Chapter 8
SAWYER
BY THE TIME I’d freshened up and gotten dressed for the welcome party, I’d convinced myself of two things.
One—Beckett was going to be the death of me if I went anywhere near him in this one-bed situation.
And two—if I were to survive this week, much less tonight, I needed to commit to the act like my life depended on it.
Especially considering the number of people I’d see tonight who had known me since childhood and would absolutely clock my ass if I so much as blinked wrong.
Act normal, I told myself as I paced the length of the cabin, waiting for Beckett to finish getting ready in the bathroom. Everything’s fine. Beckett is my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boy. Friend.
God, was it hot in here? I felt feverish already, so I opened the front door, the cold wind providing instant relief.
“Leaving without me?” Beckett asked.
“No, I—” I spun around to face him, only to immediately forget my words.
Jesus. He looked…incredible. He usually wore his dark blond hair a bit more casual, in a just-ran-my-fingers-through-it way, but tonight he’d styled it just enough to keep it from falling onto his forehead.
He’d kept that sexy scruff that lined his jaw.
As my eyes continued their trek downward, I could only stare at the way he filled out the black pants and fitted black button-down he wore.
The guy was in great shape; the material hugged his body in a way that screamed, I work out.
The man needed to come with a warning label, for fuck’s sake. How was he my date?
“Sawyer?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“I asked if I need this.” He lifted up the suit jacket hanging off his fingertips. “Is the party more formal tonight?”
“No, no more clothes,” I said quickly, before he decided to put it on and cover what was already perfection. When he arched a brow, I added, “You look good already. I mean your outfit. It’s great. You know, like…that.”
I didn’t mention that his leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone gave just enough of a glimpse of skin to make it distracting for me. Good distracting or bad, I guessed we’d have to wait and see.
Beckett’s gaze moved over me, slow and deliberate, and I froze. I’d played it safe with a crisp white shirt and navy blazer, definitely not the sex god look he achieved.
But the way he was looking at me, it didn’t feel like I’d gotten it wrong.
It definitely was not making my cock stir in any kind of way. Nope, not at all.
I shifted under the weight of his stare, and his eyes met mine again.
“You look good too,” he said.
I was not going to get flustered before we even left the cabin. “I’m glad my fake boyfriend approves.”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t look away. “I do.”
Right. Cool. We were just going to pretend that didn’t do something to me.
“Okay,” I said, turning to head out the door before I started drooling. “Let’s go find the bar.”
“Lead the way.”
The welcome party was being held just off the main resort, and as we stepped inside it was instantly sensory overload.
The voices of well over a hundred people chatting and laughing layered over the music, over the glasses clinking and the blaze in the massive stone firepit in the center of the room.
One entire wall was nothing but glass, showing off the mountain view, and everywhere I looked were faces I recognized.
“Sawyer, where have you been hiding?”
I barely had time to brace myself before I was pulled into a hug by someone I hadn’t seen in years, followed by another greeting, then another, names and faces blending together as I smiled and nodded and introduced Beckett to all of them.
We’d barely gotten in the door before being bombarded, and I didn’t have a clue how either one of us would manage without any alcohol.
Okay, maybe I was speaking for myself there. Or thought I was, because as I was stuck mid-convo trying to remember the name of the person I was speaking to, I felt Beckett’s hand on the small of my back and he leaned in.
“I’ll grab drinks.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “You read my mind.”
He winked and drifted through the crowd toward the bar, and it was hard not to keep watching him instead of returning to the couple I’d been speaking to.
Which was probably how I didn’t notice Peter until he was suddenly there.
“Oh, Peter, I was wondering where you were,” said the woman—oh, it was Mrs. Green, who used to do Mom’s accounting before she retired.
She patted Peter’s arm, and he grinned down at her like he deserved to be there.
“I was just about to tell Sawyer you two should visit next time you’re in the Hamptons. ”
“Actually, we’re not—” I started, and then all eyes were on me and I began to sweat. What I wanted to say was we’re not together because Peter’s an asshole, but I didn’t. “We’re not together anymore,” I said instead.
She blinked, glancing at Peter, then me again. “I’m sorry?”
“We broke up.” God, could I make it any clearer? “I’m with someone else now.”
A soft gasp left her and she rested her hand on Peter’s arm. “Oh, Peter, are you all right?”
Oh…my…God.
I tried, really. I didn’t want to show a reaction, because tonight was supposed to be calm, cool Sawyer—but hell no, I wasn’t about to stand here and let everyone think this was my fault.
“You’re sweet,” Peter said, smiling down at her. “I’m—”
“The one who broke up with me,” I interrupted. “And he also has a boyfriend, so trust me, he’s just fine.”
Shit, where was Beckett with that drink? I could’ve used it…or thrown it in someone’s face. Either way.
Mrs. Green dropped her hand and gave her husband an uneasy look as she took a step back. “I see. We’ll just leave you two to…”
She didn’t finish her sentence before they both hurried off, and I sighed.
Great. A few minutes in and I was already causing a scene. Fucking Peter.
Thank God a waiter with a tray full of champagne passed by us then, because I grabbed a flute and took a huge swallow of the bubbly stuff.
“There he is. I was wondering if the radio thing was just an act.” Peter smirked and lifted his tumbler to his lips. “Guess not.”
“Are you stalking me now?”
“It’s not hard to hear from everyone about how your ex has gone off the rails in public. Really, Sawyer, the name calling? Childish, isn’t it?”
“Nah, felt pretty cathartic to me.”
“How does your boyfriend feel about your crying over me on the radio?”
I stopped scanning the room for Beckett and narrowed my eyes on Peter.
It took longer than it should’ve to really let what he’d said sink in, because I thought surely I must’ve heard him wrong. Because how could someone you’d been with for two years of your life suddenly be such a heartless prick?
“In case you missed it,” I said, my voice cold even to my ears, “I stopped crying over you.”
“Ah, right. That guy—”
“Beckett.”
“He’s not bad. Not really your type, though. What’d you do, hire him for the week?”
I could feel every ounce of rage that had taken me over since the second he walked out the door start to bubble up.
It didn’t even matter that he’d guessed right; I’d never let him know he was close to the mark.
“You just can’t believe I’d ever be happy without you, can you?
I don’t even think you want me to be, or you wouldn’t be crashing my moms’ wedding. ”
“I was invited.”
“Yeah, when we were together. Breakups usually mean you’re uninvited.”
“I’m Alec’s date. But you already know that.”
“What I know is that you’re not welcome here.”
“There you are.” Beckett’s voice was smooth as he moved in beside me, the heat of his body penetrating my jacket. He handed me a drink, his fingers brushing mine in a way that was not accidental. Then his hand came up to settle at the back of my neck so casually, though it felt anything but.
“Sorry it took so long,” he said, his mouth close enough to my ear that I felt his words like a soft caress.
“’S’okay,” I started, wanting to tell him he hadn’t missed anything but my realizing my ex-boyfriend was a dick.
But then Beckett dipped his head and brushed his lips just below my ear, pressing a soft kiss there, and oh. Oh fuck.
I didn’t know how I kept breathing, or how I kept a grip on my glass when my entire body suddenly turned to Jell-O.
“Mmm,” he murmured, his breath warm on my neck. “You smell so fucking good.”
My stomach did a dropkick, and I felt my eyes close, lost in whatever it was his touch was doing to me. But then I realized Peter was still standing there, watching this all unfold, and my eyes opened.
When Beckett pulled back, his hand stayed right where it was, and I didn’t miss how Peter’s expression had gone tight.
“Was there something you needed, Peter?” Beckett asked, then casually sipped on his drink.
“We were just catching up,” Peter said, his voice a little strained before he cleared his throat. “Alec’s waving me over, so…enjoy yourselves.”
“Oh, we will.” Beckett gave him a shit-eating smile, and Peter’s gaze traveled between the two of us again before he finally disappeared into the crowd.
I exhaled slowly, not even realizing I’d been holding my breath. “Holy shit.”
“Too much?” His hand was still at the back of my neck, and I swear his fingers were all that was holding me upright.
“No,” I said. “No, that was fucking perfect.”
Understatement of the century.
He hummed softly, like he’d expected the answer, and then his hand traveled down the length of my spine, sending shivers through my body.
“I’m sorry I didn’t interrupt sooner. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it…” I was so focused on his fingers and the way they disappeared as he pulled back that I couldn’t concentrate. “I, uh, I mean, it was fine. I think I realized something tonight, so…thank you.”
Beckett’s blue eyes searched mine, holding me captive in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else. “What did you realize?”
I didn’t know if I could fully put it into words yet. I was still processing my conversation with Peter, but maybe it was just that I’d let him get under my skin in a room full of people that made me wonder if he didn’t bring out the worst in me.
“How about I tell you later?” I said. Peter was taking up too much of our night already, and I hadn’t even gotten around to seeing my family.
Beckett held my gaze, almost like he was checking that I was okay, and then gave a small nod. “Deal.”
Simple. No questions asked, just the steady acceptance he kept showing.
The tension that had been sitting in my chest since Peter had first walked into the lobby finally eased up, and I took a sip of my drink.
“Whoa,” I said, glancing down at it and just now realizing what it was. “How did you know I love White Russians?”
“I might’ve run into Rome at the bar and he let it slip. That’s what took so long.”
“Ah,” I said, understanding dawning. “He was flirting with you, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t think there was anyone within a twenty-foot radius who was safe.”
I laughed, the sound foreign to my ears, but welcome. Around us, the party was in full swing—the music louder, people venturing out of their chairs to dance.
“So…shall we?” I asked, gesturing with my glass in the direction I’d last caught a glimpse of my moms. “I feel the need to show you off.”
Beckett nodded with a chuckle, a warm, throaty sound I wanted to hear more of. Then his hand settled again at my lower back, guiding me through the crowd.
With every conversation, every group we stopped to talk to, the dread I’d felt leading up to tonight dissipated, even as I felt eyes watching me from across the room.
Through it all Beckett stayed by my side, a steady but charming presence that wasn’t over the top or begging for attention the way other guys I dated had been.
Instead, he checked in with me in subtle ways, and I was almost ashamed to admit how much I enjoyed his preference for physical touch.
I didn’t know whether it was just the job or who he was, but every time our shoulders touched when we were standing too close, or when the back of his hand brushed against mine, I felt something stir low in my belly.
It was dangerous, whatever it was, and I refused to put a name to it, not when nothing could happen between us.
This was temporary. One week. That was the arrangement. That was it.
But standing there, with Beckett’s arm curled around my waist and his voice low by my ear as he said something to make the group laugh again…it didn’t feel fake.
It felt easy.
Too easy. Too right.
But that was what he was paid to do, to be whoever his clients needed, and he was playing his part perfectly.
So why did I feel a little disappointed?