Chapter 12
TWELVE
Owen
Bottles of rum cover the wooden table like trophies.
Some are clear, while the rest range from amber to dark as maple syrup. The bottles are lined up in scattered rows, the sun-faded labels peeling like they’ve seen one too many summers.
Shoved right into the sand beside the table is a hand-painted sign that reads: Bambarra Rum Tasting. Try the Island Favorites!
In front of the sign stands a cooler full of ice, a stack of tiny plastic cups, and a woman in a neon Costa Cay T-shirt, here to host the rum tasting event.
The sun hangs high and relentlessly overhead, bathing the beach in rays of gold.
Beyond the mismatched bottles of rum lies the ocean, spreading wide in every shade of blue imaginable—turquoise near the shore and deep sapphire farther out.
Soft waves roll in, slow and unhurried, while vacationers drift through the shallows as if they haven’t got a single worry in the world.
It’s a beautiful day, easily the best weather we’ve had since we got here.
But fuck.
Nothing compares to how my morning started.
Seeing Meadow naked in the shower—even with her arms crossed over herself, trying to cover up—just about sent me over the fucking edge.
I was the one who suggested we attend the rum tasting today, hoping like hell it would help get the visual of her out of my head.
But it won’t.
I know it won’t.
It’s seared into my brain forever.
I didn’t want to wake Meadow by knocking, so I just cracked the bedroom door and peeked inside to find it pitch black and quiet. I was sure that she was asleep.
I remember standing there for a beat, peering into the dark, half-conscious and still foggy from sleep, trying to decide if I was even alive enough for a run yet.
I don’t remember seeing any light under the bathroom door. Don’t remember noticing if it was shut or open. I was still waking up, which is why I needed a cold shower.
My brain was still offline as my body moved into her room.
When I stepped into the bathroom, assuming it was empty, I shut the door behind me and went about my business. Completely unaware that Meadow was stripped down in the shower.
The water wasn’t even on yet.
God, I hope she believed me because I truly had no fucking clue.
When I opened the shower door, it was like I’d stepped straight into my own personal wet dream. Then the back of my head smacked against the glass, and just like that, I was wide awake.
This wasn’t a fantasy.
This was very, very real.
I’d never felt my cock spring to life as fast as it did when I laid eyes on Meadow’s bare skin. I tried to quickly cover my growing boner with my hands, but I’m sure it was too late.
It’s hard enough to hide how my body reacts to Meadow with her clothes on, so you can only imagine how impossible it was for me to stop myself from pinning her against the shower wall.
Her hair was a mess from sleep, dark and wavy around her shoulders like she’d just rolled out of bed.
Fucking hell.
It might have been the most stunned I’ve ever been by her.
She looked so… soft, unfiltered, untouched. No makeup or beauty products—just Meadow. Raw, bare, and so damn perfect.
Her cheeks flushed to a deep pink as her plump lips parted in shock. I couldn't help but skim my gaze down her creamy skin, finding her arms crossed over her chest, trying to hide her pillowy breasts that looked so supple and round.
I should have stopped.
I should have forced my eyes to give up their pursuit. Instead, I threw my sanity out the window and lowered my gaze.
My throat went dry as I slid my eyes down her toned stomach, the faintest lines of muscle flexing when she sucked in a breath.
And when I finally got a few inches lower… Fuck me.
Her delicate fingers trembled as she covered her cunt, nerves written all over her body, like she didn’t know whether to be turned on or scream at me.
I wasn’t able to see much, but from what I could see, she was bare. Shaved and barely hidden beneath the cracks of her fingers, probably already wet behind her hand.
God, what I would give to have just one taste of her. I already know that I would be hooked from the first lick. I would be a man obsessed.
By the time my eyes roamed over the silky skin of her thighs, I was fucking done for. My cock was literally leaking behind my hand.
It was one of the hottest moments of my life.
If I hadn't barged in like a fucking creep and made the whole thing weird, I would have tried to stay a minute longer. Play with the tension that’s been brewing since the night we almost kissed in the pool.
But when Meadow screamed my name like she’d seen a serial killer, that saved me from completely losing my mind.
I can’t even let myself think about the couple of seconds where her eyes dropped, her breath hitching as she also took me in.
If I try to analyze that too hard, I’ll end up spiraling.
“Alright, party people!”
The sudden shout yanks me out of my head. I blink, refocusing.
The event host stands behind the table, clapping her hands together and pressing play on the speaker in front of her. Temperature by Sean Paul starts blaring from the long table.
Oh shit.
Party mode: activated.
“Each person gets five shots!” she calls out over the music. “So grab a cup, get in line, and choose wisely which rums you’d like to try!”
The mellow beach vibe instantly shifts from easygoing to loud and wild. People start laughing, shuffling forward, and grabbing cups.
“Five?” Meadow mutters, arms folded over her chest as she stares at the bottles. “Damn.”
I glance over at her, admiring how sexy she looks today in her high-waisted denim shorts and a bikini top. Her hair’s pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands falling around her face, her cheeks and nose pink from the sun.
Meanwhile, I threw on a T-shirt with my swimtrunks, already cooked from a couple of days in the sun. This Caribbean heat is no joke.
“What?” I nudge her shoulder with mine. “You can’t handle five shots?”
She scoffs as if she’s personally offended, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I can,” she defends. “It just seems like a lot.”
“A lot?” I echo.
She gestures vaguely at the table. “Before lunch? Yeah, feels a little much.”
I huff out a laugh.
“We’ll see about that,” I tease. “Pretty sure you’ll be feeling it after number three.”
She arches a brow. “Is that a challenge, Brooks?”
“It’s a fact.”
She narrows her eyes to little slits but can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I jerk my head toward the growing line. “C’mon. Let’s get in line before the good stuff’s gone.”
She bumps her hip into mine as we walk toward the cups.
“You carrying me back to the room if I fall over?”
I smirk.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” I reply, my tone cocky. “Only I get the honor of carrying my drunken wife back to the room.”
Her steps falter as the word wife leaves my mouth. Her eyes flick up to mine, wide for a moment before she rolls them, trying her best to act unaffected.
“Don’t start,” she quips, playfully shoving my arm. “It’s too early.”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Brooks .”
This time, instead of rolling those doe eyes, she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, trying like hell to fight the smile she doesn't want me to see.
Shot One
The first bottle we choose from is clear as water but seems to be a crowd favorite.
The host pours a shot into each of our tiny cups and slides them across the table.
“Starting light?” she says brightly. “Good idea. This one’s smooth.”
We grin and thank the host before stepping aside.
“It literally looks like water,” Meadow mutters, holding the shot up to her eyes and squinting.
“That’s how they get you,” I reply. “Before you know it, you’ll be on your ass.”
She arches a brow, tossing me a smug grin.
“Or you’ll be on your ass,” she taunts. “Bottoms up, Brooks.”
I hold her stare as she lifts her shot toward me and we clink our cups together.
“Here’s to getting fucked up in paradise while our managers freeze their asses off back in that sad Chicago office,” I toast.
Meadow snorts before we throw our shots back at the same time.
We both make the exact same face, scrunching our noses as if the liquor punched us right in the throat.
Meadow coughs immediately, eyes watering as she stares down at the now-empty glass.
“Okay, wow,” she rasps. “That really is—”
“Smooth?” I finish for her.
She blinks, surprised. “Honestly, yeah. Not bad.”
I lift my pinky and hold my cup out like I’m at high tea.
“I’m getting notes of... oak,” I say in a serious but humorous tone.
“Oh my God, Owen,” Meadow groans, already laughing. “Stop.”
“Hints of caramel. A whisper of spice,” I continue in a fake posh accent.
“You are ridiculous,” she chuckles. “You drink beer out of a can and have whiskey occasionally.”
“Classy men contain multitudes, Meadow,” I joke, nodding sagely. “Perhaps you should try getting cultured like me.”
She stares at me for a long second before shaking her head.
“Yeah,” she says, looking back toward the table. “I’m gonna need shot two. Immediately.”
Shot Two
We knock back the second shot without a hitch, feeling a bit looser this time around.
After choosing a darker rum, the burn hits faster this time, warmth spreading from my throat to my chest.
Meadow coughs once, then laughs under her breath, shaking it off like she’s tougher than that.
God, she’s so fucking cute.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and side-eyes me.
“So...” she says casually.
“So?” I repeat.
“You gonna pretend you didn’t totally stare this morning?”
Ah, she’s feeling bold after shot number two.
I blink, acting like I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“What?”
“In the shower, Owen. You definitely looked.”
I can’t help the devious grin that curves the corner of my mouth.
The music’s louder now, the bass thumping through the sand, so I lean in close where she can hear me.
“You gonna act like you didn’t look too?” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
She stills, then swallows thickly.