"That's right."
Jane squeezes my hand once—tight, quick, a signal I already understand—and leans into my side like she belongs there.
Because right now, she does.
Scarlett holds our gaze for another beat, then lifts her champagne in a mock toast. "How lovely for you both."
She turns and disappears down the hallway.
Jane and I stand there, hands linked, until the sound of her heels finally fades.
“She either set that up to ruin me,” Jane says quietly, “or so Blake would hear about it.” Not a question.
“Yeah.”
“So now she knows we’re staying together.”
“Now she knows.”
Jane exhales, a short, disbelieving sound that's halfway to a laugh. "I can't believe she walked in on us. Of all themoments."
"We weren't exactly doing anything," I point out.
Physically.
Mentally is another story. My brain had planned the next several hours in pleasurable detail.
She glances at me and I straighten my face. "I know. Logically. It was a massage."
Jane shakes her head slowly, more bemused than panicked. "I was so focused on watching Blake and Scarlett, I didn't even consider she'd be watching me." She lets out a breath. "Guess that's on me."
"She plays dirty," I nod.
Jane's mouth tightens—not angry, just thoughtful. "Yeah. She does."
I feel her thumb brush against my knuckles, grounding. "We probably shouldn't assume this was the last little surprise."
I look down at her. The heat from the table is still there—coiled, restless—but now it's threaded with something sharper. Awareness. Stakes.
She shifts, the sheet clutched tight at her chest, suddenly very aware she can't just stroll out the door the way I can.
Her eyes lift to mine. There's a flicker of humor there, thin but real. "Next time we do something that looks scandalous, I'd prefer to at least earn it."
My mouth curves despite myself. "Duly noted."
She exhales, then tightens her grip on my hand and tugs—just once. Not toward the door. Toward her.
"Now, turn around again, while I change," she says lightly.
Lightly.
I step closer, lowering my voice. "Careful," I murmur. "You're giving me ideas again."
Her smile turns dangerous. She hits my arm.
“Water. So much water. Anya wasn’t kidding.”
Jane pushes the door to our casita open and heads straight for the kitchen. She grabs a bottle from the fridge, twists it open, and drinks half of it in one go. She leansagainst the counter, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
