Page 69 of Scandalous Lover

It’s all so unnecessary and so out of place. Buildings like that exist at odds with the natural beauty of the tropics. My property embraces it.

I’ve upgraded a bit every year and finally reached a place where I can say that I have all the comforts I need. The covered walkway was a big improvement, and a few years back I installed a mini split a/c unit in the main house, something everyone was amazed I went without for so long. I shrugged them off, but the hard truth of the matter is, I’m just not here all that often, and almost never in the hottest part of the day. I work long hours giving The Sands and its employees everything they need to thrive.

The upgrades I’ve completed over the last few years haven’t been for me, they’ve been done with the future in mind. I would never admit to my friends that I was trying to get this place ready for a family, but I know they know. You’d have to be blind not to see it. The guys are a lot of things—spoiled, stubborn, arrogant—but they’re far from unobservant. And they know me well.

The last of my three buildings has been the focus of my time and energy this season and will continue to be until I get it just the way I want. The single story, one room hut sits between the main house and the kitchen, forming a triangle. The covered walkway between that house and the main house is almost completed and when it is, I plan to finish the bed and build a shelving unit, as well as a window seating area in front of the large picture window that takes up most of the south facing wall. It looks out over my small garden and the orchard of fruit trees planted by past residents.

The sleeping loft in the main house has beenfine for me, but a proper bedroom is what’s going to make this place a home.

I toss my keys on the counter and pull a bottle of light, local lager from my mini-fridge and snuggle it into a blue foam koozie to take with me out into the yard. I glance at the couch and consider flopping down there, but there’s too many usable hours left in the day to give in already.

I grab a rake and head down to the lower side of the north end, where the jungle is always trying to reclaim the land. I cut back the plants here yesterday morning, leaving the branches and palms in a neat mound. Using the rake and a broad, wide shovel, as well as thick leather gloved hands, I load everything into the wheelbarrow and push the thing down the narrow path into the jungle where I have my brush pile.

Looking down over the now clear area, a feeling of pride comes over me, bringing a smile to my lips. There really is no greater satisfaction than seeing the finished product of your own hard work. I wish more people understood that.

I peel off my shirt and use it to mop sweat from my brow. It’s a hot time of day to be out here working, but I use the time I’ve got. I spot a project I’ve been putting off in a shady part of the yard and head over there.

Three hours later, the shadows are growing longer, and I get my first mosquito bite. I guess it’s time to call it a day. Outside, anyway. There’s plenty of work to be done in the house after I relinquish the yard to flying insects.

In the outdoor shower connected to the main house, I close my eyes and let the refreshing water wash away the day. It was one for the records, that’s for sure. I’ve been keeping the thoughts at bay with grueling manual labor, but now that my body’s at rest, they all come flooding back.

Naomi is incredible. Every moment with her is incredible.

And incredibly stupid.

I had plenty of time to come to my senses after our night together in Austin, and I let it all go at the first sight of her. I was defenseless from the moment she stepped off the boat with her rolling suitcase and bright smile.

And then she ambushed me with that video, something I should still be pissed about, but anger toward her for taping our private moments is the last thing I’m feeling. Just the thought of the video, ready for me to hit play at any moment, has my cock stiffening, cool water be damned.

I should check my phone.

I laugh to myself as I duck my head under the water, rinsing off the last of the soap and dragging my hands down my face. That damn plastic rectangle is on my mind all day. I’m honestly surprised I left it in the house during my afternoon of yard work.

I hit the faucet, water conservation always at the front of my mind, and dry off with a towel still warm from the sun. When I get into my living room, striped towel tucked around my waist, I walk straight to my phone like it’s a beacon calling to me.

No messages.

Okay. That’s fine.

When I left her, she was loading her suitcases into the cart to be taken to Dom and Reina’s house. I’m sure she’s busy unpacking and getting reacquainted with her brother after many years of little to no contact.

I bite my lip as I think back to the conversation we had when I first entered her hotel room earlier.

“Why are you so afraid of him?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

I know damn well why I’m apprehensive about putting my relationship with Dom on shaky ground. But, while it would make my life more challenging, I’m not exactly afraid of him.

Not like Naomi seemed to be.

I’ve known Dom my whole life. I know the guy isn’t violent or abusive. But he does lean toward controlling, and he’s stubborn as hell. I frown, imagining her growing up with him and their father as the only family she had to lean on.

Naomi’s mother died right after she was born, some kind of complication with the pregnancy or birth that was never explained to me. I have a memory of her funeral so vivid it almost feels like a scene from a movie. The whole family in dark outfits with somber expressions stepping up to the grave to toss white roses onto the lowering casket.

After that day, their mother was never mentioned again. It was an unspoken rule, but one everyone obeyed. Granted, I didn’t spend a lot of time around Dom’s younger sister, so it's very possible she had other support systems in place, kinder ones. But if she did, I never saw them.

I only remember hearing the tragedy of Naomi’s birth mentioned one time after that, passing by their father’s library on my way up to Dom’s bedroom one day. He was speaking on the phone, and I distinctly remember hearing the words, “Nothing but trouble, since the day she was born.”

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