by Stacey Lynn
“Met her at the coffee shop in my building. And be nice.”
“Me?” He slaps his hand to his chest, jaw dropping, feigning affront. “I’m the nicest guy you’ve ever met.”
I snicker. “Sure, sure. Keep believing that.”
I join Willow, sliding into the chair next to her and across from Corbin.
Corbin settles his elbow on the table and blinks rapidly at Willow. He looks like a cartoon character in love and I kick his shin under the table. Unfortunately, his crazy-eyed look doesn’t change. “So, Willow.” God, my friend’s an asshole. “How’d you meet?”
He sings the words like an idiot. Willow laughs as Teagan slaps her husband in the stomach with the back of her hand. “You’re a dork.”
“Yes, but I’m your lovable dork. Am I right?”
“Wrong.” Teagan sticks her tongue out at him and turns to Willow. “Ignore him. He spends too much time sniffing fumes in his workshop. But I am curious since Caitlin didn’t say Trey was bringing anyone. How did you meet?”
Willow’s still smiling, and it’s such a beautiful change from the stress on the plane. I lean back in my chair and drape my arm over hers next to me. “I have a part-time job at the coffee shop in Trey’s building.”
“I’ve been asking her out for months and finally wore her down.”
She slides a glare my way, but it lacks bite. “I don’t quite think it happened that way.”
“A woman who doesn’t fall at Trey’s feet when she first meets him?” Teagan lifts her fruity-looking pink drink and tips it in Willow’s direction. “I like you already.”
I curl my hand around Willow’s shoulder and squeeze. “Don’t listen to them. They’re both jerks.”
Corbin leans forward and wiggles two of his fingers, getting Willow’s attention with a salacious grin. “Has he told you about the time we went skinny-dipping in March yet?”
Chapter 10
Willow
“Your friends are hilarious.”
We’re headed down the hallway after leaving Corbin and Teagan to themselves. Apparently, Trey can only take so much good-natured teasing before becoming a grumpy-butt. Plus, the place was packed and it took forever to get a drink, so instead he requested a bottle of wine be sent to his room so we could enjoy it there.
“In peace and quiet,” he’d said to Corbin before we left. Corbin threw his head back and laughed.
“My friends are the best people I know who tend to show their worst sides at the wrong moments.”
He’s grinning so I know he doesn’t mean it. I also know he’s not really grumpy but I think he wanted to end the conversation and stories that sounded like episodes of a show titled How big of a loser can we make Trey look like? before it went too far.
Which is a shame. I spent so much of my life trying to cater to Scott that I don’t have friendships like the ones Corbin and Trey have. I can’t think of a friend I’m still in touch with from college or high school even though I’ve always lived in Portland. It’s depressing if I think too much about it, and only a stark reminder of how much I changed for a man.
Stupid. I just have to keep reminding myself that a mistake made is a lesson learned and I have definitely learned a lesson. There will be no more changing myself to fit into another man’s view of who I should be.
There are four doors on this floor. Only four. And it seems incredibly strange that they’re so far apart. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s done.
“Holy crap, you got us a suite?”
He said he’d take care of room arrangements, and I know I’ll have a separate room, but I suppose he didn’t specify if we’d be sharing a suite.
“Calm down,” Trey teases, stopping at the first door. “You have your own.”
My head whips to the door and back to him. He’s pulling a hotel-issued white envelope out of his pocket, and inside are three keys. Why three?
He hands the envelope to me. “Two keys for each room. These are yours. Bottom one is mine.”
“Oh.” I finger the keys, debating. Do I give him access to my room?
“And the rooms are adjoining. I’m telling you right now, mine will be opened and unlocked. Anytime you want me, I’m there.”
Oh dear…
I fumble with the keys, one of them dropping to the floor. Trey bends down to get it before I can, and he holds the strip of plastic in his thick fingers, waves it over the reader. The light turns green, but I’m firmly stuck on mine will be opened and unlocked so it takes me a moment to realize he’s opened the door and is standing there, one arm pressed against it, holding it open for me.
“Want a look around? I’ve got that wine in my room if you want more ocean-view relaxation on the deck out back.”
“I would like another glass,” I say. Might as well enjoy myself. Maybe some liquid courage will help me figure out how this night is going to go. Do I take him up on his offer? I’m not ready to make that decision yet. “Meet you on the deck?”
A flicker of disappointment slides through his gaze, gone as quickly as it appears. “Of course.”
My hand presses to the door until he lets go, but for a brief moment, it feels like he leans in. I love his height. The width of his shoulders. The muscles and veins on his forearms. And I catch a hint of sandalwood and…mint?
His head dips and his mouth is near my ear. My cheek. Far enough away that if I turned my head we still couldn’t kiss, but close enough to send shivers of delight racing down my neck. “See you soon, then.”
Oh. The evil man. He’s letting me know exactly what he wants from me. He wasn’t kidding earlier.
He might not expect me to touch him this weekend, but he really, really wants it.
I swallow a thick ball of nerves mixed with something that tastes like desire in my throat and turn toward the door. It’s the only thing I can do to put space between us.
Because the smartest thing is not to curl my fingers into his shirt and yank him until we’re pressed together.
He steps back, laughing softly in that way it tells me he knows he affects me. Which is bad.
Really bad, right?
Or is it absolutely perfect?
My mind is too rattled, my nerves too frazzled—and my stomach and lower? Well, that’s heating out of control.
He walks away, smirking and sliding his hands into his pockets before he turns, and I can’t help myself, watching him stroll down the hallway, whistling, like it hasn’t rattled him at all to almost knock me to my knees.
I quickly enter my room before he reaches his. The door slams shut behind me, the sound almost as loud as the thundering in my ears from my racing pulse.
Oh dear.
Trey Kollins is a wicked, wicked man.
And for the weekend…he’s all mine.
* * *
—
My suite is the most beautiful hotel room I’ve ever seen, decorated with light-blue furniture and gray walls. There’s a dining table to my right with chairs to seat six and what looks like a white marble tabletop. To my right, in the direction of what I assume is Trey’s room, is a door, and before I second-guess myself, I flip the latch so it’s unlocked. There. Maybe I won’t tell him he has access to my room. Maybe I will.
We’ll see how the night goes.
Grabbing the handle of my overnight bag, I drag it behind me toward the short hallway that reveals several opened doors. Two bedrooms. A hall bath. I take the farthest room away, assuming it’s the larger bedroom, and I’m absolutely blown away by the view. Cream, silk curtains billow gently above the air-conditioner unit, and there’s a wall of windows with sliding glass doors.
Holy cow. Just outside is the deck, and if Trey’s correct, this deck will wrap all the way around to his room down the length of the building. In the distance is the ocean. Inky black meeting sand
y beach visible only in the resort’s flickering lights. White pillows of waves push against each other, falling to the sand before disappearing. It’s mesmerizing, and while I came into the room to freshen up, use the restroom, and change into something more comfortable, even though I’ll be sliding into pajamas soon, I go to the door first and unlock it, sliding it open.
Wow. My breath falls from my lips. From so high, the ocean is a muted roar, the perfect background noise for sleeping.
I can’t believe I’m here.
I can’t believe I’m here with a guy like Trey Kollins.
Both are unbelievable, and both leave a trail of excitement gliding down my arms to my fingertips. Like if I’m bold enough to reach out, I might actually grasp onto something good for me.
I toss my suitcase onto the bed, dig through it until everything I’ve meticulously packed has exploded all over the enormous bed. At the bottom, I find the lightweight hoodie sweatshirt along with a pair of leggings, and I hurry to the bathroom where I freshen up and slide into comfortable clothes. I don’t bother heading back through the suite, but step out onto the large deck from my bedroom and pad toward where the light is coming from.
My hands ball into fists and I force my breathing to steady.
Trey is already sprawled out on a lounge chair looking more Greek god in command of his kingdom than a tech mogul. He’s changed, too, into a pair of dark, athletic-looking pants and a long-sleeve shirt that could have been sewn for him and him alone. I can see every ripple and curve of his chest and abs, while he has one foot propped on the chair, one planted firmly on the deck next to him.
He has his hand wrapped around a wineglass, and on the table next to him is the bottle with another glass. He’s pushed another chair next to that and I assume it’s for me.
“Hey,” I say softly, like speaking loudly would interrupt his thoughts. He turns to me then, and I don’t miss the way his eyes scan my body, or how his lips part. “The room is incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He pushes himself to sitting on the chair so both feet are planted on the deck and reaches for the bottle. “Drink?”
“Please.” A gazillion of them.
Being around Trey is like being thrust out of orbit, spinning madly.
I’ve been able to successfully avoid him for months, and twelve hours around him has thrown me completely off-kilter.
Will he be the kind of jerk most of the men in my life have turned out to be? Or can I trust that he really is the nice guy he seems to be?
I shake my head, fruitlessly trying to unscramble my runaway train filled with thoughts and doubts, and slide into the chair while he pours me a glass.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
“None of it holds a candle to you.”
Chapter 11
Trey
Cheesy as hell? Yes.
True? Abso-fuckin’-lutely.
Even in sweats and skintight yoga pants, Willow is still one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. Sure, she might not be a sponsored Instagram model, but she’s real, completely un-Photoshopped, and it makes her all that much more beautiful.
I’ve stunned her with my comments and I know she doesn’t know quite yet what to think of me. Her hesitancy and questions and doubts cloud her expressions every time she turns to look from me.
I’ll let it slide tonight. Tonight is for relaxing. Having fun.
Tomorrow, though, she’d better be ready. I’m putting the seduce-the-sexy-barista plan into action.
She takes the glass I poured for her and slides into the chair next to me, crossing her feet beneath her and sitting in a way I haven’t done since elementary school.
“Thank you. For all of this.” Her head falls back onto the chair as she takes her first sip. And with that sip, her shoulders fall, like her whole body has hit nirvana. “I needed this weekend away.”
“I’m glad I could be the one to give it to you, then.” We sit in silence for a few minutes, the rush of the waves echoing in the distance, and the hum of the lights behind us. It’s been too long since I’ve not worked, too long since I’ve taken my own vacation. Too long since I’ve done anything except sit behind my desk and pound away on my keyboard. “Me too, to be honest. Will you have to work tomorrow?”
She didn’t get much, if any, done on the plane and she’s mentioned being behind on deadlines.
“A few hours, but I’m used to waking up early. I’ll get it done then.” Turning to me, she grins lazily, like the wine and air and maybe, hopefully, I, are calming her. “There’s nothing until the dinner tomorrow, right? Any plans for the day?”
“I might try some surfing in the morning depending on the swells. And when you’re done we can hang on the beach?”
“You surf?”
“Poorly.”
She laughs and takes a drink, savoring the wine and flicking the last drop off her bottom lip with her tongue. And just like that, I’m having to fight against going hard in a way I haven’t had to do in years.
“Somehow, I think you do few things poorly.”
She’s not all that wrong. “I don’t suck. But it’s been a while and I don’t do it enough to say it’s like riding a bike.” I’m definitely athletic, but there’s a dance to surfing I haven’t fully mastered in my limited time trying. “Maybe we can go some morning before we head out?”
The wedding isn’t until Saturday afternoon. We have lots of time.
Willow shakes her head and smiles into her wineglass. “I love the ocean, but it’s probably more accurate to say I love the allure of the ocean, the beauty of it…not the actual water part.”
From her near panic about flying on the small plane, this doesn’t surprise me. Adventure might not be Willow’s middle name. “Afraid of water?”
“Not normally, but I don’t know. The ocean’s a different beast. I prefer to admire it from a reasonable distance, like the shore.” She turns to me and grins. If she’s embarrassed to admit it, it doesn’t show.
She’s a woman who knows who she is and isn’t ashamed of it. It’s sexy as hell.
I’ve met my fair share of women. Been with them, too, although the luster of a one-night stand wore off around the time my college diploma was put in my hand. It’s just not my thing. It’s been a long time since any woman has been more interesting than a string of code I need to create.
“I like you, Willow Parks,” I say, and the confession rolls off my tongue as easily as telling my mom I love her. The only thing that surprises me about it is the lack of stuttering.
And the intense sensation coiling in my chest. I’ve checked this girl out for months, wanting to get to know her, and now that she’s here, she’s so far everything I’ve imagined…plus a thousand times better.
Her cheeks turn fire-engine red as she takes a large swallow of wine. And I like that about her, too. I like embarrassing her in a way that’s sweet. “I’m starting to think you might not be all that bad yourself, Trey Kollins.”
The compliment from her is worth a million throwaway ones I’ve received in the past.
“As opposed to the stuck-up asshole you assumed me to be?”
She laughs. “Something like that.”
Her smile turns playful and she twists in her seat, still with her feet tucked under her, but now she’s curled forward, her glass of wine cupped in both hands in her lap, like we’re schoolgirl friends ready to share secrets.
Luckily for me, I have very few skeletons locked away.
“Tell me something.”
“Anything.” I sit up and pay attention because, while she’s smiling, things are about to get real.
“What’s your favorite color?” She tilts her head to the side and winks.
Damn, she’s cute.
“Navy blue.”
She snorts. “Typical male color.�
��
Anything but. “You were wearing navy-blue Converse sneakers with frayed denim jeans the first time I stepped into Java Joe’s and saw you.”
Screw waiting for tomorrow. Operation seduce-the-sexy-barista begins now.
I’ve surprised her, based on the way her jaw unhinges and her pretty blue eyes fly open. It’s time she realizes how long I’ve really wanted to ask her out. I scoot forward on my chair as she stammers, those cheeks of hers burning bright, and I place my hand at her jaw. It’s the first time we’ve truly touched, other than some minor hand-holding, and I’m stunned by the softness of her skin where my hand brushes her chin, and she closes her mouth with a snap.
I’m not generally a lay-your-cards-on-the-table kind of guy, preferring to keep them close to my vest with those I don’t know well. In my line of work, secrecy is absolute. Anyone can steal an idea, and it’s easier to keep anything personal to the few people I trust. But it might be time to throw all those cards down, faceup, if I want a chance with this woman.
“I like you, Willow. I was attracted to you the first time I walked into Java Joe’s. I like that you ignore me, but you blush as you look away. I like that you stood up to me when I put my foot in my mouth, and I even like that you’re scared of small planes and the ocean—”
“I’m not afraid—”
“I also think you’re beautiful and sexy as hell, heavy baggage and stubbornness included. You need to know all that this weekend, because I plan on spending the next few days showing you exactly how much I mean it.”
My thumb trails over her lips as they part. Soft. So damn soft. My dick is currently anything but.
“You’re very forward.”
I lean closer, my hand at her jaw sliding to the back of her neck to pull her close. She comes easily, lips parting farther, as I get so close to her. My lips are at her ear, that hinge of her jaw, her cheeks…“I’m very turned on by you, Willow Parks, and I’m not a man who passes on an opportunity when it’s quite literally almost in my lap. I’m more of a seize-and-conquer kind of man, but you’ll learn that. I promise.”
