Chapter 19
MIA
Stretching out on the huge comfy bed, I doomscroll while analyzing the inner workings of my twisted little mind. I’m not sure how it’s even possible, considering I’ve spent the best part of the last six months dreading this trip, but I’ve woken up in a good mood today.
Like, crazy good.
Despite getting verbally attacked by my toxic ex last night.
And I’m not even drunk.
Maybe dumping my emotional baggage on my roomie helped.
The spooning wasn’t bad either. Pete wasn’t a cuddler. The only people I’ve ever spooned with are Haven and Kim, and Kim’s a kicker, so that’s always a risky move.
Swayze doesn’t seem to have any such issues. As far as spoons go, he's a top-tier spooner.
I fell asleep so easily in his big, warm arms, and he didn’t let me go all night.
He’s not a bad forker either since we’re measuring stats…
“Coffee, my lady?” Swayze snaps me back to the present, walking toward me, mug in hand.
My cheeks flush, heart jumping in panic at him figuring out where my mind was. He looks sexy as all hell with his hair all tousled, a wide smile stretching across his stubbled jaw, but I think I’m safe. He doesn’t know I was just thinking about his prong.
See what I did there? It’s the little things.
My eyes connect with his crystal-clear gaze, and his grin somehow spreads even wider. I’m not the only one who seems brighter today.
Doomscrolling and self-analysis forgotten, I drop my phone to the bed.
“What’s got you in such a good mood? I know you didn’t get lucky last night—you were stuck listening to my emotional word vomit. Sorry about that, by the way.” My cheeks heat again, still mortified at my little episode. I don’t like doing that. I generally deal with my crap myself.
He laughs, looking way too hot in nothing but board shorts.
“Who says I didn’t get lucky?”
“Jesus, if you did, we have wildly different definitions of the word. What’s yours?”
“Hmmm… I got to listen to you snore cuddled up next to me instead of from the floor. My back thinks we got pretty damn lucky.”
He sets the coffee cup on the bedside table beside me and plants a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering for a brief second.
That move absolutely does not send butterflies fluttering wildly inside me.
Nope, not one bit.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” He squats down to rifle through his suitcase.
Sweet Jesus, the rippling back muscles would make a stone statue weep. He looks like he could take on The Rock in the ring, not be a freakin’ PD officer. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but holy cow.
Welcome to my mind, everyone.
Last night, I unpacked all my baggage and showed the dude just how fucking broken I am.
Today, I’m perving over him like he’s shirtless Taylor, and I’m Team Jacob circa 2013.
Ha, maybe I’ve always had a thing for wolves.
“Mia?” Swayze looks over his shoulder at me, blinking expectantly. What he’s waiting for I don’t even remember right now.
Dammit, Jacob. This is your fault, you hellhound.
“I asked what was on the itinerary today,” he drawls, amusement lacing his tone.
“Ohhhh shit, the itinerary! We didn’t even look at that yesterday.”
He chuckles as I leap off the bed to grab the laminated—yep, laminated—breakdown of our two-week stay. I quickly scan the sheet and snicker in amusement.
“Well, they’re easing us in slow—Nick actually wrote that on here, in case you were wondering. We’ve got a pottery class and wine tasting scheduled for this afternoon, then a beach BBQ tonight. Cars pick us up at 2 p.m.”
“A pottery class? What the fuck, like Patrick Swayze in Ghost? Nick’s gotta be messing with us.” He stares at me in slack-jawed shock.
“Close your mouth, Swayze, you’ll catch flies.” I giggle as he snaps it shut. “Maybe this is Nick’s ode to you. So… you gonna fondle my clay, Wolfie?”
“If you’re lucky, I might.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I lose it, full-on belly laughing, snort and all. After everything that happened yesterday, it’s so damn good to laugh.
While he studies the itinerary like a police case file, I root through my bag, pulling out a bikini and my unicorn slippers.
“Since our morning’s free, I’m gonna grab a shower, then do some work by the pool, if that’s cool with you ‘Ze?”
He looks up, his eyes automatically dropping to my feet, and he laughs. Hard.
So hard he falls back on his ass.
“You did not bring the fucking unicorns on vacation. It’s like eighty degrees out there.”
“And? Life’s too short for boring footwear.”
His eyes rise from the slippers, slowly scanning my body until they reach my face, and my skin burns under his slow perusal.
Is he checking me out?
My cheeks flush, leaving me a little discombobulated.
That's a good word. Why don’t we use it more?
“Believe me, Mia, there’s a lot of words I could use to describe you. Boring would never be one of them.”
Swoooooooon.
I barely suppress the sigh that wants to slip out.
Wait, why am I swooning? There needs to be no swooning in private.
Actually… nor in public.
This needs to be a swoon-free zone.
Okay, let’s not panic. It’s the trauma bonding. I’m just a little attached after last night. No one else knows the full extent of what went down with the toad. They all think he’s a toxic asshole because of the cousin cheating thing and his general dickish personality, but Swayze knows everything.
Well, almost everything anyway.
It’s natural to feel closer to him because of that. It doesn’t mean anything.
We’re friends.
We joke.
That’s all.
We just need to keep things normal and friend-like. I got this.
“Oh yeah? What words would you use to describe me? Pain in your ass? Wrecking ball? Ridiculous?”
Standing with my hands on my hips, dressed in his T-shirt, with furry unicorns on my feet and my wild bed hair in total disarray, I probably do look pretty freakin’ ridiculous.
He smirks as he stands. “Those slippers are pretty ridiculous.” His eyes stay fixed on mine as he takes a step toward me. “But you’re also smart.”
Step.
“Sassy.”
Step.
“Insanely sexy.”
My heart thumps hard at those words.
He takes another step.
My breath hitches at his proximity, the intensity of his gaze still fixed on mine, making my skin prickle in tiny little goose bumps.
One more step and we’ll be nose to nose.
Will he kiss me?
“And a total pain in my ass.” He scoops me up and throws me back on the bed, laughing as he strolls out to our pool.
I’m not in the least bit disappointed that he didn’t kiss me.
Friends don’t kiss.
Not unless they’re faking it while others are present anyway.
Yeah, remember those rules, Mia? The ones you wanted to set? Now get in the fucking shower and go do some work.
Swayze’s occupied with his phone outside on our deck, so now’s the ideal time to jump in and have the quickest shower ever.
I still can’t believe I didn’t realize until I was butt naked standing under the spray that there’s a freakin’ window in there that opens straight out to the bedroom. It’s like something out of the Red Light District in Amsterdam.
I was half tempted to slut drop with the soap.
If he hadn’t been napping yesterday, he’d have gotten an eyeful. Thank fuck I booked that wax before we left because there’s no room for secrets here.
I don’t need Swayze watching me shave my armpits, thank you very much.
Or my cooch for that matter.
But I coooould mess with him a little.
Rummaging through my laptop bag, I pull out my trusty pack of Post-its and quickly scrawl a note on one, sticking it on the glass outside the shower.
Snickering to myself—how very Bart Simpson of me—I strip and step inside, sighing as the warm spray hits my skin and melts away all the remaining tension in my shoulders.
Swayze stands, phone to his ear, and walks inside, his eyes widening when they meet mine before he drops his head and hightails it to his bag. He grabs a file and practically bolts back outside.
I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t contain it.
The man has fucked me, but just blushed at seeing me naked in the shower. You can’t write this shit.
He’ll love my Post-it then.
Rinsing off the remaining suds, I towel off and walk over to my case again.
Was it necessary to pack twenty bikinis for a two-week trip?
No.
Did I do it anyway?
Naturally.
I’d been buying them for half the year, stashing and forgetting them… sooo now I own enough bikinis to last me a lifetime.
I tried to narrow them down, I really did. But they all serve different purposes.
Some are tiny for better tanning, the more family-friendly ones—because we absolutely don’t need a nip slip in front of the parents. Mom would flip her shit if she saw my nipple piercing. The rest are just fun, and we could all do with a bit of fun.
So here we are.
After yesterday’s shit show, I think I’m overdue a little fun today, so I’m gonna live on the wild side with a little leopard print number. Halter neck, it makes the girls look outstanding, if I do say so myself, and it has a flirty little skirted bottom.
It’s a little cheeky, buuuut Swayze just saw me naked. He’ll survive a little ass cheek.
Strolling past, laptop in hand, I flash him a smile before sitting cross-legged on the pool bed, facing him.
“Hi, roomie.” I grin up at him. I’m supposed to be working, not messing with him, but he looks delightfully ruffled, his wild hair in total disarray now, like he was tearing his hands through it.
It’s cute.
He’s cute.
I won’t tell him that, though. We’ve all heard his rant about why men don’t like to be called cute before. Cute is for puppies and babies, blah blah.
“Hi, Vixen.” He recovers well, a wicked smirk stretching across his stubbled jaw, but I see those pink-tipped ears.
“Vixen, huh? I thought I was your angel?”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Angel’s only for when you're a good girl. You look anything but good right now.” His grin looks downright predatory as he splays his muscular legs out in front of him, looking every inch the Deputy Heartthrob I’ve come to know.
“Maybe I like to live on the wild side.”
I hold his gaze for a split second too long, the air whipping around us, heavy and charged.