Page 20 of Scandalous Lover

How they feel more like family than friends.

How we’ve managed to set aside our complicated workarrangements as co-owners of the resort anytime we’re not in meetings or doing resort related work and just be pals.

How much it means to me that they trust me to helm the ship that is The White Sands Resort on a day-to-day basis, rarely questioning my judgment or decisions. At least not as often as they question each other.

A decade ago, when I first came to the guys with the idea to buy a run-down island resort, they balked. It took me the entirety of a five-day guy’s trip to get them on board.

Dom fell first, as I knew he would, the allure of his very own restaurant being something he couldn’t pass up.

I’m still not entirely sure why the other two eventually signed on. Whether it was just to make me and Dom happy, or if they truly saw something there for themselves. Either way, just ten short months later, we were rolling up to the mostly abandoned property with stars in our eyes.

And not much else.

The funny thing about taking a leap of faith is that you just never know how far down the universe has placed the net.

If it wasn’t for the bottomless pockets of my three besties, as well as a group of local contractors and other tradespeople who saw some potential in our project—or just took pity on us—we would have been just another cautionary tale for other young, inexperienced, budding entrepreneurs with more money than sense.

“And you live off-property?”

Naomi’s question pulls me back into the present moment. “Yeah. I bought a house the first year we were there. It was a bit of a fixer upper.” Understatement of the century. “But I’ve put in a lot of work and it’s starting to come around.”

Naomi tosses me a smirk. “Starting to come around after ten years of work?”

I shrug, chewing and swallowing before I answer. “I workat the resort a lot, so I only have my weekends to do house stuff. It was only recently that I started really getting those, and there have been some setbacks. Storm damage and whatnot.”

“Oh, I heard about that storm last year. Your house flooded?”

“The inside stayed dry, but the winds took out one of my outbuildings and the yard took on some water.”

“The tropics are a crazy place to live.”

I nod, but then shake my head side to side as I consider. “I don’t know. We have the weather and the obvious limitations like transport and importing most things we want, but I don’t think it’s any crazier than living somewhere like here. Every time I visit the mainland these days, I feel more and more like I’m going to get hit by a car or have a seizure from all the flashing lights.”

She laughs and I absorb the sound, warmth filling my body.

What I wouldn’t give to make this woman laugh for the rest of my life.

Nope. Not thinking that.

I set my fork down a bit too hard and the bang echoes through the quiet kitchen. I grimace. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh, right.”

We both sit for a long, slightly awkward moment, looking at our plates.

Naomi recovers first, standing and clearing the table. “Um, I guess most of your stuff is still in my bedroom.”

I glance down at my bare chest in amazement. How did I manage to come out to breakfast without a shirt on?

“Yeah. I’ll just go grab my shirt.” I stand and she doesn’t turn, facing away from me as she rinses the plates. After amoment, I leave the kitchen and retrace my steps back to her room.

The sight of her mussed up bed should not be sending all the blood in my body south, but it is.

How am I ever going to recover from last night?

I snatch up my tee and make a beeline for the safety of the living room where Naomi is waiting, looking as uncertain as I am about the next step.

It’s comforting that she isn’t just sending me off with a smile, as if I was just another one-night stand. She’s visibly unsure of herself, biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot with her hands clasped.

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