Page 58 of Paradise in Progress
Turning toward my room, I loosen the tie on my neck, which feels like a noose. With it removed, I let out a relieved sigh as the tension from the day melts away. The dress shirt comes next, buttons undone one by one until I shrug it off and toss it onto the bed. I kick off my shoes, then step out of my dress pants, leaving them in a heap with therest of my workday. My hands automatically reach for the cargo shorts I threw in the closet, paired with a casual tee.
But I can’t forget the finishing touch—my Birkenstocks. She teases me relentlessly about them, but the way she laughs when she sees me in them? It's worth it every time. It’s this little inside joke between us, one that seems to soften whatever tension lingers in the air.
As I pull on the shorts and slip into my sandals, I decide tonight’s the night. We’ve both had a whirlwind of a week, from the building plans finally being approved to everything that’s been brewing. We need to celebrate. Not just the end of a crazy week, but...whatever this is between us. Maybe tonight we’ll figure out where it’s going.
“Hey, you’re home.” Kennedy’s voice is sweet from behind me.
After I changed, I decided to give her more time to herself. So instead of joining her on the balcony, I cracked open a bottle of beer and enjoyed the silence on the couch. Turning my head, I watch her strut her bikini-clad body closer to me, and I fight the reaction in my shorts. Her smile is bright, her cheeks flushed, and my heart races at the sight.
“Want to go out tonight, Firecracker?” My voice is husky, and I clear my throat, shaking off the stupor I find myself in whenever she’s near.
She makes her way around the coffee table until she’s between my spread legs. Her gaze trails over my body, leaving a heated path as they roam. Reaching forward, she plucks the beer bottle from my hand before taking a sip. I shake my head as a grin spreads behind the bottle.
“I’ll never say no to a night out with you.”
Chapter twenty-three
Kennedy
Thick and warm airwraps around me like a blanket as we step out of the penthouse elevator. The island feels so still, almost eerie, without the usual sounds of tourists. I still can’t get used to a vacant resort. The clanking sounds of construction that fill the day can be heard in the distance as crews work around the clock. But right here, it’s just us, the quiet hum of nature, and the soft rustle of palm leaves in the breeze. I breathe in the salty air, the scent of the ocean filling my lungs and the slight masculine smell from Tristan’s cologne floods my senses as I try to ignore the nerves twisting in my stomach.
The path beneath my sandals is hard against my feet as we walk, the faint sound of our footsteps the only noise breaking the silence. His hand brushes mine, just barely, but it’s enough to send a spark along my skin. Every time he touches me, it’s like a fire ignites in my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s the island heat or just him.
Probably him.
I glance over, his laid-back island vibe evident in the way he’s dressed—khaki shorts, a loose button-up shirt left half undone, and those damn Birkenstocks. It’s casual, but it looks so good on him.Too good. He walks with an easy swagger, the same that’s always had me on edge since we started working together. The tension between us isundeniable, simmering just beneath the surface, and tonight…I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself from falling into it completely.
“Don’t overthink it,” Lana told me on the phone a few hours ago. “Just go with it. Get out of your head.”
It’s not that simple, though, is it? How do I just let go of all the worries, the doubts, the fear that maybe I shouldn’t want this as much as I do? But then I feel his arm brush against mine again, and I think maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to let go.
Glancing up once more, I find his gaze locked on mine, as if he were waiting for me to look at him again. There’s a softness around the edges of his eyes—a sexy smirk toys on his face. This version of Tristan is my favorite Tristan. The island life looks good on him.
Smiling, I bite the corner of my lip, and I swear I hear the man growl.
I’m wearing a dress that’s a little more daring than I’d usually choose—something tropical, sexy, and fitted just enough to make me feel bold. The dark green fabric clings to my body in all the right places, and I feel his eyes on me as we walk, his gaze lingering on the hem as it sways with each step. It makes my skin tingle, and I bite back a smile, trying to play it cool, even though my heart is racing.
“You’re killing me, Firecracker.” His words are deep and send a vibration through me. I feel him rake over my body as he inhales deeply before casting his gaze forward.
We reach the edge of the property, and the bar comes into view, its neon sign flickering in the dim light. It’s small, the kind of place locals hang out at, and even from here, I can hear the raucous strains of music drifting through the open walls. The lights inside are soft andwarm, and there’s a buzz of energy that makes my stomach flutter with excitement. Or maybe it’s the nerves again.
As we step across the empty parking lot, I glance at him from the corner of my eye, catching a lazy smile on his face. He’s in his element, comfortable and confident, and I envy how easy it seems for him. Meanwhile, my mind races, and my thoughts are a jumble. What am I doing? I’m supposed to be working, supposed to be keeping things professional, but all I want to do is give in to the pull between us. My friend’s voice echoes in my head again:Get out of your head.
Tristan reaches down, and my fingers automatically intertwine with his as we move closer to the lively bar. With a gentle tug, he pulls me to his front as he steps behind me, and we enter the bar. Inside the bar is exactly what I expected—a local dive, half walls separating the inside from the outside, tables scattered around with just a handful of people sitting at them. The stage in the corner has a microphone, and I realize, with a thrill, that it’s karaoke night.
“Karaoke,” I say with a growing grin. I can’t help it—this is exactly the kind of distraction I need.
He chuckles and shakes his head. His lips find the shell of my ear as goosebumps erupt at his nearness. “Don’t even think about it.”
The crowd cheers for the current singer, who’s belting out a song that’s way out of their range, but the energy in the room is contagious. For a moment, I forget about the tension, about everything that’s been weighing on me.
“I’ll get the drinks. You grab us a table,” he says, giving me a playful nudge toward the seating area.
I nod, smiling as I slip through the tables, finding one near the back, but still close enough to the stage. Sitting down, I smooth my dressover my legs and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The cool plastic of the chair feels good against my skin, grounding me as I try to gather myself.
When he returns with two beers, I take one, our fingers brushing in that electric way, and I can’t help but look at him as I sip from the bottle. His hand lingers just a little too long, and my heart skips a beat. Every touch between us is charged with something I’m not sure I can ignore much longer. Maybe I don’t want to.
We drink, listening to the locals take the stage one by one. Some of them are surprisingly good, others…not so much, but everyone’s having a good time, clapping and cheering, regardless of talent. I laugh more than I have in days, my stress melting away with each swig of beer.
