Chapter 5
Ruby
“I’ll jump in the shower real quick,” Sebastian said twenty minutes later.
I was rearranging a tray of leftover pastries on the counter after we munched a few.
“Want to join me?” he added, sliding an arm around my waist.
“Not this time.” I leaned in and bumped my nose against his. “I have to check in with Sandra at reception and make sure everything’s ready for tonight’s dinner crowd. Which reminds me ... the deck. I need to replace the whole thing. It’s starting to rot.”
“I’ll swing by the main building before I head to my parents,” he said. “Take another look at the ceiling, too.”
“Okay. See you there.”
I watched him disappear toward the bathroom, tugging his T-shirt off as he walked. That wide back and those stupidly perfect shoulders made me nearly regret skipping the shower invite. Two orgasms less than an hour ago, yet I was still greedy for him.
He’d be in a fresh tee later from the small stash he kept in my closet.
Yep. Sebastian had a shelf in my closet.
I wasn’t proud of it.
But when he came over—which used to be only a handful of times a year, and every few weeks in the last two—he sometimes spent the night.
Again, not proud of it.
But it kind of happened ... somehow. A few years back, we woke up in the morning together, actually holding each other—something I swore would never happen again.
But then it happened again. And then again.
And then it became a thing. So he started bringing a bag of clothes just in case, including a pair of board shorts, because we also started going to the beach together.
And after a while, I got sick of it sitting on the floor, so the thing got a shelf.
I was a practical woman.
ON MY WAY TO THE MAIN building, I pulled out my phone and opened my friends’ group chat, which we aptly named “Beach, Please.”
“I think the storm damage is officially ugh,” I typed. “I’ve called in contractors.”
Evangeline replied fast, probably mid-flower arrangement prep. “Oh no. How bad is it??”
“Two leaky cabins. Serious damage to the top floor of the main house. Roof’s sagging in one corner.”
“Shit. That’s serious. How can we help?” Rio typed.
“Want me to come interrogate the contractors?” Daphne chimed in.
I grinned, slowing on the path, not far from the entrance. “Quiet day at the Coral Bay police?”
“I wish,” Daphne replied, then went quiet. Her status changed to offline a moment later.
“Need flowers? Muffins? Emotional support sugar of any kind?” Evangeline wrote.
“Oh, I think if any of the crew is hot, Ruby will find her sugary treat herself.” Rio inserted a tongue emoji and a winky face.
I could have said that Sebastian was here and helping. With that, too. But there was no point in fanning the fire. Rio, especially, already suspected I was tracking his arrivals more precisely than the guest bookings.
“#sorrynotsorry,” Rio added before I could reply.
“But seriously, Rub, say the word and we’ll help.
I can bring scented candles. Lavender and chamomile for a calming effect.
” She worked at a health shop in Riviera View and made her own products, which I featured in the guest rooms. “We haven’t set a date yet, but the inn’s where I’ll be married, so I’ll do whatever it takes,” Rio added, along with a heart-eyes emoji.
“Appreciate the chaos energy, ladies, I might need it. I’ll keep you posted,” I typed before shutting the chat down as I reached the front door.
“Hey, Sandra. Did the couple in twelve find her bracelet?” I asked when I walked into the lobby.
She glanced up from the computer. “Yeah. And they apologized for accusing Dayna.”
Dayna, one of my permanent cleaning staff, didn’t deserve that. I exhaled. “You didn’t tell her about it, right?”
“Of course not.”
Sandra had a great smile. Efficient, friendly, generally solid—except for her creative list of last-minute absences. Last week, it was her cat’s therapy session. The week before, she needed a “personal reset day” because her favorite podcast ended.
Still. When she showed up, she was good.
“I can’t wait for those two to check out,” I muttered. “Guests like that always come with a sequel.” If they’d just canceled, they’d have spared us the headache, and I could’ve donated the extra food, like I always did with last-minute no-shows.
I kept walking, heading down the corridor.
The three rooms on the ground floor were occupied, and out of the twelve on the upper floor, only six were still operational.
The other six had been closed for two weeks.
First came the smell, then the blistering paint near the ceiling.
And after the last storm, even the still-open rooms were starting to look a little suspicious.
Upstairs, I paused at the landing and breathed in. Yep. Still musty.
To my right, the closed-down rooms. To my left, those that were currently occupied.
Fifteen rooms in the main building, eight cabins scattered in the large garden. Twenty-three rooms total.
My little house used to function as the largest cabin, but about ten years ago, I made it into my home.
Now, only fifteen were bookable, and that number was about to massively drop.
This whole wing would have to shut down even if I took Sebastian’s advice and staggered things. Renovate in phases, stay open at half capacity, and push promos for the cabins.
By the time I circled back to the lobby, I heard his voice.
He was at the front desk talking to Sandra, leaning slightly over the counter.
Sandra was all smiles. She’d seen him a few times, and on his last visit she’d spotted us outside, by the car in the gravel forecourt, as her shift ended. I’d told her he was an old friend visiting from Houston. Which was true. Just not the full picture.
Now, he stood there freshly showered, his black T-shirt clinging to his shoulders and biceps, his arm resting casually on the counter.
Sandra’s gaze trailed down and back up again, her smile turning brighter.
And just like that, something sharp slid under my ribs.
He’s mine.
The thought punched through me. Possessive. Irrational. So unlike me.
I didn’t care what he did in Houston. Or who. I tried not to think about it. We weren’t exclusive. That was the whole point. I wasn’t the jealous type. Never had been.
But seeing someone else soak in his quiet confidence, the way his voice dropped when he said something funny, the way he made eye contact like he meant it ... yeah, that hit different.
And I hated that it did.
I marched toward the front desk. “Sandra, I’m calling a team meeting tomorrow afternoon for all permanent staff. We’re officially entering renovation mode, and I want everyone on the same page. Can you please send out an invite?”
Sandra got to her feet, as if my voice commanded her to. “Sure.” She smiled, but it was the professional kind, not the one she’d just given Sebastian.
I felt his gaze on my profile. I turned to look at him. “Follow me to the restaurant? You wanted to see the deck damage.”
He gave me a lopsided smile that was a silent equivalent to a cheeky Yes, ma’am.
I led the way, but as soon as we reached the hall that tucked us away from view, he caught my wrist and tugged me slightly back.
“I love it when you’re bossy,” he murmured against my cheek. “So fucking sexy.”
“It’s a place of business.” I flashed him a grin, then continued walking.
Sandra could bat her lashes all she wanted. He was mine.
I mentally slapped myself for the thought just as we reached the rear foyer that opened to the Coral Bay Bar & Grill.
The breeze drifting through the patio doors carried the scent of grilled shrimp, mixing with the salty air.
I crossed the restaurant floor, nodding at the staff, and stepped out onto the deck that stretched toward the path that led down to the beach.
Weathered wooden tables, charming in that deliberate coastal-rustic way, sat under beautiful fairy lights, and the ocean shimmered beyond, blue and smug like it knew it was the best view in town and would be forgiven for trying to rot my infrastructure.
Sebastian stopped next to me and took a deep breath. “God, I love this place,” he muttered.
I turned and watched his profile in the setting sun, feeling a tug in my chest. Which was unfair, because I did not need to melt at that right now. I averted my gaze back to the view.
“Me too,” I said quietly, then added before I could stop myself, “Got a one-star review last month. Hurt like a motherfucker.”
He turned to look at me, but I lowered my eyes to the deck boards.
“Said the room smelled weird and that the manager—aka me—promised it’d be handled.
I remember that couple. I moved them to another room immediately, left a bottle of wine and a fruit basket on the house.
” I gave a short laugh that didn’t feel like one. “Still posted it.”
“You care,” he said, his hand brushing the small of my back. “You’re five stars in any book that matters.”
His words wrapped around my heart, and my throat clogged. I didn’t even realize how much I needed someone to say that.
“I guess it hurt because there was a grain of truth in it. The damp smell.” I gestured at the planks beneath us. “Take a look.” It was easier to focus on rot rather than feelings. Rot, I could fix.
I moved forward and pointed at the areas where the beams were chipped and warped. “And this is after we polish and seal it twice a year.”
“Rip it out. Replace it with composite boards.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, glancing back at the first few diners, politely smiling at a couple who noticed us, then turned to face the horizon again. “Want to stay for dinner?”
We ate here sometimes. That was the friends part of benefits with friends. Yep, the word order was right for us. For me. Or used to be. The labels kept shifting, the friends part had a way of sneaking ahead, like it didn’t know its place in our arrangement.
“Can’t. Heading to my parents’ tonight. But I’ll be back tomorrow. When’s the contractor with the engineer arriving?”
“Nine-ish.”