Page 45 of The Honeymoon Hack
I’d spent ten years maintaining our boundaries. Ten years successfully not thinking about Will that way. One kiss, and now I was a hormonal mess?
His friendship was more important than a few minutes of physical pleasure, no matter how explosive those minutes might be.
By the time my shift ended at eight, my stomach was growling so loudly that I was stunned no one commented on it. I’d skipped both lunch and dinner, but I wasn’t ready to face Will yet. As I walked out of the secure area, I replayed the kiss again in my mind, feeling the ghost of his touch.
The last time, it had taken months for things to go back to normal between us. Months of awkward conversations and careful distance before we’d found our way back to the easy friendship we both valued.
We didn’t have months now. We had a mission to complete, a cover to maintain, and my father’s name to clear.
But I couldn’t go back to our room. Not yet.
Chapter 18
Brie
I grabbeda turkey wrap and an iced tea at Davy’s, my hands moving automatically while my brain kept replaying the same beach footage on an endless loop.
It was supposed to have been cover. But I’d whimpered. Whimpered! And the desperate way my leg hooked around his hips? The way I’d imagined his hands invading my bathing suit?
That hunger had been terrifyingly real.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself, earning a curious look from the woman ahead of me in line.
The smart thing would be to take my food back to our room, eat quickly, and pretend nothing happened this morning. But the thought of being trapped with him and that giant bed for hours made my chest tight. I needed a distraction.
Scarlett’s voice echoed in my brain:Gather some intel.
I left the cafeteria and headed through the central hub of The Grotto to one of the game rooms. It would be perfect—background noise, casual conversation with colleagues, and maybe some insight into security protocols.
The room was larger than I’d expected, with multiple gaming stations and a pool table where two men in turbanswere engaged in what looked like a serious match. A larger group had claimed the main television mounted on the far wall to watch hockey. The gaming area was clearly designed with tech introverts in mind—oversized swivel chairs and couches, offering a choice between teamwork and isolation.
Ken and a few other Bridge colleagues sat at one of the racing setups, controllers in hand.
“Another crash and burn,” the guy in the blue shirt muttered as his car spun out spectacularly. “This game is rigged.”
“Maybe try braking before the turns,” Ken suggested with mock helpfulness, not looking away from his own screen as he overtook someone else’s smoking wreckage.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve been playing this thing for months.”
“Skill, not practice,” Ken corrected, which earned him a thrown piece of popcorn.
The familiar dynamic made something in my chest loosen slightly.ThisI could handle.
“Brie!” one of the women called out. What was her name? Sandy? Sarah? “Want to jump in? Jake’s getting destroyed here and could use some company in last place.”
So Blue Shirt was Jake. Perfect. I settled into an empty gaming chair next to them, unwrapping my food. “I’m just going to watch for now—I’m famished. But thanks.”
“Jesus, Ken, you gun it through every turn,” said the guy with glasses I’d mentally dubbed Mr. Glasses. “This isn’t bumper cars.”
“Says the guy who took out half the field trying to pass on the inside,” Sandy-Sarah shot back.
I took a bite of my wrap and watched them play Velocity Championship. Will and I had been playing it online since it came out six months ago. I knew every track, every car’shandling characteristics, and optimal racing lines for each corner. I could probably dominate this game if I wanted to.
Scarlett told you not to stand out.
“This place is enormous,” I said between bites. “I feel like I’ve only seen a fraction of it.”
“Takes months to get oriented,” Ken agreed, his car taking a sharp corner. “Especially when you’re stuck on The Bridge all day.”
