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 cheekyYes, 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, blueand 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 didnotneed 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.”
“Youcare,” 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.”
