Page 44 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

The interrupted moment hangs between us, unresolved yet undeniably present. Like the wedding plans we've been revising, something has fundamentally changed—not ruined, but transformed into something unexpected.

Perhaps, like the new wedding design, something even better might come out of the mess I made of things between us.

Chapter 10

Unexpected Allies

# Chapter 10:Unexpected Allies

I spend another night on the couch.

A lumpy, too-short, spine-killing couch that smells like cedar and restraint.

Lucas and I are still at odds when it comes to anything personal.

Professionally?

Professionally, we're kicking ass and taking names.

The glass dome of the atrium glows with morning light; the sunlight fractures into a kaleidoscope of rainbows that scatter across the floor like confetti. I sit cross-legged in the middle of it, phone pressed to my ear, pretending I slept more than three hours and didn't wake up aching—in more ways than one.

The power's back. For now. So is cell service. I've spent the past hour going over every detail of the revised wedding layout with Miranda. Lucas's photos—stunning, moody, impossibly romantic—finally broke her down.

"Well." She sighs after a long pause. "I hate to admit it, but the new venue might actually be an upgrade."

I don't bother hiding my smile. "Told you."

But the moment the words are out of my mouth, the satisfaction fades.

Because while our client gets her dream wedding, I get to camp on a couch six feet away from the man I can't stop thinking about. His body off-limits. His boundaries etched deeper with every near-miss.

I press my hands into the small of my back, stretch, and try not to groan.

He didn't even offer to switch last night.

Not that I would've said yes. But still.

The floor creaks behind me—Lucas's footsteps, precise as ever—and I school my face into something that doesn't scream sexually frustrated lunatic.

It's fine. It's all fine.

After all, I'm only planning someone else's happily ever after…

While sleeping on a couch.

Alone.

In Lucas's shirt.

"I'm impressed with your adaptability, Amelia." Miranda's words snap me back to the present. Her words carry faint praise wrapped in surprise. "The Mortons have tentatively approved the changes, pending final details."

I lower the phone and roll my shoulders, trying to work out the kink in my neck from another night spent twisted on Lucas's couch like some kind of determined house cat.

The worst part? I didn't even argue about it.

After the power outage cut short our almost-kiss in the atrium—because apparently the universe loves to cockblock me—we retreated to the cabin in silence. Not strained. Not angry.

Just… awkward.

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