Chapter 7 Beauty, Beast, and Bunny #3
"He's a player." I add sweetly, letting the double meaning hang. "In every sense of the word. And trying to turn him into something he's not? That's just going to make everyone miserable. Especially you."
Vivienne stands so abruptly her chair scrapes. "West, it was lovely to see you. I hope you'll reconsider your mother's suggestion about the firm, but I understand if your... current situation makes that complicated."
She's gone before West can respond, her linen perfection retreating across the pool deck at impressive speed.
I wait until she's out of earshot before turning to West.
He's staring at me.
"One girl, three guys?" he says faintly.
"I panicked."
"You told her I like variety."
"You do like variety. You liked it last night when I—"
He covers my mouth with his hand, his eyes bright with something between horror and laughter. "Stop talking."
I lick his palm.
He doesn’t pull his hand away, but his expression shifts—heat replacing humor. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Cooper.”
I nip lightly at his thumb.
His breath stutters, and suddenly we’re not joking anymore. The air between us thickens, charged, the morning’s no feelings conversation feeling very far away.
“Jane.” It comes out rough. Barely a word.
I let his hand go, my heart hammering. “Did it work?”
“Did what work?”
“The sabotage. Is she going to tell your mother to back off?”
He blinks, clearly forcing his brain to switch tracks. “She’s going to tell my mother I’m dating an unhinged superfan with boundary issues. And that I lack judgment.”
“Perfect.”
His mouth curves. “It was insane. You’re terrifying.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“I think it is.” He stands, tugging me up with him. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the casita.” His voice drops, dark and deliberate. “I need to thank you properly for that performance.”
Warmth crawls up my neck. “I thought we were sticking to the plan. Strategy first.”
“Strategy can wait.” He’s already walking, fingers threaded through mine. “Right now, I need to get you somewhere private before I do something wildly inappropriate by this pool.”
I follow him, my skin buzzing, the morning’s careful boundaries completely forgotten under the weight of his attention.
No feelings, I remind myself.
But when we reach the casita and he backs me against the door, his mouth finding mine with urgent precision, I’m starting to think no feelings might be the biggest lie either of us has told.
We don’t make it to the bedroom.
The door. The couch. Finally, the shower.
Our desperation colliding into something that feels too good to be temporary.
Afterward, I’m sprawled across his chest on the bathroom floor, both of us breathing hard, the tile cool against my overheated skin.
I trace a scar along his ribs—some old hockey injury—and a laugh slips out of me, unguarded.
“What’s so funny?”
“We just engaged in some… extremely vigorous Zamboni parking.”
His mouth quirks. “Vigorous. I’m flattered.”
“Very vigorous.” I prop myself up. “Multiple times. Multiple locations.”
His hand slides up my spine. “I’m not complaining.”
"Neither am I." I rest my chin on his chest. "But we should probably get dressed. Don't you have that groomsmen thing soon?"
"Golf with Blake." He grimaces. " Pre-bachelor-party bonding.”
"Perfect opportunity to observe him."
“Or a perfect opportunity for him to behave, knowing I’m watching.” West sits up, taking me with him, settling me in his lap. “Which is why I think we execute phase one of the Scarlett plan.”
"Provoke jealousy? She’s golfing too?"
"Yes. She’ll be there. Playing devoted wedding planner while actually being his mistress.”
West’s hands are doing distracting things to my hips. "I’ll call Natalie and make sure she shows up as well."
I focus through the pleasant haze of his touch. "How?"
“The bride needs to approve rehearsal dinner seating this afternoon. I’ll suggest the clubhouse—neutral ground, air-conditioned, impossible to escape.” His smile sharpens. "Blake will have to choose between paying attention to his mistress or his fiancée."
“And he’ll choose Natalie.”
“Because the wedding’s in four days and he can’t risk suspicion.” West nods. “Scarlett will notice. And hurt people make mistakes.”
“That’s… actually brilliant.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all morning.” He kisses my shoulder. “Between rounds of vigorous activities.”
"Multitasking. Impressive."
"I'm motivated." His expression shifts, serious now. "I want Blake caught, Jane. Not just for your job. For Natalie. She deserves better than this."
"She does." I touch his face, feeling the scratch of stubble under my palm. "Thank you for helping."
"Thank you for making Vivienne run screaming." He grins, boyish and bright, and my heart does something dangerous in my chest. "The puck bunny routine was inspired."
"Sorry about mixing up the sports metaphors and terminologies. I genuinely don't know the difference between hockey and baseball, other than the obvious."
"I know. That's what made it perfect."
He stands, lifting me with him effortlessly, I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking.
“For the record,” he says, carrying me toward the bedroom, “we don’t hit home runs.”
"What do you hit?"
"The back of the net." His mouth curves. "Want me to show you?"
I laugh. “Why does that make me picture being tied up?”
“That says more about you than me. And don’t forget, you're the one who said I handle my stick well."
"I was in character!"
"Sure you were." He sets me on the bed, and I catch his hand before he can pull away.
"West?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. With Blake."
He goes still, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, it feels like something important might be said.
Instead, he leans down, kissing me soft and slow. “You too, Cooper.”
Then he’s dressing, the moment slipping away with practiced ease.
I watch him, memorizing the way confidence lives in his body. He catches me staring.
“See something you like?”
"Maybe."
"Save that thought." He shrugs into his polo, then leans down one more time. “I’ll text you after golf.”
He’s gone before I can answer.
I curl into the bed that still smells like him, skin buzzing.
No feelings, I remind myself.
But that ship sailed somewhere around the moment he caught me by the pool on Day One.
I’m in trouble.
Big trouble.
And the worst part?
I think I like it.
Very much.