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“Yeah.”
“Guess you’ve got a date, now.”
Chapter 6
Bain
It was past time I told her the truth about who I was.
At the beginning of this, after that ball achingly fucking hot night, I’d left her to her illusions because I’d thought they wouldn’t matter, but it didn’t sit right with me to lie.
I was an ex-convict, technically, juvenile or not, but that didn’t change shit about me as a person.
I’m not a liar, and she deserves some fucking truth after the way her jackass ex treated her.
I halted in front of the door to her suite – number stolen from the front desk, because I was the boss, so fuck it – and knocked once.
Footsteps, and then the door creaked inward. Hazel appeared, framed by the window on the wall behind her, offering a view of the beach and the falling evening, stars in the sky, a distant fire out on the sands.
She was positively resplendent in her bridesmaid’s dress, a yellow and pink affair with a sash at the waist.
“You look amazing,” I said and handed her the bouquet of flowers I’d chosen.
She blinked at me as if she’d only just registered my presence, then took them and buried her nose in the center of a plumeria flower and inhaled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I – didn’t expect anyone to come up here, and also, no, I don’t look amazing, I look like a slutty version of this flower.” She waved the bouquet at me.
Hazel was totally right, she matched the colors of it precisely, except for the creamy white skin above and below the hems of the tight bodycon dress.
“So, the flowers are beautiful, but you’re not?”
She smiled. “You’ve got me there.”
“I’ve always had you,” I said and stepped into her room.
Hazel backpedaled, stepping carefully in stiletto heels and watching my every step. I was the shark in friggin Jaws, approaching through murky waters.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You’re flushed.”
“Yeah, I didn’t expect anyone, and when you knocked, I thought you were my ex.”
Jealousy thudded in my chest. “Your ex?”
“Yeah, I – he’s close friends with the bride and she probably expected me to be out on the sands this morning taking more photos and I got a bit sidetracked. And I guess that’s – ugh, I’m doing it again.”
God, she was adorable when she rambled like that. I closed in on her, a massive presence in the hotel room, and swept her into my arms, pressing my lips to hers. Fuck, I could take her right here, right now, on the bed for once. Rumple the sheets in my own hotel.
Fuck the wedding and her friend, and that idiot ex.
She’s leaving tomorrow, dick wad. You’ll never see her again.
“Oh,” she moaned, softly, and kissed me back, hard. Her fingers caught the lapels of my suit jacket and tugged. She dragged it from my shoulders. “I need you,” she whispered. “I need you, Bain.”
But this wasn’t right. She had to know the truth, first. “Wait,” I said and held her out, my thumbs against the warm, silken skin of her shoulders. “There’s something you need to know. Firstly, my last name.”
“Oh, god,” she said and palmed her forehead. “You’re absolutely right. This has been a whirlwind. I’m an idiot.”
“Stop saying that about yourself.” I took her hand in mine and kissed it.
“Hazel Wright,” she said. “That’s my name.”
Strangely, it rang a bell in the back of my mind. I shook it off. “Hazel Wright. That’s perfect. The perfect name for the perfect woman.” Since when are you a mushy asshole. There’s an image.
“What’s your name?”
“It’s more than a name,” I replied. “You need to know that I’m not who you think I am. First off, my name is Bain Mitchell, and – what? Hazel? You’ve gone pale.”
The bouquet of flowers tumbled to the floor. “M-Mitchell?”
“Yeah?”
“Your last name is – no, are you serious? It’s probably a coincidence. It has to be.”
“Hey, you wanna let me in on what’s happening?” I raised an eyebrow at her.
A knock sounded at the open door behind me, followed by a sharp inhale, and the clearing of a throat. “I told you,” a familiar voice said. “Didn’t I tell you, Carly?”
What the actual fuck. Is that…?
I spun toward the interlopers, Hazel’s hand still tucked into mine.
My brother, Jacob, stepped onto the cream carpet in the hotel room, closely followed by a blonde chick I’d seen wearing the bride’s shirt at the bachelorette party. She looked as if someone had slapped her over the head with a fish, albeit in a sparkling white wedding gown and matching veil, now tugged back over her head.
And my bro? Fuck, he wore that shit-eating grin I hadn’t seen in a couple years. Not since the last time I’d deigned to visit the mainland and realized he hadn’t changed one bit from the asshole my parents had made him into.
