Sweet Cheeks(38)

“But Hayes—”

“No, but Hayes, Jenna. You’ve texted me at least thirty times in the last few hours. I’m on vacation. This is my time. Not yours. Not the studio’s. Any problems you’re having, you’ve created yourself. So deal with them. I’ve gotta go. My cell will be off the rest of the trip.”

I hang up my phone and clench my fists. I hate this nightmare I’m in but am so very thankful for the reprieve. For Saylor and a chance at temporary normalcy instead of the crazy of my life.

Why the hell did I ever agree to go along with Jenna’s shit?

I have no intention of turning my phone off but when a new text alerts—yet another from Jenna—I put it on Do Not Disturb. Shoving it in my pocket, I figure it’s time to get out of here for a while and explore. But when I come to the doorway of Saylor’s room, I stop. Just stop and watch her unpack her things. Efficient in her movements, she never breaks from folding her clothes to look out the window where the breeze blows in to admire the crystal clear water. She’s all business.

Everything about her trip here is. And yet I know from Ryder she’s been working nonstop to make the bakery a success. Starting her life from scratch after being with the prick for six years took courage. And then to realize her friends found the Layton’s clout and money more alluring than her friendship? That had to have been brutal.

And lonely.

How could they just drop her like that? Cut her out of their lives and forgo her friendship?

Fuck. Pot? Meet kettle.

The parallels between Saylor and me, and the fallout between her and Mitch, are getting a bit ridiculous now. Nothing like making me feel like I’m more of an asshole with each and every similarity that comes to light.

But that’s why I’m here. To redeem myself. To heal old wounds.

And it’s all of these revelations that confirm how hard it must have been for her to call me—the guy who hurt her just as badly—and take me up on my offer to help.

She tucks some hair behind her ear and then tightens the sash on her robe. Those legs-for-days beg me to take a long look at them. And damn. They’re definitely worth a second look.

It’s like I know her but don’t. It’s a fucked-up feeling for a man not used to caring at all. Not needing to.

She continues her methodical movements. Unpack. Unfold. Refold. Place in the drawer.

What happened to the spitfire personality? The screw-you attitude? The girl who didn’t care who was watching or what they thought? Is it because of that fucker? Did Layton steal that from her? Is that what her silence was telling me earlier when she told me he wasn’t worth it? Why would he tame the fearless side that made her who she was?

Time to make her cut loose, and get the girl back I used to know with the wicked smile and wild eyes.

Her phone rings. It startles both of us but her back’s still to me. “Dee, what’s up?” She pauses refolding a T-shirt. “Again? Seriously? Christ. Call the same place we used before. See if he can get the temperature to steady so you can manage until I get back. Then I’ll figure something out . . . Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate you taking care of it for me.”

She tosses her phone on the bed and sighs out loud.

“Five-minute warning.”

She yelps and spins around. Her hand goes immediately to the opening of her robe on her chest, while her eyes—blue and wide—lower momentarily. Every woman loves the V. Thank fuck working out is part of my job for most roles because mine’s definitely defined.

And she sure as shit just noticed.

“Five-minute warning?”

“Yep.” Eyes up here, Ships. Then again, feel free to look away. “That’s how much time you have to get ready before we leave.”

Her lips shock into an O. My mind fills with images I shouldn’t have. Of what can slip between them. And it doesn’t help when I glance down to see her nipples tight against the thin material of the robe.

“What do you mean?”

Eyes up, Whitley.

I hold my hand out to her. “First, I’m taking your phone away. And then we’re going exploring.”

“You want my phone?”

Among other things. If a robe is having this effect on me, causing me to want things I can’t have, then . . .

“Yep. Mine’s gone off what feels like a hundred times already and is driving me up a wall, and by the sound of your call, yours is stressing you out, too. So I think we need to turn our phones off and unplug this weekend.”

“Unplug? You’re serious, aren’t you?”

A flash of her legs as she shifts her feet and her robe parts.

“As a heart attack.” I look down to my outstretched hand and then back up to her eyes. “We’re in paradise, Ships.” One side of her lips curls up and I know I’m winning her over. “Send a text to Ryder or whoever that was and let them know your cell is off so no one worries that you’ve been abducted by Uptight Ursula. Then turn it off and hand it over. I’ll do mine at the same time.”