Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
TRINITY
I slide into an empty seat at the outdoor restaurant, trying not to look as flustered as I feel.
My legs still wobble slightly, and my cheeks burn every time I remember what Cash and I did against that banyan tree less than an hour ago.
Public sex has always seemed unnecessarily dirty to me—risky and inappropriate—but the memory of his fingers inside me, his body pressed against mine while anyone could have walked around that bend in the trail. ..
I would have let him do anything to me if Egret hadn’t interrupted us.
What is happening to me? I’m not this person. I don’t make out on hiking trails or have sex in strange beds with men I barely know.
I make lists and plan things and think through consequences.
“There you are.” Josie plops down beside me, her eyes bright despite the dark circles beneath them. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
“Just enjoying the scenery.” I reach for my water glass, hoping the cool liquid will help calm my racing pulse. “The hiking trails here are beautiful.”
“I bet that’s not all you were enjoying.” Her grin is knowing as she glances at my hair, which I hastily tried to tame before arriving at lunch. “You and Cash disappeared for quite a while.”
Heat floods my face. “We were just talking.”
“Sure you were.” She winks, then eyes the plate I’ve piled high with oysters on ice, grilled prawns, and a small mountain of crab legs. “Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.” I crack open a crab leg, trying to act casual despite feeling like every person in the restaurant can somehow tell what I’ve been doing. “Want some?”
Josie’s eyes fix on my plate, her face suddenly paling. She swallows hard and looks away. “No, thanks.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I set down my fork, noticing her slightly greenish complexion. “You look a little queasy.”
“I’m fine.” She takes a small sip of her water. “Just not in the mood for seafood.”
I study her more carefully, noting the way she’s barely touched her own plate of grilled chicken and field greens. “Do you want to go check out the flower market after lunch? The concierge said it’s only open until four, and we need to make final decisions on the centerpieces.”
Josie’s eyes flicker to my seafood again, and she visibly gulps. “Actually, I think I might need to skip that. Would you mind going alone?”
My eyebrows go up in surprise. “Of course not, but?—”
“I’m just feeling a little nauseous.” She presses a hand to her stomach, looking genuinely uncomfortable. “Must have been the boat ride yesterday or something.”
My event-planner brain immediately shifts into problem-solving mode. “I can reschedule if you’re not feeling well. The wedding’s still days away—we have time.”
“No, no.” She waves away my concern. “The flowers are important, and I trust your judgment completely. You know exactly what I like.”
I reach over to feel her forehead, my protective big sister instincts kicking in. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe you should lie down for a bit?”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She stands, steadying herself against the table. “I’ll text you later, okay? Just pick whatever flowers you think will look best with the color scheme.”
“Feel better,” I call after her, watching as she hurries toward the resort, one hand still pressed against her stomach.
I turn back to my seafood feast, realizing I now have an afternoon to myself. Part of me feels relieved—I could use some time alone to think about what’s happening between me and these men.
The other part feels a flicker of disappointment that I’ll be navigating the flower market solo. It might have been nice to have someone along, someone to help me carry arrangements and offer opinions.
Someone like Cash, with his analytical mind. Or Lucas, with his eye for beauty. Or Matheo, with his photographer’s sense of composition. Or even Kyren, who might make the whole tedious process more fun.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge these thoughts. They’re paid companions, not actual partners. I shouldn’t be thinking of them as if they can be at my beck and call for every mundane task.
As if they’re really mine.
Even if my body is still humming from Cash’s touch. Even though I still feel the ghost of his fingers inside me, his mouth hot against my neck, his promises of what the others would do to me if given the chance.
I crack another crab leg with more force than necessary, scattering tiny bits of shell across the white tablecloth.
One week. That’s all this is. One week of pretending—of fun—and then it’s back to reality.
I just need to remember that, no matter how real it starts to feel.
“You should ask me to go with you to the flower market.”
I jolt in my seat, nearly dropping my fork. Lucas stands on the other side of the table, a lazy smile on his face as he slides into the seat Josie just vacated.
“How long have you been there?” I ask, my heart racing.
“Long enough to hear you need to go pick flowers.” He reaches over and steals a grilled prawn from my plate. “Ask me to go with you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t need anyone to go with me. I’m perfectly capable of choosing flowers by myself.”
“I know you are.” Lucas rolls his eyes, but there’s nothing condescending about it. “You’re capable of doing pretty much anything by yourself. That’s not the point.”
“What is the point then?” I take a sip of water, trying to appear nonchalant despite the butterflies in my stomach.
“The point,” he says, leaning forward with surprising intensity, “is that there’s nothing wrong with needing people. With asking for what you want.” His voice softens. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Trinity.”
“I don’t need help choosing flowers,” I insist, feeling oddly defensive.
“I know,” Lucas replies with a shrug. “But maybe you want company. Maybe you don’t want to be alone with your thoughts after what happened on the trail with Cash.” His eyes twinkle. “Maybe you just enjoy my sparkling personality.”
I laugh, despite inwardly groaning at the fact that my make-out session with Cash is already public knowledge. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.” He grins. “But I’m not going with you unless you ask. For real. No hints, no assumptions.”
I study his face, this alpha who somehow manages to be both playful and deeply perceptive. There’s something refreshing about his straightforwardness, his refusal to play games.
“Fine,” I say, setting down my fork. “Lucas, would you like to come to the flower market with me this afternoon?”
His entire face lights up. “I’d love to.” He stands and offers me his hand. “See? Was that so hard?”
As I take his hand, something loosens in my chest—a tightness I hadn’t even realized was there. Maybe he’s right. Maybe there is nothing wrong with simply asking for what I want.
Especially when I’m suddenly surrounded by four men who seem determined to give it to me.