Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sienna
When Milo and I step onto the beach for the welcome dinner, my smile instantly widens as I spot my parents.
Mom’s wearing her neon-orange maxi dress, which she only pulls out for her tropical vacations, her gray-blond hair swept into a loose bun at her nape.
She’s laughing at whatever Dad just said—probably one of his terrible dad jokes—while he’s in the same white linen shirt and khaki shorts he’s worn every vacation since I was ten, that battered straw fedora cocked at the exact wrong angle.
They’re standing by a long wooden table set for eight, already surrounded by my twin sister Aria and her fiancé, Ethan, along with his parents, Lillian and Tom.
I’ve known the Coles since Ethan started dating Aria six years ago, when he kept showing up at our shared college apartment, pretending he was in the area, though he really just wanted an excuse to stare at Aria like she hung the moon.
Mom spots me first, her smile infectious as she calls out my name.
I jog the last few steps, my sandals kicking up sand.
She opens her arms, and I crash into them.
I catch the orchid in her perfume as she hugs me tight.
Then she pulls back and kisses both my cheeks the way she’s done since I could roll my eyes at it.
“You’re glowing already, honey,” she smiles, cupping my face. “Tropical air or just happy to see your ancient parents?”
“Both,” I reply, kissing her cheek. “Mostly you, though.”
Dad wraps me in a bear hug that lifts me an inch off the sand. “There’s my wild one. Plane treat you okay?”
“Mostly,” I murmur against his cheek. “You’re still wearing that hat? It’s literally older than me.”
“Older and wiser,” he grins, tugging the brim with mock solemnity. “Like its owner.”
Before I can respond, Aria comes barreling toward me and crushes me into a hug so fierce I briefly lose the ability to breathe. “My other half. My best friend. My womb-sharer!” She peppers my face with kisses. “I’m so happy you’re here I could cry.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I whisper against her ear. “Though nothing will ever top that time in senior year when you—”
Her hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me. “We are not telling that story tonight. Or ever.”
“But—”
“Sienna.”
“Fine,” I pout dramatically and cross my arms over my chest. “Whatever the beautiful bride-to-be wants, she gets… I guess.”
Ethan steps up behind her, shaking his head with that golden retriever grin, then his eyes slide past me and widen. “Milo? You two walked in together?”
Aria peers over my shoulder and finally notices the tall, unfairly composed shadow behind me. “Wait—Sienna, you know Milo?”
“Yeah,” I say casually as I walk up to him and loop my arm through his. My head rests on his shoulder. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Aria and Ethan both freeze, their eyes bulging and mouths dropping open in perfect synchronization. I let the shocked silence hang for a few more seconds before laughter bubbles up from my chest.
“I’m just kidding,” I laugh, waving them off as I step away from Milo. “The airline decided we should bond over water, and then the resort decided we should bond over square footage for the next fourteen days.”
Ethan’s jaw drops. “You’re in the same villa?”
Aria gasps so loud the nearby server startles. “What?”
Milo steps forward, calm as ever, and offers the group a polite smile. “Double-booked. The resort is full. Two bedrooms, separate bathrooms. We’re… managing.”
Aria’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry! The coordinator swore—”
“It’s not on you,” Milo says quickly, his voice smooth and reassuring. “Resort glitch. They’re comping breakfast, spa credits, and excursions. We’ll survive.”
I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head at him. “Speak for yourself. I’m already plotting how to frame him for my murder so I can get the villa to myself.”
Ethan grins like this is the best entertainment he’s had all week. “You two sound like you’ve been married for ten years and hate each other.”
Milo raises one dark brow. “We’ve known each other for twelve hours, and she’s already on my last nerve.”
I meet his gaze head-on, letting my lips curve. “You’re on my last three. They’re numbered and color-coded—I know how much that turns you on.”
Aria bursts out laughing, wiping actual tears from the corners of her eyes. “I love this. I love this so much.”
I shoot her a mock glare. “Don’t encourage him. He’s insufferable.”
“I’m insufferable?” Milo echoes, his voice low and dry. “You’re the one who turned my lap into a public swimming pool and then blamed it on physics.”
“Turbulence is real,” I counter with a nonchalant shrug. “Your pants were just tragically in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He scoffs, but something darker flickers in those storm-gray eyes. “Do you expect me to fly without pants on a commercial flight? God forbid I don’t want to get arrested for public indecency.”
“I told you that in confidence!” I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest like I’ve been mortally wounded.
Ethan laughs so hard he has to brace both hands on Aria’s shoulders. “I need the full story on that water mishap.”
“No.” Milo and I snap in unison.
Dad lets out a deep chuckle and steps forward, extending his hand toward Milo.
“I’m Gregory, the father of the bride-to-be and this wild child here,” he jerks a thumb at me.
“It’s great to finally meet you, Milo. Ethan’s spoken so highly of you over the years.
It sounds like you and my Sienna are getting along swimmingly. ”
“Yeah,” I mutter, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Like a house on fire that refuses to be doused.”
Mom’s eyes widen in delighted horror. “Sienna Harlow!”
I purse my lips to suppress my laugh, but my mouth twitches at the corner anyway.
“Let’s sit and eat,” Mom says, already ushering us to the table. “Sienna, you and Milo can fight over the best shrimp skewer like civilized adults.”
I flash her a smile. “I’ll try not to stab him with a skewer… unless he starts alphabetizing the condiments.”
Milo’s voice drops as he falls into step beside me. “I’d pay good money to see you try.”
I glance up at him through my lashes, matching his tone. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m very good with sharp objects.”
His eyes darken, pupils flaring before he reins himself in. “Noted. I’ll keep my distance from anything pointy… and from you.”
“Too late,” I murmur, brushing past him on purpose so my shoulder grazes his arm. The brief contact sends an electric jolt down my spine. “You’re already in the splash zone.”
He doesn’t step back. Instead, he turns with me, closing the gap until the heat of his chest ghosts against my back. His voice drops, rougher, edged with something close to hunger. “You keep finding new ways to get closer. Almost like you enjoy testing how thin my patience is.”
I tilt my head. “Maybe I just like watching you pretend you’re not enjoying the view from the edge.”
A muscle jumps along his jaw. “Enjoying it would require lowering my guard. And we both know what happens the second I do.”
I step half an inch closer until my dress brushes his shirt. Close enough that I have to tip my chin to meet his gaze. The contact is barely there, yet it feels as if the entire beach has narrowed to a two-inch strip between us.
“Enlighten me,” I murmur, slowly tracing my tongue along my lower lip. “What exactly happens the moment you lower your guard?”
His gaze traces my mouth, lingers on the rapid flutter at the base of my throat, then returns to my eyes. “You get exactly what you’ve been begging for since the moment your water hit my lap. And neither of us walks away clean.”
Heat surges beneath my skin. I swallow once before trusting my voice again. “Good thing I like getting a little dirty. And you strike me as the type who pretends he hates messes… right up until he’s the one making them.”
He exhales through his nose. “Then keep pushing, Sienna. See how long it takes before the splash zone becomes the whole damn ocean.”
My pulse kicks so hard against my ribs that I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips… even in places I refuse to name out loud. Before I can say something clever or stupid enough to keep this going, Aria’s voice cuts through the air.
“Are you two going to stop flirting and… join us?” she calls from the table, amusement thick in her voice.
“We’re not flirting,” Milo and I snap, once again, in perfect unison.
Every face at the table stares at us, and I want nothing more than for the sand to swallow me whole.
Milo’s gaze cuts back to me. He presses his lips into a flat line, then gestures toward the two empty chairs with a slight nod. “After you.”
I slide past him, letting my hip graze his thigh for a lingering heartbeat. A low, involuntary sound rumbles from the back of his throat. I hear it, feel it. And my pulse stutters in response.
When we sit, our chairs are so close that when I cross my legs, my bare knee brushes the linen of his slacks, and a muscle in his thigh jumps at the unexpected contact.
I lean in and lower my voice. “You flinched.”
“I didn’t flinch.”
“You totally flinched.”
“I was… adjusting.”
“Adjusting away from my lethal knee?” I arch a brow. “Smart survival instinct.”
He turns his head until his breath ghosts my ear. “It’s not lethal. It’s restless… like the rest of you.”
The only response I offer is a smile. Seconds later, a server walks by with a tray of vibrant cocktails. I quickly snag two from the tray with a thanks, then pass one to Milo.
“Trying to get me drunk?” He murmurs, his fingers brushing mine as he takes the glass.
“Trying to loosen that stick you carry everywhere,” I correct sweetly. “It’s blocking what’s left of your personality.”
He takes a slow sip, eyes locked on mine over the rim. “You think I need loosening?”
“Like a one-screw-away-from-collapsing bed frame during a mind-blowing orgasm.”
His mouth twitches. “Careful there, Sienna. Keep talking like that, and I might start enjoying your company.”
“Perish the thought immediately,” I whisper back, but my pulse is thudding fast. We hold the stare long enough for heat to slide under my skin and swirl low in my stomach.
Aria luckily leans across the table, breaking the moment. “Okay, but seriously… how did the double booking even happen?”
I clear my throat and shrug. “I think I pissed off the universe once again, and this is its way of punishing me.”
Ethan chuckles. “At least it’s two bedrooms. Could’ve been worse… like no booking at all.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I snarl at him. “I still have fourteen nights of listening to him snore like a malfunctioning lawnmower.”
“I don’t snore,” Milo says mildly.
Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Sienna, be nice. Milo seems perfectly lovely.”
I side-eye him, my lips twitching to suppress the smile. “He’s tolerable in small, controlled doses… like arsenic.”
I get scolded by Mom, once again, and choose to stay silent until the food arrives. Once the server places the shrimp skewers on the table, farther down than I’d like, I snatch the plate and set it beside me before anyone else can claim the good ones.
About halfway through eating, after I make another not-really-a-joke about our “blissful domestic arrangement,” Milo leans in close until his shoulder brushes mine, playing it off like he’s reaching for a shrimp skewer.
“You’re enjoying this.” He murmurs, his breath stirring the hair at my temple.
“Immensely.” I breathe back.
“You’re going to make my life hell for the next fourteen days, aren’t you?”
I turn my head until our lips are inches apart. “Maybe…”
His gaze darkens. “Careful what you wish for, Sienna.”
Heat coils low and tight in my belly. I cover it with a long sip of my Mojito, letting the cold sweetness chase the fire away. “I always am.”
The conversation around the table drifts to wedding timeline, arriving guests, and the reception dinner menu. I nod and laugh at the right moments, but ninety percent of my brain stays tuned to the man beside me.
He mostly stays quiet, answering questions in that calm, measured voice that makes everything sound reasonable and safe. But every time I shift, my knee brushes his thigh again. Every time I laugh too loudly, his eyes flick sideways.
He’s watching me. Observing. Like I’m a beautiful, volatile equation he wants to solve… and then maybe burn the notebook afterward.
I lean in, my voice barely a whisper against the shell of his ear. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
My finger circles the rim of my glass as I look at him. “Staring without staring.”
“I’m observing.”
My eyes roll before I can stop them. “Observing what, exactly?”
“Just wondering how someone so small can generate so much chaos.”
“Five-seven is average,” I snort. “And chaos is my brand. What’s yours? Silence and repressed longing?”
“Close,” he murmurs. “Silence, repressed longing, and the occasional urge to organize your entire life.”
I gasp theatrically. “Kinky.”
His eyes go storm-cloud dark. “You have no idea.”
Heat pools again, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Mmm… that almost sounded like you were flirting with me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, his lips curving into the smallest, most devastating smirk. “You’re irreplaceable, remember? I’d never recover from the withdrawal.”
I grin slowly. “Damn right. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to replace me, only to fail spectacularly.”
He leans in until his breath prickles the hairs on my ear. “I’ll try to contain my inevitable heartbreak.”
I lean back in my chair and study him in the torchlight, my stomach flipping. That line he spoke earlier on our deck—“I’m not most men”—echoes in my head. And that’s exactly why every sensible part of me should be screaming to run. Screaming that this man could unravel me in ways I’m not ready for.
But instead of listening to the thoughts, I grab another shrimp skewer and try to ignore the erratic thud of my heart that wants to leap straight into his hands.