Forty-Five
It’s been twenty minutes, and he’s still at the kiddy’s table.
He’s sitting there, sleeves rolled up, top button undone, some five-year-old girl trying to braid a piece of his hair while another small child chants, “More bubbles! More bubbles!”
at full volume.
With a completely straight face, Nathan dips the wand back into the soapy liquid and blows another batch into the air.
I stop dead in my tracks, hands on my hips. I was coming over here to rescue him and do the whole noble girlfriend thing.
Now, I’m not so sure.
This man fits in over here. He’s nodding along as a toddler babbles a completely unintelligible story, murmuring, “That’s wild,”
at the right intervals.
I am both deeply concerned and weirdly attracted to him.
Nathan with children? Dangerous.
I march over. “Alright, fun police is here. Break it up, tiny humans. I need to borrow my boyfriend.”
Nathan looks up, one dark brow arching at me as he casually catches a flying bubble on the tip of his wand.
Who is this man?
The girl braiding his hair frowns. “You can’t have him yet. I’m not done.”
“Listen, kid. I will pay you actual money to let me have him back.”
Nathan snorts. “Bribing children, Sienna? That’s low.”
“You’re not helping.”
The little girl eyes me like she’s considering it. She’s my kind of girl.
Nathan leans back in his chair—which creaks in protest because it was not built for a man his size—and shrugs like he has nowhere better to be.
“It’s fine,”
he says. “I don’t mind.”
I blink.
Excuse me?
I came to rescue him. I put myself on this heroic mission, and he just rejected my help.
“Oh, you don’t mind?”
I echo, narrowing my eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you enjoying yourself?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s not so bad.”
Not so bad.
I glance around at the sticky-fingered chaos around him, at the little boy currently chewing on a crayon, at the four-year-old sitting in mashed potatoes, and then back at Nathan fucking Calloway.
“Blink twice if you need help.”
He bites back a smirk. “I’m good.”
Oh, hell no.
I grab his arm, my fingers digging into his forearm, and give him a very intentional tug. “Okay, fun time’s over, Daddy Daycare. Come on.”
The kids groan in protest.
Nathan just laughs.
He’s having fun, and he’s not even trying to fight it.
I’m losing my mind.
“Tell you what,”
he says, eyes gleaming with amusement as he finally stands to his full, unfairly tall height. “I’ll be back later, and we’ll start an ice cream heist.”
A chorus of gasps.
One boy, who wasn’t even playing before, yells, “You’re the coolest!”
Nathan winks.
Winks!
I yank him away before the kids can propose a lifetime contract.
As we head toward our table, I hiss, “What was that?”
“What?”
he says. “I’m good with kids.”
I glare up at him.
He grins, sliding his hand against my lower back. “You’re just mad they like me more than you.”
I scoff. “I am not.”
“You bribed them.”
“I tried to bribe them. There’s a difference.”
He leans in, his voice a deep whisper against my ear. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re still my favorite.”
I trip.
I actually trip.
Screw this man and his ability to make my brain short-circuit.
He catches me before I go down, his grip tightening. I need to start carrying a medical alert bracelet for moments like this.
“You okay there?”
His lips twitch.
I shove his arm, but it doesn’t budge. “Shut up.”
He grins again, and I hate how much I want to kiss it right off his face.
“I was going for a walk. I wanted to know if you wanted to join me?”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
Oh, for the love of God.
“Let’s…walk.”
He offers me his arm like a gentleman from an old film. I try not to smile too widely as I hook my arm through his. The crowd of wedding guests doesn’t pay us much mind. They’re too busy doing the Macarena or something equally horrifying.
We slip out of the ballroom doors into the resort’s lobby, quiet now except for a couple of staff tidying up, before we exit onto the terrace that overlooks the beach path.
It’s a relief. The night air is cool against my cheeks, the hush of the ocean soothing my frazzled nerves. My heels click against the tiled walkway as we descend toward the sand.
“You really are good with kids.”
Nathan glances at me. “You sound surprised.”
I shrug, keeping my gaze fixed on the soft glow of the path lights ahead of us. “I just didn’t know that about you.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
It’s a casual statement, not meant to be anything, but something about it presses against my ribs. A quiet ache. A reminder.
He’s right.
I don’t know much about him at all.
I know the way he kisses me, the way he can take my body, the way he holds my stare like he can see right through me.
I know he’s good under pressure, that he can fake his way through anything, that he’s sharp, sarcastic, and a little too smooth for his own good.
But I don’t know the little things. The more important things.
I don’t know what keeps him up at night or what he thinks about when he’s all alone.
I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat and push past it.
“Where is it you’re flying to tomorrow?”
I ask, keeping my voice light.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Chicago.”
“For how long?”
“A month.”
I kick at a loose shell on the path, watching as it tumbles onto the sand.
“And then it’s back to New York?”
He sighs on a long exhale, looking out toward the waves. “Not sure.”
His words settle between us, too heavy, too final, too inevitable.
“Julian stays in California, though, right?”
“Most of the time,”
he says. “He travels too, but I was always the one who didn’t mind it as much.”
I hum, nodding like it makes sense.
Like it doesn’t bother me.
Like it doesn’t make my stomach clench to realize that this is just…who he is.
Nathan isn’t a man who stays.
He moves.
From city to city, from deal to deal, from moment to moment.
And soon, from me.
We walk side by side, silent for a minute. The path is lined with subtle lights, but it still feels like we’ve stepped into a more private world.
He’s the one to break the silence. “Shouldn’t you be inside, living it up on the dance floor with your friends?”
I let out a short laugh, the kind that’s more ironic than amused. “They’re not my friends,”
I say, glancing at him sideways. “Not really. They used to be, I guess, back when we were all tied to Daniel. But once I left…”
I trail off, rubbing my arms. “I don’t blame them. People pick sides, right?”
Something in his expression darkens. “Then they were never real friends.”
“Maybe not. But it’s still weird being around them, you know?”
We reach the edge of the sand. I slip off my heels, letting my bare toes sink into the cool grains.
Nathan stands with me, arms folded, scanning my face. “They don’t deserve your headspace if they couldn’t be bothered to keep you in theirs.”
I force a half-smile, my chest tight with memories. “You should have been a therapist with quotes like that.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he sighs, leaning an elbow on a wooden railing that separates the path from the beach. “I don’t like that you think you’re some afterthought.”
Warmth rushes to my face. Damn him.
“Harper always jokes that she’d climb inside my womb if she could,”
I say, laughter bubbling. “She’s all in. That’s real friendship.”
“I can’t decide if that’s horrifying or sweet.”
“Little of both.”
I grin despite myself, then turn my attention to the waves. The roar of the ocean is comforting. “I never fit in here,”
I admit. “Not with Daniel’s crowd, not with anyone. New York was the first place I felt like I wasn’t a side character in someone else’s story.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, letting me process. The hush between us is weighted but comforting.
I don’t know why I say it, why I feel the need to tell him, but I do. “I was never anyone’s priority.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “That’s bullshit.”
“Is it? Daniel was with me because it was comfortable. My old friends liked me because I was part of the group. When I left, they barely even noticed. I was easy to replace. I loved the idea of what Daniel and I could be more than I ever loved him. That’s messed up, right?”
He waits, letting me breathe. “What about now?”
he finally asks, his voice gentler. “You ever find what you were looking for?”
The corners of my mouth twitch. “I found independence, a career I love, Harper, and the realization that being alone isn’t so bad. Actually, it can be nice.”
“Alone doesn’t mean lonely.”
“Exactly.”
We share a look that feels oddly profound, like we’re both walking the same tightrope. The ocean hushes around us, waves lapping in a soothing rhythm.
I rub my arms, gaze drifting to the water. The conversation has me feeling a little reckless. “Have you ever taken a swim in the ocean at night?”
He arches a brow. “Can’t say I ever got around to it. Why?”
I set my shoes on the sand, wiggling my toes. My heart is pounding. “Because I want to. Now.”
He shoots me a look. “You do know there’s a wedding reception you’re part of?”
I shrug. “I can dry off. Besides, we might not get another chance. The wedding ends tomorrow. Then you’re off to wherever you go next. Might as well live a little.”
“Sienna,”
he warns, stepping closer to me in the sand. “You’re not even wearing a bathing suit.”
He eyes my wine-colored gown, the subtle glow of the moon highlighting the silky fabric.
Christ, those eyes of his are lethal.
I feel my mouth curl upward as I slide one strap off my shoulder, then the other, my heart hammering.
“So?”
The breeze kisses my newly bared skin, raising goosebumps. God, I hope I’m not about to regret this. “Don’t tell me you’re some prude who can’t handle a little night swim.”
He mumbles a curse under his breath, glancing around. “You…holy—”
He exhales roughly, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you do this alone. If your family finds out I let you drown, they’ll never forgive me.”
“Then you’d better come with me.”
Before he can argue, I pick up my skirt and jog over the sand toward the shoreline. The ocean roars louder, and salt stings my nose. My heart is thrumming with excitement, or maybe terror. I chance a glance back. Nathan’s swearing under his breath, but he’s following me.
We reach the water’s edge, foamy waves curling at my ankles. Turning to face him, the wind lifts my hair around my face, and everything feels alive.
No regrets, Sienna. Live a little, right?
He stops in front of me, eyes flicking over my gown. “You’re insane.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of letting life pass you by?”
I ask. “Five minutes…just five minutes to live. To forget everything else?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, his gaze dark. “Sienna,”
he warns, but I see the spark in his eyes. “If you remove any more clothes, I’ll—”
A laugh trembles in my chest. I tug the bodice of my dress lower, feeling the cool air caress my skin. He’s looking at me like he’s about to spontaneously combust.
“You’ll what?”
I whisper, hooking the fabric over my hips, letting it slide an inch. My nipples bead against the slight breeze.
He takes one step forward, voice dropping to a growl. “I will take you right here, right now. I’m being serious, Sienna.”
My pulse leaps. Something hot coils in me.
“It’s about time,”
I say, my heartbeat thudding so hard I can hardly hear my own thoughts. I want to close the distance, press against him. The waves swirl around my ankles, higher with each crash.
He cups my jaw with one big hand, thumb tugging my bottom lip free from my teeth, and all I see is raw hunger in his eyes.
He leans in.
I think I might die here.
A sudden flash of light arcs across the shoreline, followed by a distant voice calling out, “Ma’am, you can’t do that here!”
We freeze, hearts pounding. I yank the bodice of my dress up. Nathan whips his head around, spotting a security guard marching toward us from a few yards away.
Without missing a beat, Nathan swings his arm in front of me, shielding my breasts with his forearm as best he can while I scramble to fix my dress.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
The guard’s voice carries again, closer now. “Ma’am? Sir? This beach is private at night. Resort policy. You can’t be doing that here.”
Nathan mutters a curse under his breath. “Pull up your dress,”
he hisses.
“I am!”
I snap, fumbling to put the straps in place.
“Hand me your heels.”
“What?”
“Just give me the damn shoes.”
I pass them over, adrenaline pounding in my ears.
Then, with terrifying ease and absolutely zero warning, Nathan grabs me by the waist and throws me over his shoulder.
I shriek. “Oh my God!”
“Shut up,”
he grunts, gripping my thighs.
“Nathan!”
I wheeze, bouncing as he takes off in a sprint. “Put me down—I’m going to pee myself—”
“Then pee in style,”
he huffs. “I’m not getting arrested tonight.”
My laughter explodes, wild and loud and completely uncontrollable. I’m dangling over his shoulder like a sack of sugar, my hair flopping in my face, my dress hiked up to kingdom come, and I cannot breathe I’m laughing so hard.
Nathan smacks my ass. Hard. “Jesus, woman. Laugh quieter.”
That only makes it worse. I’m howling, wheezing into his back like a lunatic, and he’s flat-out running, charging through the sand like some caveman.
We reach the stone path to the resort, my heels swinging from his other hand. Somewhere in the distance, the guard yells again, but Nathan doesn’t stop until we’re inside the lobby—sweaty, windblown, and wheezing from the effort.
He sets me down, and I immediately collapse against the nearest wall, clutching my ribs.
“I can’t—”
I gasp, wiping tears from my eyes. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
Nathan’s doubled over, hands on his knees, grinning like an idiot. “You’re certifiable.”
We snort-laugh like teenagers caught sneaking out after curfew, the kind of laughter that leaves your stomach sore and your cheeks aching.
He finally straightens, breath still short, and hands me my shoes. “Here. You should probably put these on before another guard arrests us for indecent exposure.”
I yank them on, cheeks burning. “I can’t believe I almost stripped on the beach.”
Nathan gives me a look that’s one part lust, one part exasperation. “I can. I’m shocked it took this long.”
A faint melody drifts from the ballroom behind us—soft, familiar, and unreasonably romantic.
At Last by Etta James.
For a second, we just stand there in the lobby, breathless from our great escape, clothes slightly askew, cheeks flushed from laughter and almost-sex-on-a-beach.
Nathan straightens and holds out his hand. “Dance with me?”
I glance toward the glowing ballroom. The music swells through the open double doors, wedding guests still lost in their own bliss. The light spills across the marble, but this corner of the lobby remains dim and quiet. Safe.
I hesitate. “We could get caught again.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The smirk’s there, but it’s gentler now. No longer just cocky. There’s something behind it—something vulnerable, like he’s asking for more than just a dance.
“Come on,”
he murmurs. “Five more minutes of living.”
My heart stutters. Five more minutes of pretending this is real. Five more minutes of forgetting that we started this whole thing on a cocktail napkin and a fake dating agreement.
But God help me, I want those five minutes.
I slide my fingers into his, and he tugs me gently into the shadows by the window, just out of view of the main ballroom. The music curls around us.
He slips one arm around my waist, the other hand still holding mine. I rest my palm on his shoulder, trying to pretend my legs aren’t jelly. We sway, just barely, the rhythm pulling us into a quiet orbit.
He leans in, his voice brushing against my ear. “Relax. It’s just a dance.”
We both know it’s not. Not when my skin burns where he touches me. Not when his breath hits my cheek and makes every nerve in my body scream.
The warmth of his palm spreads across my lower back, anchoring me. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of my dress. We move in slow, careful circles because I think if we move too fast, this whole thing will crack open and swallow us whole.
I tilt my face up to his.
He’s already looking at me.
His gaze holds mine, like he’s memorizing this. Like he knows something’s changing between us, and neither of us can stop it now.
The dress I almost stripped out of ten minutes ago still clings to me, damp at the hem. His shirt’s rumpled from throwing me over his shoulder. There’s salt in my hair, sand in my shoes, but somehow, this feels like the most perfect moment.
The song drifts to an end, replaced by something faster, but neither of us moves. His hands don’t drop. My body doesn’t step away. We hover, breathless and charged, caught in the space between just pretend and God, please mean it.
He’s still watching me when he finally speaks. “We should head back.”
My throat tightens, and my body hums because for the first time, I don’t want to play this game anymore.
“I don’t want to go back inside.”
My voice is steady.
No hesitation.
He stills.
There’s a beat where the silence holds its breath.
Then his hand slips into mine, fingers curling tight. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.
The air sparks between us as we walk toward the elevators. No one stops us. No one looks twice. Maybe they’re too wrapped up in their own night to notice two people falling into something they swore they wouldn’t.
The elevator dings. We step inside, and he presses the button for the third floor.
Still silent, we stand side by side, facing the steel doors.
When they open again, I can tell that his control is hanging by a thread as he reaches down and takes my hand in his.
His grip is firm.
Possessive.
When he steps out of the elevator and leads me down the hall, he doesn’t look back. He knows I’ll follow.
And I do.
God help me, I do.
No words. No second-guessing. Just a shared understanding.
We walk the length of the hallway to our suite, every step deliberate, my heart hammering in a staccato I can’t calm because inside that room, the lines we’ve drawn won’t matter anymore.
We both know it, and neither of us stops.