Chapter 6
Sebastian
I GOT TO THE INN A few minutes before nine, just in time for the site walk with the contractor and the structural engineer he brought in. I’d spent the night at my parents’ place, and my mother made enough coffee to last a much longer drive, but traffic turned out to be sane that morning.
Ruby was already outside, planner and phone in hand, dressed in full inn-manager mode—white sleeveless top, black skirt that reached mid-calf, black sandals with just enough heel to make her legs look even longer than they were.
Her blonde curls were loose, her blue eyes sharp. She was in charge. In her element. In full Ruby mode.
It hit me. Always did.
There was something about her, that perfect mix of a damn good businesswoman, capable and courageous, level-headed—and a warm, witty, sensitive, and loyal woman.
Yes, loyal. To her friends, her family, her staff. And to her belief that all we could ever be was friends who fuck.
She gave me a quick nod through the windshield while I parked just outside the main entrance, then the flicker of a smile. I had to stop myself from reaching for her the moment I got out of the car.
This is a place of business, I could already hear her say in my head.
We spent an hour walking the grounds, checking the damage, tossing around options.
The engineer and I drifted into a back-and-forth about cross-laminated timber versus steel supports, getting deeper than we needed to.
Ruby let us have our moment before cutting in with, “Save the pillow talk for later, boys.”
“He’s a better option,” I said under my breath as we trailed behind the contractor and the engineer. “Assuming he”—I nodded in Dave’s direction—“lets the guy do his job properly. Contractors aren’t always ... engineer-friendly.”
Ruby’s lips curved. “Look at you, still recruiting for The Dork Side.”
“The Force Alliance, you mean.” I grinned.
“Sure,” she replied teasingly, her eyes glinting.
It was simple, familiar banter. We’d always traded jokes about orbital mechanics versus ice machine malfunctions, but this—working side by side—this was new. And it lit up something inside me that I couldn’t ignore.
They negotiated and signed the paperwork, and the crew promised to start the next day. After we escorted them outside, we returned to Ruby’s office in the main building.
“I’ve got a staff meeting in two hours,” she said as we stood outside the door. “I have to break it to eight people that we might not have enough work to keep everyone. I’ll need to let the temp staff go earlier than usual. God, I’m nervous.” She bit the side of her lower lip.
Terrible timing for my cock to twitch at the sight.
“You were amazing negotiating just now. Seriously. Amazing. You’ll be okay,” I said. “You still have to reach out to the guests who already booked. They might stay loyal.”
“We’ve got three regulars on the calendar. I really hope they don’t cancel. They’ve been coming here every year.”
“I have a feeling they’ll stay,” I said.
She didn’t answer. Just exhaled and glanced toward her office door.
“Come on,” I said quietly, brushing my hand against hers. “Ten minutes.”
She didn’t ask what I meant. Just unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The office was quiet, the sun filtering through the blinds onto a mahogany desk and a pale blue couch I knew from experience was very comfy. Ruby’s organized chaos of sticky notes and color-coded to-do lists hung on a board on the wall.
She dropped her planner on the desk next to her laptop but remained standing, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders tight.
I came up to her and let my hands slide to her hips, just resting there. “You’re allowed to need something, too,” I said, my voice low.
She leaned forward into me. Just a little.
I slid one hand down her thigh, then up again under the hem of her skirt, grazing her warm skin all the way up.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t stop me, didn’t say a word as I found the waistband of her panties and eased it down. She braced herself against the desk, head tipped toward my chest, her curls falling like a curtain to hide her face.
When I touched her, she was already there for me. Warm. Ready. Wanting. Wet.
I didn’t rush it. I touched her the way I fixed things—methodically, thoroughly.
She gasped, one hand fisting the edge of the desk, the other grappling my shoulder.
I lowered my face onto her head, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. It was a mix of the million products she kept in her shower and the honeysuckle from the inn garden. A blend that was her.
When she came, quiet but fierce, I tightened my arms around her and held her against me.
She melted into me, her tension easing, her breath slowing against my chest. But then she straightened, tugged her skirt back down, and looked up at me like nothing had happened.
Back to business as usual. Except for the fact that her eyes were still hazy, and the furrow between her eyebrows was gone.
“Good thing I’m done dealing with bridezillas and their desperate wedding planners. I don’t have any events booked, so no cancellations there,” she said, almost matter-of-fact, a hint of her usual smile forming on her lips.
Nope.
I brought a hand up, held her chin between my fingers, and tipped her head up to mine. I then kissed her, long and deep and slow, my palms framing her face, knowing full well that I was throwing her off-balance again.
Good.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were still closed.
Mission accomplished. Somehow, I couldn’t let Ruby go from intimate to business as usual, even though I knew what we were.
I brushed a thumb along her jaw, leaned in, and pressed my lips to her forehead. Then I stepped back. “So the events front’s safe,” I said. I could pretend as well—pick up the conversation like nothing happened.
She opened her eyes, her head still tipped back even though my hands weren’t holding it anymore, and blinked at me.
She then collected herself and continued like she hadn’t just melted against me a second time.
“The money’s not worth the headache,” she said, smoothing a hand over her curls like she was checking for ruffled armor.
Her voice was casual, but her body gave her away—she still needed a moment to let the wave wash through her.
“You might want to wash that side of your face before you go in,” I said, nodding toward the cheek my damp hand—still smelling of her—had cupped.
She reached up and touched it.
I could tell she was still feeling the aftershock of the kiss. Part of me wished she didn’t have to pull herself together so fast—didn’t have to rush back to being “fine.”
A folder labeled Maintenance Priorities sat on the desk beside us.
The irony didn’t escape me, maybe not her either, because she removed her hand and hurried to add, “Rio and Owen want to have their wedding here, like her brother did back in the day. Told her she’s an exception I’d gladly make.
But they haven’t set a date yet. Too busy shagging and being all mushy with each other. ”
I smiled at her use of shagging—a nod to Owen’s British roots. I didn’t know the guy, but she’d told me about him. It was the mushy part that got to me. The everyday sweetness couples had. The ease of knowing they belonged together.
That was something I used to think I didn’t want.
But it gnawed more than I wanted it to. Like it had in the last couple of years.