CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Callahan
With my hoodie on and pulled down over my forehead, I keep to my space in the corner of the resort’s gym. The staff trainers mill around waiting for guests to come in and work out, but the last thing I need or want is them training me.
Or kissing my ass once they realize who I am.
So I stay to my corner, wiping down the bench and replacing the dumbbells to their correct location after every use. My shoulders ache and my chest muscles burn with the satisfaction of a good workout.
I pushed myself harder today than normal.
Frustrated with a check-in call from Ford where my every move was questioned.
Pissed off over Solomon’s mention of Gia the other day.
His words were a punch to the gut to remind me of the man I really am.
The one who prioritized pussy over family, nameless sex over integrity, and playtime over worktime.
It was a blatant reminder that Sutton doesn’t need my shit.
She was right to demand more than another night of mindless fucking.
And then there’s Sutton herself. How I let my guard down the other night when that’s not something I do. Ever. But there I was lying in the bed beside her letting her know about shit I’ve kept locked tight for years.
Shit that is no one’s business, let alone a woman I’m trying to sleep with.
And yet I fucking told her a majority of it.
You’d at least think I’d get laid as a reward. I mean, a man has to have his own lines he draws, right?
But I didn’t.
We didn’t.
And yet, while I’m more than sexually frustrated, there must be something fucking wrong with me when I say the woman can kiss. And can kiss in a way that makes every damn bone in your body want her but be satisfied with not getting more.
This is becoming a problem.
A huge fucking problem.
And not because she’s holding out, but because she’s the only goddamn thing I want. Hell, I was all but propositioned last night after my meeting with a distributor and it held no appeal.
None.
I looked at the highly attractive woman with her come-fuck-me eyes and told her I don’t mix business with pleasure.
The irony.
Because all I wanted to do was go back to the villa and do just that. But when I got to the villa and walked in, Sutton was sound asleep on the couch. She was sprawled out, mouth open, pajamas askew, hair a mess, and I just stood there and stared at her. Stared and wanted and wondered.
There was no regret going home to that instead of taking up the offer given by a woman whose name I can’t even remember.
Sutton has broken my libido.
Goddamn broken it so that all I want is her.
How fucking fair is that?
To want a woman who I don’t deserve but crave nonetheless?
It’s going to be a long few weeks. Fucking torturous.
I grab a heavier dumbbell. Anything to push her out of my mind even if for a few fucking minutes.
“Have you seen the new chick?”
I glance up to see two of the staff members walk in from the back. They have stacks of towels in their hands that they must be resupplying.
“Which one?” the blond-haired guy says.
“Dark hair. Nice rack. Legs for days,” the dark-haired one says.
“You need to be a little more specific than that.” Blond one laughs.
“She’s management, I think. Here for a couple of months to fix shit and fire people,” Dark Hair says, causing me to pause mid bicep curl. Sutton.
She’s fucking everywhere.
“We could def use some shit fixed around here, and I’d be more than happy to see a few of the annoying peeps go too.” Blond guy laughs.
“She could fire me all she wants so long as she gives me a few parting gifts on the way out the door.”
“I bet she’s wild in the sack,” Blond says. “Those reserved, prissy ones always are.”
Dark Hair playfully shoves Blond and says, “I’ll let you know when I’m finished with her.”
I drop the weight with a thud on the mat, both employees glance in my direction, but keep talking about things they want to do to Sutton.
My blood boils.
I pull my hood off my head and walk toward them. Dark Hair sees me first and the next crass comment on his tongue dies when my eyes meet his, and I give him the best fuck you smile I can muster through my fury.
“Can I help you?” he asks as Blond turns around and sucks in a startled breath.
So he was the one who paid attention at the company-wide meeting we had the other day.
“Gentlemen.” I meet both of their eyes and don’t miss the nudge Blond gives Dark Hair.
“Mr. Sharpe. Hi. We—we were just—”
“Saying things you shouldn’t be saying in front of your boss, let alone guests here who are trying to enjoy their vacation. It’s unprofessional, don’t you think?” I cross my arms over my chest to prevent me from reaching out and wringing both of their necks.
“We weren’t—You misheard—”
“No. I didn’t. I’m well aware of what I heard.”
“I’m sorry, but you know how it is when guys talk,” Dark Hair says, trying to act like because we’re both men, I’ll be fine with him bragging about wanting to fuck Sutton.
Not on his life.
“When guys talk, hmm?” I ask and angle my head to the side to freeze him into wishing he hadn’t just said those words. “Is that what this was? Two guys talking about how they’d like to fuck their superior?” I lift a brow. “Sounds to me like two guys about to get fired.”
“Fuck,” Dark Hair groans like the immature prick I’m certain he is.
“Seriously?” Blond asks.
I look from one to the other and back, remembering how many times Ford and Ledge and I would talk like this—still do at times—but for some reason this time it hits me differently.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s already associated with someone much higher on the pay scale than you. Furthermore, conversations about how exactly you want to tap her—or any other woman for that matter—especially on company time, will result in dismissal. Have I made myself clear?”
I stride out the doors without looking back because I’m proud of myself for showing restraint I don’t believe those two little fuckers deserve.
Talking like that about Sutton. Fucking hell.
It’s like after the other night, I feel this strange sense of protection over her now. I’m not sure why or how or what the hell is wrong with me, but I do.
And I fucking hate it.
I don’t even know who I am right now.
You’re just occupying your time, Callahan.
You were being a decent human standing up for another human because maybe, after all the shit that’s gone on, you feel the need to.
You’re bending, Cal, not begging.
I don’t like any of this. Not one bit.
Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s already associated with someone much higher on the pay scale than you.
Good God.
I wander down a path to the beach and then back toward the villas and then back toward the office, suddenly uncertain about everything when I’m not an uncertain guy. Ever.
My every instinct says to pack my shit up and go. To walk the fuck away and go back to being a nomad like I was for the six months after my father’s passing. There was freedom to it. Simplicity.
And now everything just feels complicated.
“Fuck,” I bark out to no one in particular.
I can’t go.
I have to stay and finish what I set out to do to honor my dad. Who am I if I can’t at least do that for the man who gave me everything?
Fucking emotions.
The ones I feel that are unresolved over my father’s death and the ones that being around Sutton have drummed up.
I should go to the office and work. Run over the latest cost estimates that came in this afternoon to see if any of this nonstop dinner-meeting-bullshit is even worth it.
Restless, I head in that direction, but when I get there and see all the lights off, the thought of the solitude I normally love doesn’t sound so appealing.
You’re all screwed up, Sharpe. Since when do you not love your solitude?
I know the answer, but don’t want to admit it to myself.
Ever since I’ve shared the space with Sutton. The quiet humming in her bedroom to whatever music is on her earbuds. The soft clatter of dishes in the sink late at night. The muted sound of the television as she laughs at something on the rare occasion she watches it.
This is fucking stupid. How are you used to something you don’t actively participate in, Cal? Huh?
Keone.
He’s the answer. I’ll visit him, indulge in his quick wit. He’ll keep serving me drink after drink until all this fucking noise in my head abates, and I can think straight again.
With a sigh, I turn a corner on the path toward the bar and run into Sutton. We both make garbled yelps. But it’s only when she steps back that I notice the skirt that’s too short and a shirt that’s too tight and, fuck, I love everything about it.
So much for steering clear of her.
“And you’re going where?” I ask.
“To item number eight on my top-ten list.” Her smile is quick and disarming.
“What is number eight?”
The smile crawls over her lips. “Singles night at Isla del Mar.”
Like that? Over my dead body.
“I’m pretty sure I told you that you weren’t going.”
“And I’m pretty sure I told you that no one tells me what to do.
” She shrugs unapologetically while I hear the trainers’ comments from the gym earlier today.
“Besides, you’ve been avoiding me for some reason or another.
Gia says hi,” she mimics Solomon in a way that completely throws me off guard.
“What do you care if I go dance and have fun?”
“You’re jealous?”
“I am not. You’re just being a jerk.”
“You’re not going, Sutton.”
She takes a step forward, her eyes darting around while the darkness plays shadows over her face.
Her voice is low when she speaks. “The whole dominant thing? That only works with me in the bedroom.” She pokes me in the chest and I chuckle, her determination and temper totally sexy.
“And since it’s clear we’re not there nor will we be anytime soon, then it seems you can’t exactly tell me what I can and cannot do. ”
There’s that moxie of hers I love. Christ, it gets me hard.
“I’m your boss.”
“Correction. I’m your consultant. We work for each other, with each other, and—”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“The whole boss, employee, we can’t sleep together theory.
You just said it yourself. That we work with each other, not you for me.
So if that doesn’t hold water, then perhaps the what do I get out of this doesn’t hold any either.
” I cross my arms over my chest and smile slowly.
“Seems to me you just like playing hard to get.”
“And it seems to me you haven’t figured out the answer to the question.”
I want to kiss her. I want to pull her to me by the back of the neck and taste those lips of hers. But the guests and staff milling about in my periphery tell me I can’t.
Her eyes hold mine and the look in them says she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“You’re not going. How’s that for an answer?”
“Why not? Because you know what you think when you walk into a club? The things you want to do to the woman you set your sights on and the end result you’re aiming for?
” She lifts her eyebrows and chuckles. “I’m off the clock, Sharpe.
And when I’m off the clock, you don’t get to say what I can or can’t do. ”
Motherfucker.
She’s going anyway. She’s going and every man in that place is going to want what I can’t have.
Can I hope she kept at least one pair of granny panties and she’s chosen to wear them tonight? Can I at least have that?
But one more look at her tiny, tight skirt and I know there is no way in hell she has them on.
Christ. At this moment, I’m just praying she came to her senses and has something on underneath.
“You’re wondering, aren’t you?” she asks with a smirk, her gaze following mine, which clearly isn’t hiding my thoughts.
“I gave them back to you.”
“You did. I’ll grant you that, but I also told you I wasn’t going to wear them simply to drive you crazy.”
“Sutton,” I growl, my jaw clenched in frustration.
“Do I, or don’t I? That’s the big question.”
“This isn’t funny.” I reach out to touch her and she takes a step back, one eyebrow quirked and her eyes darting around to see if anyone is paying attention.
“This thing you’re feeling? It’s called sexual frustration, Callahan. It manifests itself in sudden outbursts or claims over a person when you have no right making them.” She steps into me and whispers, “It’s also hot as fucking hell. See you later.”
She holds her hand up and wiggles her fingers in a wave as she starts to walk away.
“A date.”
Why didn’t I think of that sooner?
“What?” She looks over her shoulder.
“A date. That’s the answer, right? You want the wine and dine before the sixty-nine part?”
“That never hurts—making the woman feel like more than just your fuck toy is always a good thing, but sorry, it’s not the answer. You might need to take care of that inside.” She motions to my semi pressing against the seam of my pants. “Don’t wait up.”
And then she turns on her heel and walks into the darkness.
Oh yeah, she’s definitely playing with fire.