She nods almost imperceptibly, still breathless. Despite my aching balls and disappointment, I note with immense satisfaction that she didn’t think once about reaching for her phone once I got my hands on her.
TWENTY-THREE
TRINITY
I slideinto an empty seat at the outdoor restaurant, trying not to look as flustered as I feel. My legs still wobble slightly, and my cheeks burn every time I remember what Cash and I did against that banyan tree less than an hour ago. Public sex has always seemed unnecessarily dirty to me—risky and inappropriate—but the memory of his fingers inside me, his body pressed against mine while anyone could have walked around that bend in the trail...
I would have let him do anything to me if Egret hadn’t interrupted us.
What is happening to me? I’m not this person. I don’t make out on hiking trails or have sex in strange beds with men I barely know.
I make lists and plan things and think through consequences.
“There you are.” Josie plops down beside me, her eyes bright despite the dark circles beneath them. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
“Just enjoying the scenery.” I reach for my water glass,hoping the cool liquid will help calm my racing pulse. “The hiking trails here are beautiful.”
“I bet that’s not all you were enjoying.” Her grin is knowing as she glances at my hair, which I hastily tried to tame before arriving at lunch. “You and Cash disappeared for quite a while.”
Heat floods my face. “We were just talking.”
“Sure you were.” She winks, then eyes the plate I’ve piled high with oysters on ice, grilled prawns, and a small mountain of crab legs. “Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.” I crack open a crab leg, trying to act casual despite feeling like every person in the restaurant can somehow tell what I’ve been doing. “Want some?”
Josie’s eyes fix on my plate, her face suddenly paling. She swallows hard and looks away. “No, thanks.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I set down my fork, noticing her slightly greenish complexion. “You look a little queasy.”
“I’m fine.” She takes a small sip of her water. “Just not in the mood for seafood.”
I study her more carefully, noting the way she’s barely touched her own plate of grilled chicken and field greens. “Do you want to go check out the flower market after lunch? The concierge said it’s only open until four, and we need to make final decisions on the centerpieces.”
Josie’s eyes flicker to my seafood again, and she visibly gulps. “Actually, I think I might need to skip that. Would you mind going alone?”
My eyebrows go up in surprise. “Of course not, but?—”
“I’m just feeling a little nauseous.” She presses a hand to her stomach, looking genuinely uncomfortable. “Must have been the boat ride yesterday or something.”
My event-planner brain immediately shifts into problem-solving mode. “I can reschedule if you’re notfeeling well. The wedding’s still days away—we have time.”
“No, no.” She waves away my concern. “The flowers are important, and I trust your judgment completely. You know exactly what I like.”
I reach over to feel her forehead, my protective big sister instincts kicking in. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe you should lie down for a bit?”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She stands, steadying herself against the table. “I’ll text you later, okay? Just pick whatever flowers you think will look best with the color scheme.”
“Feel better,” I call after her, watching as she hurries toward the resort, one hand still pressed against her stomach.
I turn back to my seafood feast, realizing I now have an afternoon to myself. Part of me feels relieved—I could use some time alone to think about what’s happening between me and these men.
The other part feels a flicker of disappointment that I’ll be navigating the flower market solo. It might have been nice to have someone along, someone to help me carry arrangements and offer opinions.
Someone like Cash, with his analytical mind. Or Lucas, with his eye for beauty. Or Matheo, with his photographer’s sense of composition. Or even Kyren, who might make the whole tedious process more fun.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge these thoughts. They’re paid companions, not actual partners. I shouldn’t be thinking of them as if they can be at my beck and call for every mundane task.
As if they’re really mine.
