Are you here alone, or did you bring your husband or boyfriend?”
The question is harmless, and he didn’t ask like a man on the prowl, but that doesn’t stop my pulse from tangling with my nerves. I remind myself that this is his house, and he has a right to know who is here.
“It’s just me. Single as can be.” Single as can be? Ugh. Shoot me now.
He laughs. “Me too. Don’t worry. I won’t be in your way. I’ll grab a room at the resort for the weekend.”
I should tell him I planned to leave, pack my stuff, and head home, but when I open my mouth, “Don’t be silly.
This is your house, and it’s big enough for both of us” comes out.
I have no idea who I am right now, taking risks and living a lie, but it’s kind of freeing not to be careful, over-worrier Taylor.
“Great.” He flashes the easy smile that now feels dangerously disarming. “In that case, do you have dinner plans?”
“Not really.”
“Then let me take you out,” he says earnestly. “We can get to know each other, and you can tell me all of Taylor’s secrets.”
That’s not going to happen, but even with my nerves pinging like bees stuck in a jar, I’m enjoying pretending to be a woman not overburdened with worry too much to pull back. “Dinner sounds great, but the only way you’re getting Taylor’s secrets is if you tell me yours.”
He grins. “Now I see the family resemblance.”
“What do you mean?” I ask nervously, worried I somehow showed my hand.
“Just that your brother challenges me, too.”
Relief washes over me, but then I wonder if I’ve ever emailed or texted anything too pushy. “Bossiness runs in our family. Does that bother you? Because I can tell Taylor to back off.”
“No. T’s great. My brothers and sister give me hell all the time. I’m used to it.” He rakes a hand through his hair and says, “Well, I guess I’ll get settled in and cleaned up for dinner.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Take your time.” He heads for his bag. “No rush on my end. I’ve got some work to take care of before we leave, anyway.”
As he heads down the hall toward the master bedroom, I cringe inwardly, remembering that I sprayed his cologne on my wrist, and hope he didn’t smell it on me. When I hear his bedroom door close, the air rushes from my lungs like I’ve been holding my breath, and I feel like I have.
I definitely should have stayed home. Being trapped in paradise with Seth Braden is an unfair temptation. One that apparently has the power to chip away at the armor I’ve worn since I was left at the altar.
Temptation that hot should be illegal.