“But I’mveryspoiled,” he says. “I always get what I want.”
“I believe you.”
We keep passing the bottle and chocolate between us. For over an hour, we talk about nothing and everything. I share fun stories about Coconut Beach, and he tells me about a restaurant he tried in New York that only serves seven courses and doesn’t have a menu. I share how I once convinced Josie that I had a mermaid as a pen pal. Our laughter gets louder as the bottle becomes lighter.
The thumps from Cocktails & Chaos shift to something slower.
When my eyes get tired, I pull my phone out and see it’s past midnight. Hours have passed, and I didn’t even notice. “I should go. I have to be up early.”
“Thanks for hanging out.”
“Thanks for the invite.” When I stand, the balcony tilts. “I might’ve had too much.”
He’s up and beside me before I can blink, his hand on my elbow to steady me. “Need me to walk you home?”
“Appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage the stairs. I’m on the second floor. My door is the first one on the right.”
“So, we’re roommates?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not quite, Banks. Don’t push your luck.”
We’re standing close—too close. His hand is still on my elbow, and I can smell the tequila and chocolate on his breath.For a fraction of a second, his gaze drops to my mouth, causing my lips to part.
His thumb rubs against my arm, barely moving, and the spot where he’s touching me is the only thing I can think about. The wind pushes my hair across my face. Carter reaches up to tuck it behind my ear. His warm fingers trail down to my jaw and stop. I hold my breath, and his hand drops to his side.
“We should do this again sometime,” he says.
“Maybe. But I have a feeling we shouldn’t,” I whisper and take a step back.
Air fills the space that wasn’t there a second ago.
“I hope I can change your mind.” He walks through the room and opens the door for me. “Good night, Wendy Winslow.”
“Night, Carter Banks.”
He stands at the door and watches me leave, wearing a smoldering gaze. “You sure you don’t need an escort?”
“Pfft. Positive.” I glance over my shoulder at him as I grab the railing to the stairs.
My skin is flushed, and my legs are unsteady. Not sure I can even blame the tequila for how dizzy he makes me.
When I’m back in my room, I lean against the door and close my eyes. Every part of me is humming, and tomorrow at seven, I have to walk into that room and pretend his touch doesn’t affect me.
I need to avoid him, but I can’t.
chapter seven
Carter
She knocks at 6:58, and I’m already dressed. I ran four miles before the sun came up, showered, and read a few chapters of a book. Sleep evaded me.
“Come in,” I say from the balcony, replaying our time together last night.
The door opens and closes, but I force myself to stay focused on the ocean.
“Good morning,” she says with the same professional tone from check-in day.
“Morning.”
