17
Ruby
I WOKE UP WAY TOO EARLYto warmth pressed against my back, an arm snug around my waist, and fingers splayed across my ribs and stomach like they’d always belonged there. Like we hadn’t woken up yesterday morning in separate cabins.
I didn’t move. Just sank back against him, to the rhythm of his breathing, and soaked it in.
After a while, I rolled over to face him and kissed his lips.
Sebastian stirred. “Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
I smiled when his eyes fluttered open. Misty golden-brown.
“So you’re a cuddler now?” he rasped.
“Once in a blue moon. You complaining?” I grinned.
“You know that blue moons occur more often than it’s commonly—”
I kissed him again, mid-sentence, and this time he kissed me back. Lazy and unhurried.
I wanted him again. Morning breath and all. Not just because his morning erection tempted me. I craved thatcloseness from last night. The one I’d given up when I left his cabin and went back to my cottage the night before.
I wanted that quiet ache he eased without even trying. So I kissed him deeper, more urgent, pulled him closer, and didn’t stop until we were tangled in each other all over again.
Later, I didn’t even flinch when he grabbed a clean shirt from his section of my closet.
Okay, maybe I flinched a little.
But then I caught myself watching him in the mirror, and—God help me—I was smiling contentedly.
“Careful,” I said, voice light as he passed by me with his toothbrush. “I might start charging you rent.”
He just smiled. Unbothered.
I was remindingmyselfof this, more than him.
And somehow, I enjoyed our breakfast, which we prepared together without burning anything down. We even walked up to the main building side by side, like we were used to doing that sort of thing.
Except I didn’t do that sort of thing.
Except—I kind of was.
Good thing I had crisis after crisis to deal with.
We had new check-ins into the cabins, and despite my advance notice and compensation, the couple in cabin two complained about the breakfast room and restaurant being closed. The three friends in cabin six wanted a different spa than the one in Coral Bay that I’d booked for them because it didn’t have a chakra-balancing sound bath, which, I learned, was mandatory.
The linen vendor delivered everything and tried to dump it in the lobby, even though I’d asked him just the day beforeto delay the delivery. And I had to rearrange shifts to accommodate two of my staff who were temporarily taking on full-time hours elsewhere.
At some point, I heard Sebastian’s voice and stepped out of my office to find him outside, helping the crew guide beams through the upstairs window while Dave stabilized it from the scaffolding. Later, I saw him carrying plywood sheets up the stairs to the damaged wing.
In both cases, I had to remind myself that ogling your friends-with-benefits while they’re lifting heavy things wasn’t a good idea.
My first instinct was to open the Beach, Please group chat and text my friends. I needed to share, vent, distract myself. I didn’t, though. It was too dangerous now that they all suspected I’d crossed over—gone fromfeelings infidelto whatever the hell came afterexclusive sleepoversandsharing morning coffee like it wasn’t a big deal.
But not ten minutes later, while I was watching the large dumpster brimming with construction debris, a dust cloud hovering above it, the chat came to life. A message from Evangeline.
“How’s everyone doing?”
