My phone buzzes again and I realize it’s on a nightstand right next to the bed. When did it get there?
I reach for it and see that I have several text messages from Mom.
Mom: Sweetheart, you disappeared last night. Where are you?
Mom: Leon was disappointed he didn’t get to dance with you.
Mom: Your Dad and I are getting breakfast at the hotel before our flight home if you want to join us.
I release a long breath. Thank God she’s not questioning me about where I disappeared to. If I had to explain that I disappeared to have the hottest sex of my life with a man she wasn’t expecting me to marry, I think I’d die of embarrassment.
Sighing, I shake my head. Why am I such a coward? So what if I’ve been out all night having kinky sex? I’m a grown woman! I shouldn’t be so worried about my parents getting on my case about it.
Instead, I think back on the night with Jayce and my body immediately starts to heat with desire. It was amazing. Unlike any sexual experience of my life so far.
But it can’t happen again.
I can’t let anything distract me right now, especially a man. I need to focus on proving I can take over Holloway and handle running it on my own. Besides, Jayce lives in Colorado and I’m in New York. Long distance relationships are not my thing.
It’s time to go.
I need to hurry back to the hotel and meet up with my parents, no matter how badly I want to stay here. Maybe find Jayce and go for another round. Enjoy the calm and quiet he brings with him. I can’t, though. Already my mind is buzzing, wondering if Mom and Dad are angry with me. If they are, how will I make it up to them? How will I convince them to look past this one indiscretion?
I need to go. Need to get back so I can explain myself before they decide I really can’t handle running my own life, let alone the company.
Climbing out of bed, I try to remember where I left my things last night, but I freeze when I find my clutch, shoes, and dress laid out neatly on a cushioned bench at the end of the bed. My dress is tucked away in a garment bag, and there’s a large t-shirt and pair of drawstring sweatpants folded next to it. For me?
I blink, confused, but then quickly get dressed and gather up my things. It’s really time to go.
I make my way across the massive bedroom to the door and slip out into the hallway beyond. Tiptoeing to the landing, I ease my way down the stairs, intent on sneaking away. I canhear activity in the kitchen and there’s a delicious smell that makes my mouth water, but I shake my head and force myself to continue toward the front door.
“Sutton, come in here and eat,” Jayce calls out, stopping me in my tracks. “You can sneak out when you’ve had breakfast.”
I hesitate a moment and then look at the time.
“I can’t,” I reply, keeping my eyes locked on my watch. “I need to go eat with my parents, because… well, because…”
Because why? What reason, apart from my anxiety, do I really have?
“Your parents have probably eaten breakfast already,” Jayce replies in a casual tone. “Come and sit. Eat. It’ll be okay. You can leave right after.”
I hesitate a moment, but he has a point, his steady voice breaking through my building worry. I will likely have to go straight to the airstrip at this point anyway, so breakfast here might not be a bad idea. I slowly turn and make my way into the kitchen. Jayce stands at the gas stove, wearing a dark gray t-shirt and sweatpants, cooking something in a frying pan.
“Is that French toast?” I ask, slipping onto a stool at the kitchen’s massive marble island.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “My specialty. It’ll be ready in another minute.”
“Thank you.” Silence falls between us again, but this time, I do feel a little anxious as I sit there and watch him. What’s he thinking after last night? Is he going to have expectations of me? Is this going to make things awkward between us when we’re around our friends?
Giving my head a sharp shake, I shove those thoughts away. No! I don’t want to worry about any of that. Not now. It shouldn’t matter, anyway. I’m allowed to have fun, and that’s what this is. Fun. An extension of last night, and I don’t regretwhat happened then, so I shouldn’t regret anything happening now.
It doesn’t mean anything. We’re just two people who hooked up, and now we’re having a polite breakfast before going our separate ways and moving on with our lives.
It’s no big deal.
I can almost convince myself that I believe that.
He turns off the stovetop and slips a couple pieces of French toast out of the pan and onto a plate that already has some fresh berries on it. Turning, he moves around the island and places the plate in front of me, along with a fork.
