Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sam
O f all the women I imagined sitting across from at a bar in Austin, Naomi wouldn’t have even crossed my mind long enough to make the list.
I try to think back to the last update I heard about her life or whereabouts, but I come up blank. To say it’s been a decade since I saw the woman would not be an understatement.
And woman she is.
I still have an image in my mind of the little sister who always followed us around and demanded to be included in things Dom had zero intention of including her in, but I see none of that little girl sitting across from me now.
What I see is a bold, smart, confident woman.
One who I'm pretty sure is trying to get me drunk.
Not that I mind. I can’t remember the last time I felt free enough to relax like this. Or the last time I was in the presence of a woman who lit my insides on fire quite the way Naomi does. Every look from those sparkling green eyes makes my breath catch. Every glimpse of her tongue darting out to trace her lower teeth as she grins makes my heart beat a little faster .
I’m on shaky ground here but somehow, all I want to do is dance.
Just the thought makes me feel like an old man, considering how long it’s been since I actually did dance. With a woman or not.
I’m forty-two, not exactly ancient, but my job requires me to be on-call all the time, and I wasn’t the biggest partier even before I started managing The White Sands. The other guys would always let loose, but I had so much to lose it never felt like the right move.
Even now, when we’re all part owners and theoretically on even footing, I still feel like I have the most to prove. It didn’t help when the guys fell in love, one after the other over the last few years, leaving me to be the actual odd man out at every gathering.
They all managed to find someone on the island, but I just don’t see how that’s possible for me. I have an image to maintain—the trustworthy, approachable General Manager of a multi-million dollar property in the Caribbean. No matter what the guys say, I can’t shack up with one of the employees or guests.
“I got you hibiscus, or as the locals call it, Jamaica.”
“Thanks.” I accept the much too tall cocktail from a grinning Naomi.
She’s starting to get a bit pinker in the cheeks, so I know she must be feeling the alcohol. And yet here we are, settling down to our drinks and not nearly enough food.
“I think this might have to be our last stop. Maybe we should order a few more tacos and chill for a bit.”
Her mouth drops open in indignation. “Last stop? I have, like, eight more taco places I want to take you to. And it’s only…” She lifts her phone to her face. The sparkly pink device never leaves her hand. “Eleven? Dang. How did it get so late? We ll, regardless, I know a couple of the places are open till midnight. There’s still time.”
She’s adorable in her eagerness to show me the city she so clearly loves. And she’s getting more and more eager as time goes by and drinks go down.
I’ve considered a handful of times over the last few hours whether I should be doing more to dissuade the fervent looks and smiles that I see her shooting my way.
Because all I’m doing is returning them.
She smiles, I smile.
She giggles, I bite my lip.
She leans against me as we stroll down the sidewalk, and I pull her arm into mine.
It’s a slippery slope, and one I’ve been on since we walked out of that first bar together.
There’s no way around it—this woman is sexy as hell.
Her long, curly brown hair, loose and wild over her creamy tanned and freckled shoulders seems to be begging me to run my hands through it. I find my head tilting to the side, imagining what it would be like to tuck my face into the curve of her neck and the angular ridge above the swell of her breasts. The desire to be closer to her churns through me. I lose focus while she’s telling stories as I watch her tip her head back and laugh.
I’d like to blame the alcohol on this sudden rush of passionate feelings, but I can recall very similar ones when I first saw her at speed dating. The mere presence of her does something to me, and I can’t pass it off as booze-induced.
But there’s no doubt it’s the alcohol making me consider things that otherwise would be out of the question.
I look down at my hands, flexing my fingers to bring myself out of my completely inappropriate fantasies.
“I’m going to go order us a platter of tacos to soak up all this booze. Let’s just hang here. It’s quiet.” I cringe, sounding like an old man. “And we can talk.”
Naomi narrows her eyes but doesn’t protest. When the feast arrives, we both dig in. I feel better immediately. More stable, more clear-headed.
But somehow, I still feel like taking this woman back to my hotel.
It’s a bad idea, right?
“I can’t believe I haven't made it to The Sands since opening week. You guys have owned it for what, a decade?”
“Just about.'' It's crazy to think about it like that, but time has flown by. From our meager beginnings as a bunch of clueless city boys to the savvy, island business owners we’ve become, it’s been a wild ride. “You should come visit. Hit me up anytime, I’ll get you the best room in the resort.”
Naomi raises her brows and smirks. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Her attention drifts to her phone momentarily before her eyes come back to meet mine. “I bet my followers would love a full spread on the hottest getaway just a short jump from Houston.”
“Exactly,” I offer, although all the follower talk has me a bit confused. I’ve never been a big social media guy. I have a woman on our front desk staff who manages the accounts for The Sands, and my own personal accounts are dusty, deserted roads, complete with tumbleweeds.
Naomi seems to have combined the personal and professional, creating a business of…well, herself.
“So, what do you tell your followers? How does picture-taking translate into a job?”
Her face blooms open in a way I haven't seen before, the subject clearly lighting her up. “It’s not a hundred percent my job, you know, most things are paid for by the family, but I’m growing my personal brand from local Austin influencing and general lifestyle influencing to sustainable fashion influencing for women in their ‘business and family years’.”
A shadow passes through her bright eyes as she makes the air quotes, but it’s gone before I can identify it.
“It’s been getting more and more challenging to keep up with the younger influencers.” She rolls her eyes when I scoff at that. “You know what I mean. I’m thirty-two, almost thirty-three. That’s a whole different demographic from when I started. I need to be able to have broad enough appeal to stay in the game. Women who are in their thirties have different considerations and interests. Things like family, careers, and houses. And if they don't have those things, they want them. I’m going to have to figure out a way to stay relevant as a single, childless woman in her thirties.”
“Hence the speed dating.”
“Exactly. For the last few years, it’s been easy to slide by on commiserating about how much online dating sucks, but that content isn’t getting results like it used to. Women want solutions.”
She breaks off and looks down at the device gripped between her hands, although she doesn't flip the phone screen to face herself.
“It’s hard getting older and not being sure if all the dreams you had for your life are ever going to happen,” she says softly.
When her eyes rise once more to meet mine, I nod. “I get that. If someone told me at thirty-two that I’d still be single at forty-two, I would have called them crazy.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you single? Isn’t that island covered with bikini babes?”
I shrug. “I suppose, but it’s complicated as the GM. Honestly, I’d prefer finding someone who didn't have a connection to the resort at all, so I could have a home life and a work life that were separate. ”
“Hence, the speed dating.” Naomi mimics my earlier words with a smile.
I nod. “Hence the speed dating. I know it's a little far-fetched to think I’m going to talk a woman from Austin into moving to Faraday to live with me, but…I don’t know.”
Naomi’s eyes widen in surprise. “Are you crazy? Any lady would jump at that chance.”
“No one has yet.”
Her mouth opens and then closes again. I wait eagerly for her to turn her thoughts into words. I find myself on the edge of my seat waiting for her opinion on things, especially things about myself. Not something I’m used to feeling with anyone, not even the guys.
She’s perceptive and insightful, offering her views on the world in the kindest ways. I hate to say it, but she’s nothing like I would have imagined when I thought of little Naomi all grown up. She seems to have avoided a lot of the spoiled rich girl entitlement attitude that I see every day at The Sands.
She’s…great.
Too great.
I should probably get out of here.
“Wanna get out of here?” she asks, reading my mind.
“I was just thinking that. I’ve had a really good time tonight, Naomi, I hope?—”
“I mean, like, with me.”
I just stare.
She laughs at what must be an incredibly stupid look on my face. “Do you want to come back to my place? It’s pretty nice. Could be nicer than your hotel room. Definitely less lonely.”
Oh, dang. Here it is. The moment of truth. “I…”
She waits.
“I’m not sure that’s?—”
“I’ll never tell anyone. ”
And there it is.
Once those words leave her lips, I have no choice but to face the hard truth. The only thing preventing me from jumping on this opportunity like a kid at Christmas is the idea that someone might find out.
I can’t risk it.
“Naomi,” I start, but the woman’s already ten steps ahead of me.
“I get it. It would be weird if anyone found out. Maybe it’s kind of weird anyway. You probably remember when I was born…not that anyone could ever forget that.” She glances down at the back of her phone again as if considering checking it before bringing her piercing gaze back to mine. “But that’s ancient history. We’re adults. We’re single. We’re in a city where no one who knows anything about our past is going to barge in. It’s totally safe.”
I must not look convinced because she blazes on. “I’m not even suggesting that anything is going to happen. I’m just inviting you back to see my place. As friends. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I want to hold out a bit longer, just so I can tell myself later that I did, but part of me is concerned she’s going to bail if I don’t agree soon.
And, while that would be preferable, it’s not what I want.
“Okay.”
Her face lights up. “Okay.” She does check her phone then, tapping quickly, before placing it face down on the table. “I just called an Uber. They’ll be here in,” another quick peek at the screen, “three minutes.”
I nod, impressed with the efficiency of the transportation system here in the real world. It’s easy to forget how normal people live when you spend all your time in la-la land .
When a silver Prius pulls up, I take a deep breath and follow her into the backseat.