Chapter 13
Ruby
I WANTED TO PUSH BACK.
I wanted to ignore the flutter in my stomach and pretend my pulse hadn’t just tripped over itself.
But I couldn’t.
Because from the moment I spotted Sebastian from afar, I knew that, once again, he’d sensed what I needed and come through.
Usually, that happened in bed. He always knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed, and when.
But lately—and I couldn’t pinpoint when that lately had begun—I had to admit it wasn’t just there. He did it in moments that mattered even more.
But this—this topped everything else.
Which only made me want to resist his entry into a realm that had always been so independently mine.
But I wanted him there.
Worse. I needed him there.
Here.
“So?” he asked.
“What?” I blinked, still lost in my own thoughts.
He was watching me, waiting for an answer.
“Right. Yeah. I can assign you one of the vacant cabins,” I said. “To work in. And for you to, um ... stay in.”
“Great. I’m good to go,” Sebastian said, adjusting the duffel on his shoulder.
I made a mental note that me knowing this bag so well wasn’t a great sign. Before I could overthink that, I motioned for him to follow. We cut across the gravel path and through the garden without talking, the late afternoon air swathed in sweet honeysuckle.
When we reached Sea Glass Cabin—cozy, quiet, with ocean view through paned windows and gauzy white curtains—I unlocked the door with my master key and stepped inside. “There’s Wi-Fi. Good light. And no one’s booked until next month.”
Sebastian set his bag down, glanced around once, then turned to me. “We were here once before.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat.
Sebastian gave me a side-smirk that edged into an amused, low chuckle, like he was silently teasing, forgot which man you brought here?
I wanted to say that in the last couple of years—since he started coming around more than three times a year—there’d hardly been anyone. Two or three, if that. But I just rolled my eyes and smiled back.
Leaning against the doorframe, I said instead, “So ... you just flew in without warning. How’d you know?”
He gave me a look that was frustratingly unreadable and calm. “You said you were fine. That usually means you’re not.”
My breath caught somewhere between my chest and my pride. “I did? I don’t remember saying that.”
“Might have sensed it.”
“You were already at the airport, weren’t you?”
That smirk again. Infuriating. Familiar.
“So you dropped everything based on a gut feeling?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t dropped anything. The current phase of the project I’m leading is mostly analysis. I can do that from anywhere. A load optimization review doesn’t require lab work.”
“Right.” I nodded like the professional lingo meant something to me. It didn’t. But the fact that he’d come all this way meant too much.
He looked at me, unfaltering and direct. “And it wasn’t a gut feeling.”
“Thanks, Sebastian.” My voice came out thick, choked with emotion. It’s nothing, I told myself. Any help right now would have moved me like that.
I left him to settle in and went back to the main house. Fifteen minutes later, I returned with a tray—wraps, a slice of pie, an organic soda, and silverware. He took it with a quiet “Thank you,” already mid-sketch on some 3D software on his laptop.
“I’ll come find you when I’ve got something,” he mumbled, lost in the math, barely glancing up.
I nodded and left, exhaling the second I was outside.
My fingers had itched to touch his arm when I set the tray down. I’d leaned forward instinctively to breathe him in. God. I hadn’t realized how much I missed his scent. The steady presence of him. His touch.
How come his touch, after this many years, wasn’t just familiar, but still igniting and searing? And the sex, instead of becoming stale, only grew hotter with time.
I shook it off.
He was here to help. And I was just relieved. And horny.
Nothing more.
Back in my house, I went over color palettes, got back to the bakery vendor about our breakfast baskets, ensuring he send extras for the workers, and replied to an email from a repeat guest who wanted their same cabin “but with less direct sunlight.” Whatever the hell that meant.
After a few more payroll and accounting emails, I finally flopped my laptop onto the couch, spoke to my my mom and Alan, who insisted on being on speaker, like a joint press conference, and usually wasted half the call arguing over what I’d actually said.
Alan was my mom’s partner—soft-spoken, polite, the kind of man who wore cardigans in summer.
They’d met five years ago in a doctor’s waiting room, which was about as romantic as a flu shot.
A decade older, widowed, grown kids of his own, I suspected they’d picked each other because it was better than growing old alone.
That wasn’t love. That was two people choosing company over quiet.
Maybe, in a way, that was her version of friends with benefits.
Exhausted, I opened the group chat. “How’s everyone?” I texted.
Evangeline replied first, as always. “I’m okay here. Two bridal orders due Friday, but nothing unmanageable. You?”
“Sorry for cutting back on my orders, Evie.”
“Are you kidding? Get the inn ready first.”
“About that ... things went south, but Sebastian showed up to help.”
Rio appeared right then. “Omg. WHAT. Wait. Explain.”
“The contractor tried to screw me over.”
“So Seb came in like some engineer Batman?” Rio wrote.
I never called him Seb or Seba. Always Sebastian. Even when I moaned and screamed his name.
“He prefers Superman. Not Snyder’s version. But yeah.”
“We don’t understand the ins and outs of your Marvel geekiness,” Eve wrote.
“That’s DC, even I know that,” Rio replied with a winking emoji.
“Anyway, he’s literally doing recalculations now. I don’t even know how to thank him.”
A row of emojis came in from Rio—laughing tears, then water drops, a peach, an eggplant, and a tongue. “Sure you do,” she added.
“Haha,” I typed back. “That goes without saying. But you know what I mean.”
“Nope, we really don’t,” Evangeline wrote. “Wanna send him a bouquet?”
“He’s not her grandmother,” a fourth name popped in.
“Daphne!!” Pretty much all three of us typed at once.
“Sorry I missed the whole saga. Things were ... rough. I’m here, though.”
“Don’t worry, babe. Take care of yourself first,” I typed.
We knew better than to ask Daphne about work over text.
And since none of them pressed further about Sebastian—though I knew they were dying to—I figured they’d save the grilling for our next face-to-face.
An hour later, I called him.
“You decent?” I asked, the phone pressed to my ear.
His dry, tired, husky chuckle hit me right between my legs. “I have a full draft and three backups,” he said. “Come see.”
By the time I made it to his cabin, the sky was pitch black, broken only by the brush of deep blue the half-moon left behind. The nearby ocean and the crickets seemed to compete over who’d lull the world to sleep first. I knocked once and stepped inside without waiting.
Sebastian was sitting in the yellow armchair I remembered buying—soft cushioning, deep, with wide armrests. His laptop rested on his thighs. The tray I’d brought earlier sat empty on the desk beside him, save for the crumpled soda can and a half-eaten slice of pie.
He looked up at me. Brown hair ruffled like he’d run his hands in it too often, his warm brown eyes tired, and one knee bouncing just slightly like his brain hadn’t stopped moving since I left.
“Hey,” I said, more softly than I meant to.
He closed the laptop halfway. “Hey. You ready for this?”
I crossed the small room and sat beside him on the armrest. “Show me.”
He angled the screen toward me and flipped through the digital renderings. “The old plan underestimated the cumulative weight of the roof plus the renovations over the years. So I ran new load calcs—horizontal and vertical distribution.”
“Of course you did,” I said, trying to follow, failing a little.
He flipped to the next drawing. “So instead of forcing the joists to bear more than they were ever designed for, I’m adding concealed steel reinforcement here and here and here,”—he pointed—“but from the inside, so the outer walls still look original.”
I blinked. “You came up with this today?”
He looked up. The years had left subtle marks on his forehead, making him even more dangerously handsome. “I started thinking about it last week,” he admitted. “Got serious on the flight.”
I studied the plan, but even without the drawings and notations, I knew I could count on it and him, even with my eyes closed. “This would save the building? Stop the sagging?”
“It’ll do more than that. It’ll hold.”
I exhaled. “I should hire you permanently.”
He smirked without looking away from the screen. “You couldn’t afford me.”
“You sure?”
Our eyes met. For a second too long.
I shifted slightly, my thigh brushing his forearm.
His knee had stopped bouncing.
I glanced down at the plans again. But I didn’t see them. Not really. Not anymore.
I rose slowly and took a few steps back.
Sebastian leaned slightly back in the chair, eyes lifting to mine, watching me like he already knew something had shifted.
Without a word, I reached under the hem of my blue sundress and slid my panties down, slowly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact. The lace skimmed down my legs. I let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.
His gaze darkened.
I edged closer.
His hands were resting on the chair’s armrests, and he was perfectly still, waiting to see what I’d do next.
I took the laptop from him and placed it on the table next to the tray, then straddled him without hesitation, settling on his thighs.
Sebastian grasped my hips, grounding us both.
I leaned in and kissed him.
But just for a moment. Even though I missed his taste and wanted more.
I took off his shirt and opened his jeans without taking my eyes off him.
He gripped my dress and took it off me.
I wasn’t wearing a bra.
We used the opportunity to tug down his pants and boxers.
He was hard and ready, and all I wanted was him inside me. Deep. Hard. Now.
My knees bracketing his hips, my hands clutching his shoulders, I lifted myself, then sank down—slowly at first, stretching around him until he filled me entirely.
We both groaned.
Sebastian clasped my ass then used his elbows to push my thighs closer around his hips so that I’d fit even tighter around him.
I started to move—grinding down, then lifting and dropping in a rhythm that got rougher fast.
The armchair thudded softly beneath us, and I knew Sebastian’s fingers would leave marks on my hips as his hands gripped and guided me, matching every move as I rode him, chasing the edge.
His mouth trailed down my throat to my chest and found my nipple. He licked and sucked and flicked his tongue on one breast, then the other, releasing one hand to cup it.
I was close—so close—when his hand slid down from my breast and his finger found my clit—circling and rubbing slow, faster, sure, devastating. And just right. Because—bar our very first time when we both didn’t know shit—he always knew when and how and how much.
I moaned so hard, unbothered by how far my voice carried outside.
“Fuck, Ruby,” Sebastian groaned, making me shatter, my whole body clenching around him.
He gripped me harder, slamming up into me. “I love fucking you when you’re coming. So. Fucking. Tight,” he growled, thrusting, until he was coming too, hot, deep, spilling inside me.
The only man I’d ever let inside me bare. And knowing I was the only woman he’d ever taken that way. The pill was our safety.
We stayed like that, gasping, fastened together, my fingers threaded through his hair, his lips grazing my shoulder, his arms warm around me.
When our breathing evened, we tilted our heads back, and my gaze found his.
We hadn’t kissed while we fucked, but now, with our eyes locked, we leaned in, and our lips met.
We kissed slow, unhurried. There was no hunger. We were spent, sated, and somehow, that made the kiss deeper, more tender and honest.
We kissed like neither of us wanted to let go, like we were both replacing words with taste. Words we couldn’t say.
When he pulled back, my heart was beating even more wildly. I hurried to slide off his lap and reached for my dress.
He grabbed a tissue from the side table, handling what needed handling without a word.
I pulled the dress over my head, smoothing it down, feeling his eyes on me.
He stood up and zipped his pants. Our eyes locked.
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’ll sleep in here tonight,” he said.
I nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. That’s why I gave it to you.”
But the words didn’t sit right in my mouth. They tasted flat. As if other words wanted to come out, but instead, I just said what I was supposed to say. Like I was parroting the version of this that should have made sense. That used to.
Maybe he felt it too when we kissed, and this was his way of nudging us back toward normal—to hit the reset button.
A part of me—one I didn’t want to name—wanted him to come back to the cottage with me. Or ask me to stay.
Foolish.
“I should go. Check on a few things,” I said, looking for my phone, picking up my panties, breaking eye contact.
He didn’t stop me.
And I didn’t look back.
But outside, the air felt different. Cooler. Or maybe that was just the hollow space I hadn’t noticed inside me until now.