Chapter 27 #3
I walk back inside, the sudden warmth of the suite wrapping around me. Hank is completely passed out on the velvet couch, belly-up and snoring, his front paw twitching like he’s mid-dream. I glance at him with a smile and head toward the champagne sitting in its chilled silver bucket.
The bottle is sweating, elegant in a way that feels unnecessary and perfect. I grab it carefully along with the two glasses perched beside it, then turn to face Sawyer again.
“We should take it out to the jacuzzi.”
His mouth curves, slower this time. “Wren Wilding. You’re living large tonight.”
I let out a soft laugh, maybe a little breathless. “We’re only going to have this view for a couple of nights. Might as well enjoy it.”
He raises both hands in mock surrender, but his expression shifts—something warmer hiding just beneath the teasing. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I like it.”
I look down, swallowing the ridiculous smile threatening to spread across my face, and pretend to fuss with the bottle instead.
I catch sight of the bubbling water through the glass door again, and that’s when I’m grateful that I remembered to pack a swimsuit.
I’d stuffed it into the side pocket of my bag without thinking much about it.
I wasn’t expecting anything fancy. I’d thought maybe, if we got lucky, there’d be a tiny hotel pool hidden somewhere on the lower level.
Chlorine, cold tile, kids screaming. Not this.
Not a private jacuzzi on a balcony eighteen stories above the city.
Sawyer grabs his swim trunks and disappears into the bathroom with a soft click of the door closing behind him.
I walk over to my duffel, unzipping the side pocket where I packed my one-piece. Black, high neckline, full coverage. Not exciting, but reliable. A swimsuit you’d wear around in-laws or to summer camp.
I reach in, my fingers brushing nylon. But when I pull it out and actually see what’s in my hand, I nearly stop breathing.
“ No ,” I whisper in a panic. “No no no no no—absolutely not.”
Dangling from my fingers is not my modest, practical swimsuit.
It’s a red bikini. A strappy red bikini. So strappy it might as well come with instructions. The top is barely two triangles held together by dental floss. The bottoms are somehow worse. It’s almost…theoretical. The concept of a swimsuit, rather than an actual one.
I stare at it, horrified.
This has Lark or Miller written all over it. Bold font. Underlined. They were the ones who helped me pack. Who offered to “lay everything out” for me. I hadn’t double-checked. A rookie mistake.
I hold the thing up between two fingers like it might bite me. I am going to murder them. Not figuratively. Full-on spoon-to-the-eye-sockets murder.
Just then, my phone buzzes—again—from the bed where I’d dropped it earlier. It’s been going off for the past five minutes, but I finally go check it.
The Wild Ones Family Group Chat
Lark: ?? sooooo how’s your romantic getaway going, Mrs. Hart?? ??
Miller: Do you like your new swimsuit? I thought the red would look so good with your hair ?? You’re welcome btw
Ridge: Who keeps adding Millie to the FAMILY chat??
*Miller has removed Ridge from The Wild Ones Family Group Chat*
Lark: Miller!??
*Lark has added Ridge to The Wild Ones Family Group Chat*
Ridge: Unreal
Miller:???? that’s for Ridge
Ridge: ?? that’s for Millie
Miller: ??????????
Ridge: What the hell does that mean?
Miller: It’s me driving myself off a cliff
Ridge: ??
Boone: Please don’t send any swimsuit photos in here. I’m begging.
Miller: Don’t act like you wouldn’t die to see Dr. Thor Hart in a pair of those tiny euro swim briefs ??
Sage: That is completely unhinged and I’m living for it
Ridge: So you like your men in briefs Mills? You’re in luck. I could send you a pic of the ones I’m in right now ??
Sage: Ew!! You are foul. Do NOT send any pictures Ridge??
Miller: I’m with Sage
Boone: I’m also with Sage
Lark: This was supposed to be about Wren ??????
Mom: Hello?? Is anyone there? Can someone tell me how to open the group messages again, they’re not showing up on my phone and I think I hit the wrong button.
Ridge: Mom you’re literally in the group chat right now?????♂?
Mom: Well how do I reply?
Boone: You just did ??
I stare at the screen for a full five seconds, then toss the phone onto the nightstand with a thud and mutter, “I’m going to kill them all. Slowly. ”
The door to the bathroom clicks open, and I immediately shove the red monstrosity behind my back.
Sawyer steps out barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of white swim trunks that hang low on his hips.
His chest is bare—broad and tan, every inch of him defined like he was carved with intention.
His abs are cut into sharp lines, ones that make you stare without meaning to.
Lower down, a thin trail of dark hair disappears beneath his waistband, and I have to physically stop myself from following it with my eyes.
His arms look like they could pin someone down with zero effort—and considering what I’ve seen him carry around at the ranch without breaking a sweat, they probably could. His whole body moves like he’s not just strong, but used to it. Every inch of muscle has earned its place.
It’s annoying. And distracting. And it’s totally unfair that a person can just walk around looking like…well, that.
His eyes land on me immediately, and his brow lifts. “You good?”
“Great,” I say with a timid smile. “Fantastic, actually.”
It’s way too many syllables and way too much enthusiasm for someone who’s actively debating whether she can drown herself in the champagne bucket to avoid putting on a glorified shoelace.
Sawyer smirks. Not in a mean way. Just in a you’re-a-terrible-liar way.
“You can’t back out now, Wilding. This whole thing was your idea,” he says as he reaches for one of the bottles of champagne, tucks it under his arm like he’s done this before, and heads for the balcony. “Come on. I’ll be waiting.”
The glass door clicks shut behind him, and I look down at the bikini again. It’s red. Very red. Minimal coverage. Maximal risk of trauma.
I blow out a slow breath.
This is about to get very interesting.