9. Jace
Jace
“Banks, was wondering if Sadie could talk to her sister,” I say into my phone.
“She’s in Valor Springs with Delaney, Indigo, Riley, and Rowan. They’re all holed up together to keep them safe. We’ve got Lone Star Security checking in on them while we’re away.”
I glance at Sadie who waits beside me with wide eyes. “Right. I’ll call Delaney. Thanks.” I’m about to hang up when Banks interrupts.
“Everything okay?”
I don’t know if he can hear it in my voice or if Mack may have mentioned something to him about catching feelings. I glance once more over at Sadie. “Everything’s fine. Why?”
“You just sound funny.”
Ugh. Leave it to my brother to state the obvious. Bank’s and I are closest in age. “All’s good.” I’m hoping he drops the subject because I don’t really want to have this conversation with Sadie sitting on the couch next to me, smelling like sunshine and something tropical that makes me dizzy.
“Okay. Call me back,” he says, knowing full well I’m full of shit.
“Yep.” I hang up before he can say anything else. I pull up Delaney Coleman from my contacts and put the call through. Delaney grew up with us in Valor Springs and her and Nash were as thick as thieves when they were younger. It’s fitting how they’ve made their way back to each other.
She answers, “Jace, any news?” Delaney’s been a nervous wreck since Nash’s kidnapping.
“No news yet. I’m actually calling to let Sadie speak with Anniston. I’ve heard all the women are there.”
I can hear Delaney’s smile through the phone. “Yes. Women are stronger together. So, I figured I’d have them all come here.”
“Smart.” I wait a breath while Delaney hands the phone over to Anniston. I do the same, giving Sadie the phone.
Her eyes are grateful as she takes the phone. Tears slip down her cheeks as she says, “Hello? Anni, are you okay?”
I rise from the couch, patting her knee as I stand to offer her some privacy.
They talk on the phone to each other as I pack a bag for the beach.
It’s the perfect play. Locals loosen up there.
Tourists blend in. I can ask casual questions about new faces at the marina or weird yacht activity without anyone thinking twice.
And maybe Sadie will relax for five minutes instead of glaring at me like I’m the reason her lesson plans are on hold.
Sadie ends the call and hands me back the phone.
Our hands brush and I swear there’s a slight shot of electricity that buzzes from our connection.
“I’ll get dressed.” She heads down the hallway as I try to push down these feelings and to take Mack’s advice and not think with my dick. Easier said than done.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens while I grab my sunglasses.
Sadie stands there in a navy blue bikini.
The color makes her skin look like warm honey in the morning light.
The halter top ties behind her neck and cradles her full breasts in a way that is modest and completely unfair at the same time.
The bottoms sit low enough on her hips to show the soft dip of her waist and the gentle flare of curves that make my brain short-circuit.
Her legs are long and toned, the kind that could wrap around a man and make him forget his own rules.
She’s not runway thin. She’s real. Soft where it counts, strong everywhere else.
Perfect. The kind of body that belongs on this beach, in this sun, and yeah, I’m man enough to admit I want my hands on every inch of it.
I realize in that exact second I’ve made a huge mistake.
Suggesting the beach sounded smart last night. Professional. Smart cover for intel. Now? I’m screwed. Because how am I supposed to focus on asking around about locals when Sadie Wells looks like every fantasy I never let myself have?
She catches me staring and lifts one eyebrow, the serious elementary school teacher look she’s perfected. “Problem, Hawthorne?”
I set the sunglasses down before I drop them and paste on the charming grin that usually gets me out of trouble. “Not a single one. You look ready to own that beach. Navy blue is a good call on you.”
She tugs at the tie on her top like she is checking it’s still there. “It’s practical. Less likely to make people stare than some of the dental floss options in the shops. And don’t get any ideas. This isn’t for your viewing pleasure.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, lying through my fucking teeth. My body’s already having plenty of ideas, and none of them are professional. “But if we’re selling the happy-couple cover, a little looking might help the story.”
She rolls her eyes and grabs a canvas beach bag she’s packed with a few items. “You’re impossible. Let’s go before I decide staying inside with the blinds closed is the smarter plan.”
We load the Jeep with towels, an umbrella, and a cooler I stocked with water and fruit.
The drive to the public access near the boardwalk takes five minutes.
The town’s waking up in full summer mode.
Kids with boogie boards, couples holding hands, the creak of the boardwalk under feet, the distant thump of music from a food truck already setting up.
I park in the shade of a dune and grab the gear.
Sadie walks beside me in a light white cover-up that does almost nothing to hide the bikini.
The sand is warm under my bare feet when we hit the beach proper.
I pick a spot with a clear view of both the water and the path back to the parking area.
Close enough to people-watch, far enough from the loudest families.
I plant the umbrella, spread two towels side by side, and drop the cooler.
Sadie settles on her towel, stretches her legs out, and tips her face to the sun.
The light catches in her loose ponytail and turns it gold at the edges.
I sit next to her and try to look like a guy who’s here for the view.
My eyes keep sliding sideways anyway. The way the navy fabric hugs the curve of her hip.
The smooth line of her stomach. The little freckle above her left knee that I’ve got no business noticing.
Inner monologue time: Get your head straight, Hawthorne.
You have guarded people through riots and red carpets without this kind of distraction.
But none of them had Sadie’s mix of stubborn and soft.
None of them made me want to pull them closer to see if they’d push back.
This is work. Intel first. Then keep her safe.
Then maybe figure out why the idea of her leaving at the end of this makes my chest feel tight.
I force myself to scan the beach like I’m supposed to. A group of guys tossing a football near the water. A couple of older locals with metal detectors. A woman in a big hat reading a book two blankets over. Nothing screaming suspicious. Yet.
“See the couple with the matching visors?” I say, nodding toward a pair walking the wet sand. “They look like regulars. Might know if any new yachts have been causing talk at the marina.”
Sadie follows my gaze, then surprises me by standing up and brushing sand off her legs. “The two women a few blankets down have been watching us since we sat. Let’s start there. They look friendly enough.”
Before I can argue she’s already walking over, cover-up fluttering, that natural teacher smile in place. I follow because that’s the job, but also because I want to see what she does with it. Sadie’s a natural. She introduces us like we’ve been together forever.
“Hi, I’m Sadie and this is Jace. We’re new to town for a little while and trying to figure out where the locals actually hang out.”
The women are in their late thirties, both fit, both wearing the kind of expensive sunglasses that say country club money.
Melissa has dark hair twisted up, Brooke has sun-streaked highlights.
They introduce themselves and within two minutes Sadie has them laughing about the line at The Salty Spoon and the eternal missing flip-flops on the wall there.
I slide into the conversation when there’s a gap. “Heard there was some excitement with a big boat at Bluefin Marina last week. Any truth to the rumors?”
Melissa waves a manicured hand. “Oh, summer yacht drama is constant. Rich people and their toys. Nothing that made the police blotter, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Brooke leans in like she’s sharing state secrets. “But if you want real gossip, the Dune Point Country Club is where it all happens. Members only, but the wives run the social calendar. You two should come tomorrow night. Casual dinner. Good food, better stories. Bring your boyfriend.”
Sadie goes still beside me for half a second.
We both know what this is. An in. A chance to hear what the people who actually run this town are saying.
We have to accept. And we have to sell the couple thing right now, in front of these women who are already watching us like they’re casting a romcom.
I don’t even think. I reach over, slide my arm around Sadie’s waist, and pull her gently against my side.
The second my palm meets the bare skin above the bikini bottom, the world tilts beneath my feet.
Her skin is warm from the sun, smooth and soft and perfect under my fingers.
The curve of her hip presses into mine like it belongs there.
I feel every inch of her along my body and my board shorts suddenly feel way too thin.
I’m instantly hard, the reaction so fast and strong I have to angle my hips away from the women and shift my weight to hide it.
My heart kicks like I ran a sprint. This isn’t just attraction.
This is want, sharp and real and way past professional.
Sadie plays along like she was born for it. She rests her hand on my chest, fingers warm through my shirt, and leans into me just enough to sell it. “Boyfriend,” she says with a smile that looks almost real. “Still in the phase where he thinks he can charm me into anything.”
The women laugh. Melissa points at me. “He has the look of a man who usually gets what he wants.”