“Wanna join me for my run?” He smirks, his head the only part of him peeking back through the door.
I gape at him.
“I swear to God, Owen—out!” I hiss, mortified.
“Okay, okay! I’m going,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he finally slides out and pulls the door closed.
Just before I see his tall frame exit the bathroom, he mutters one last thing that almost melts me into a puddle on the shower floor.
“Hell of a way to start my morning, by the way,” he teases, his tone flirty. “We should do that more often.”
We should do that more often.
I’m incapable of doing anything but staring as he leaves me alone, standing there naked, frozen in place with my heart beating out of my chest.
TWELVE
Owen
Bottles of rum cover the wooden table like trophies.
Some are clear, while the rest range from amber to dark as maple syrup. The bottles are lined up in scattered rows, the sun-faded labels peeling like they’ve seen one too many summers.
Shoved right into the sand beside the table is a hand-painted sign that reads:Bambarra Rum Tasting. Try the Island Favorites!
In front of the sign stands a cooler full of ice, a stack of tiny plastic cups, and a woman in a neon Costa Cay T-shirt, here to host the rum tasting event.
The sun hangs high and relentlessly overhead, bathing the beach in rays of gold.
Beyond the mismatched bottles of rum lies the ocean, spreading wide in every shade of blue imaginable—turquoise near the shore and deep sapphire farther out.
Soft waves roll in, slow and unhurried, while vacationers drift through the shallows as if they haven’t got a single worry in the world.
It’s a beautiful day, easily the best weather we’ve had since we got here.
Butfuck.
Nothing compares to how my morning started.
Seeing Meadow naked in the shower—even with her arms crossed over herself, trying to cover up—just about sent me over the fucking edge.
I was the one who suggested we attend the rum tasting today, hoping like hell it would help get the visual of her out of my head.
But it won’t.
I know it won’t.
It’s seared into my brain forever.
I didn’t want to wake Meadow by knocking, so I just cracked the bedroom door and peeked inside to find it pitch black and quiet. I was sure that she was asleep.
I remember standing there for a beat, peering into the dark, half-conscious and still foggy from sleep, trying to decide if I was even alive enough for a run yet.
I don’t remember seeing any light under the bathroom door. Don’t remember noticing if it was shut or open. I was still waking up, which is why I needed a cold shower.
My brain was still offline as my body moved into her room.
When I stepped into the bathroom, assuming it was empty, I shut the door behind me and went about my business. Completely unaware that Meadow was stripped down in the shower.
