He scoffed and shook his head. “You haven’t changed. I mean, youhave,”—that sweeping gaze again—“but you’re still Ruby.”
I grinned at him, cocking my head. I knew right then that I wasn’t the only one who’d stepped into a different life, and that neither one of us was looking for anything serious.
“Heard from my mom you manage your aunt’s inn.”
That was Blueshore for you. Parents were the local grapevine. “Yeah. Coral Bay.”
“Amazing. Being in charge suits you.”
Later that night, in my little cottage, I discovered that while he turned his geekiness into a career, he wasn’t a geek in bed.
He was commanding. Focused. Obviously very experienced. Intense in a way that made my bones forget how to hold me. And he was delectable to look at and touch.
He didn’t rush. He moved with purpose. Every drag of his mouth, every thrust, the way his hands gripped—I forgot how to breathe or think.
He didn’t just know what he was doing. He touched me like he already knew what I liked—or was hellbent on finding out. And somehow, he got it exactly right.
And when he held my gaze while he was inside me, fucking me hard and rough like I wanted him to, I knew—Sebastian Sawyer fucked with intent.
Sebastian Sawyer was the best sex I’d ever had.
STILL WAS.
By the time Sebastian opened the door to his cabin, dressed and holding his tablet, I was halfway back to pretending I hadn’t grappled with anything.
“We should talk to Dave before the crew starts pouring concrete or ordering anything new,” he said, ready to walk out.
“Do you want your breakfast first?” I asked, nodding toward the basket.
“I’m good.” He took it from me, dropped it on the console, and grabbed a croissant before pulling the door shut.
He fell into step beside me, taking a big, hungry bite that shouldn’t have been distracting, but it was.
I led the way around the inn’s side path toward the gravel forecourt where Dave was already unloading the back of his truck.
“Morning,” I said as we approached.
Dave looked up. He didn’t exactly scowl, but his shoulders tensed like he expected a fight.
Sebastian went straight to it. “I wanted to follow up. I’ve run a few calculations and, as a start, we want to replace the support columns you spec’d. Especially near the northeast corner.”
Dave scratched the back of his head. “I talked to my guy again, and he said—”
“About that,” I cut in, straightening beside Sebastian. “I want to replace him. Sebastian’s taking over as the official engineer.”
Dave blinked. “He’s not part of ourusual crew.”
“He’s part of mine,” I said, my voice cool. “And I trust him.” I wanted to add that beyond being a top-notch professional, he was also dependable, perceptive, thoughtful, calm in the face of crisis—all things that crossed my mind as I spoke, but I didn’t think they’d matter to Dave as much as they did to me.
Dave muttered something under his breath.
“Right,” Sebastian took it from there, bringing up a 3D model of the load plan on his tablet. “This is it.”
I stood back and let them hash it out—Sebastian keeping his tone even but firm, Dave getting increasingly quiet as numbers started replacing excuses. It didn’t take long.
“Fine,” Dave eventually said. “I’ll call the supplier. We’ll need to push back the delivery of the roof trusses, and the timeline will be impacted. That’ll cost.”
“Do that,” Sebastian said. “Send us an updated cost estimate, and I’ll send you the new plan.”
