“I’ll show you your room.” I turn to make my way down the hallway, rolling her suitcase behind me. She obediently follows. When we reach the guestroom, I open the door and step aside to let her go in first. Once she crosses the threshold, she stops and looks around, letting out a low whistle.
“This is really nice,” she says.
The bed sits centered against the far wall, made up with crisp white sheets and a quilted gray comforter that’s heavier than it looks. Two plush pillows lean neatly against the dark upholstered headboard, and an extra throw rests at the foot of the bed. Thank God Mrs. Cross, my housekeeper, changes the linens once a week whether they need it or not. On either side of the bed, minimalist black nightstands hold matching lamps with warm, diffused light.
Across from the bed, a slim dresser in warm oak holds a small ceramic tray for keys and jewelry. Above it hangs a framed black-and-white shot of the mountains during winter. There’s also a little reading nook in the corner, a low, cream-coloredarmchair angled toward the window, with a soft throw draped over one side.
The attached bathroom is compact but sleek with charcoal tile, a glass shower, fluffy white towels folded on the open shelving. This room hasn’t been used much, since I don’t bring women here often, and if I do, they don’t sleep over. Still, I keep it tidy and ready in case Hallie needs a place to crash when she wants to get out of the house and away from our parents.
“The bathroom should have everything you need,” I explain, stepping into the room and moving to leave her suitcase next to the bed. “Feel free to relax. Take a bath or shower. I’m going to go heat something up for us to eat and we can talk about how to field questions from our families. I imagine our phones are going to be blowing up soon.”
Right on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
“And so it begins,” I chuckle.
She gives a little half-grin and nods. “Thanks, Jayce. I’ll be out soon.”
“Take your time.” I smile and make my way back out of the room, shutting the door behind her to give her some real privacy. I want her to feel comfortable here. To trust me to take care of things for her.
I make it to the kitchen before I pause and pull my phone free to find a text from my brother.
Ryan: What did you do now? Are you fucking kidding me?
Before I can even think of a response to him, another message comes in from my sister.
Hallie: Holy shit, Jayce! You better call me RIGHT NOW!
I smirk and decide to leave them hanging a little while longer, tucking my phone back into my pocket and opening the fridge to see what Mrs. Cross has prepared for me. If Ryan and Hallie have found out, they’ll inform Mom and Dad of my engagement sooner rather than later.
Grabbing some aluminum foil pans of marinated chicken and vegetables, I turn on the oven and wait for it to preheat before sliding the food inside. I sit at the island and pull my phone back out to check the news and tabloid headlines while I wait for the food to cook and for Sutton to come out of her room. Our engagement is already making the rounds.
From Blue Line to Boardroom: Jayce Vaughn of Parker Global and Sutton Holloway of Holloway Achitecture’s Surprise Proposal
She Said Yes: Jayce Vaughn and Sutton Holloway Shock Fans with Surprise Engagement
A Private Love Story Revealed: Jayce Vaughn Engaged to Sutton Holloway
Off the Ice and Off the Market: Jayce Vaughn Pops the Question
A Uniting of Giants: Holloway Architecture and Parker Global Merging with the Heirs Apparent’s Engagement?
Good.
About twenty minutes later, I hear soft footsteps coming down the hallway and I look up in time to see Sutton walk out, wearing sweatpants and an off-the-shoulder shirt. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a messy bun and her feet are bare. When she spots me, she freezes and we just stare at each other for several long moments. I’m no stranger to women in comfortableclothing, but seeing Sutton dressed like this is doing something to me I can’t really understand. My heart is hammering in my chest and my blood feels hot as it races through my veins. The urge to grab her, strip her, and fuck her against the kitchen island is almost overwhelming, but I fight it even as my cock starts to get hard.
What the hell is wrong with me? We had an agreement. We’re not crossing that line again, and no matter how attractive she is, I’m not the kind of man who lets his desires cloud his thinking. Sex is transactional. Relationships aren’t realistic. Sutton and I are in a mutually beneficial, platonic relationship and these feelings will only confuse things and make it messy between us.
Clearing my throat, I shake myself out of the daze I’ve fallen into staring at her. Fuck, I’m just pent up. I didn’t go to the club this week, so that has to be the reason my thoughts are getting away from me like this.
At that moment, the timer on the oven goes off and that seems to snap Sutton out of her own trance. I jump up and grab oven mitts so I can pull the food out.
“Take a seat,” I tell her, setting the sizzling pans on the counter. “You must be hungry.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, moving to one of the cushioned chairs at the island. “Airplane pretzels and arena hotdogs aren’t as filling as you might think.”
That makes me chuckle as I prepare a plate of the chicken and veggies for her. I turn and set the plate in front of her, then go to the wine wall and pull out a bottle of what I presume is her favorite, Opus One Overture from Napa Valley. I’ve spotted her drinking it a few times before, and so I stocked up on it, even if I wasn’t sure she’d ever actually be here in my home with me.
When I hand her a glass of the wine, she looks at it then up at me in surprise.
