Page 95 of Sand in My Boots

“Resort guests who think they’re privileged to something because they can afford it. It’s always those who are rude and want everything handed to them for free, even though they have more money than they know what to do with.”

“Rich snobs. I know them.” Dealt with them all my life.

“Uber-wealthy snobs. Like they flew to the islands on their private jet. They have so much money and can’t understand the simple act of being kind. A ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ go a long way.”

“Same. I’ve had authors email me with no tact whatsoever. Ask what I’ll do for them for free. Then there’s the client who rested on her laurels. Her books sucked, by the way, but she sold a gazillion of them. Don’t ask me how. I landed on her radar at one point, and I thought I had hit the lottery.” I pause, removing my feet from Cameron’s hands and relaxing back against the couch. “It took us three weeks and about fifteen changes to finally end on a design. She said she loved it. Imagine my surprise when within two months, the cover I slaved over was changed again. The work was mediocre at best. Needless to say, haven’t worked with her since.”

“Hope you charged her for all the changes.”

“You better believe I did. More than my usual clients by the end. And she didn’t bat an eye. I used to keep tabs on her, but then I realized it was doing more harm to me, so I stopped.”

“I like that about you.”

“What?”

“You’re true to yourself.”

“It’s come with time. I wasn’t always this way.” Which is the truth.

When I first started out, I played a mean version of the comparison game. I convinced myself my work wasn’t good enough to sell books. Then I found an author who made me realize I was wrong. She had me design a three-book series, and when it took off, she lauded the quality of my work, plastered my name all over her social media, and some of her friends’ as well. Word-of-mouth is a powerful tool for a small business like mine. And when a more well-known author raves about you, well, it helps you recognize your worth.

“Do you have a preference for dinner?” Cameron asks to change the subject.

“Want to do breakfast for dinner?”

He scrunches his nose, indicating he doesn’t. “I was thinking more like sushi.”

I wave my hands down my body, clad only in an old T-shirt of Cameron’s. “I’m not getting dressed again. And I need to do laundry if we’re going to the grocery store tomorrow. We can do that tomorrow night?”

“There’s a fantastic place that delivers. It’s super close, and they’re speedy. We can throw in a load of laundry while we wait.” His eyes roam down and back up, his tongue peeking out as his eyes reach my chest. “This is a good look for you. I think you should dress like this whenever we’re staying home, even if you have clean clothes.” He trails his finger up the inside of my calf and inner thigh, stopping where the hem of the shirt falls.

“Easy access for you.”

He slowly lifts his eyes to mine. “Yes, that. But also, you look super sexy in this T-shirt. Sexy enough to eat.”

I sit up, my fingers reaching to his chin. “The perfect outfit to scruff me up.”

His eyes widen. “I’d prefer you naked, but . . . hmm. This could work too. This could work very well. Should we forget dinner at the moment and start with dessert?”

“I love when you read my mind, Came.”

“I love you being mine, Jude.”

I barely have time to process his claim before I’m in the air, in his arms, and he’s carrying me to the bedroom.

I’m going to be sore for days. Not only where he’s going to rough up my skin. Knowing Cameron, he won’t stop with “dessert.”

Two weeks of “living” with Cameron have been interesting and eye-opening. In the best way.

He works a lot. Maybe “works” isn’t the correct term. He spends a lot of time at the resort. Whether or not he’s working, he’s there. I’ve learned he used to eat almost all of his meals there, but I’m slowly breaking that habit. I make him help in the kitchen for at least one meal per day. The grumbling is lessening.

We don’t go out much, unless Whispering Tide counts. Honestly, it’s refreshing. I don’t need a man to impress me with fancy dates and shiny new things. What Cameron and I have is exactly the life I’ve always pictured. Living on the beach in a beautiful place adds to the exuberance of it all.

I never want to leave.

Unfortunately, the day has come for me to pack up and head back to reality. This time, Cameron’s coming with me. For a quick trip to see what my life’s like.

Our relationship is new, we’re still finding our way, and for us, we have the distance to figure out. Though if he asked me to move to Magnolia Cay, I’d have a hard time turning him down. I enjoy my space and life in Georgia, but I can see myself living here permanently. I’d be trading one sibling for another, but Elisa has had her time. It’s Preston’s turn. I have no delusions I’d actually see him more, but knowing he’s only down the beach—because he spends more time at Whispering Tide than Cameron—gives me hope we’d find some kind of coexistence in the same vicinity.