by Piper Lawson
A moment later, a hotel attendant wheels a cart into the room.
“We all know why you’re here,” Jax says as Finn nods to the attendant, who fixes his drink. “Tyler and I are part of a consortium looking to purchase Wicked.”
“We want to retain the existing slate of talent,” I continue, shifting back in my seat to survey the table. “Including you.”
In addition to Jax and me, there’s Finn and two other artists.
“And you elicit our support through threats and violence,” Finn quips, stirring his coffee.
“That was personal.” My voice is more composed than yesterday because I need it to be. “This is business.”
The other reason it’s easier to be composed is because Annie’s not here distracting us both by being her.
Which reminds me she and our friends are heading for an adventure across the island today, and Jax and I are the suckers in self-inflicted weekend detention until we can hammer out an arrangement.
I tug on my hair as if that can transport me out of this room.
One of the artists, Den, a strong guy with kind eyes who does mellow R&B music, leans in. “You left Wicked on bad terms after a legal battle, Jax. What makes us think you have the company’s best interests at heart?”
Jax rubs a hand over his jaw. He looks as if he could be on stage any second even though he hasn’t performed in a few years and is officially retired from that part of his career. “Because I was part of what it used to be. I know it can be better. The music industry is evolving, and we can be on the right side of progress or not.”
Flash, a woman with a bleach-blond mohawk and electric blue eyes, frowns. “And you two would be running it?”
I shake my head. “We’d hire a CEO to run the day to day. Any use of company assets by Jax or myself would be contracted separately. Everything would be done above board and ensure there’s no conflict of interest.”
Finn chuckles. “This whole thing screams conflict of interest. Why should we trust you?”
Jax jumps in. “Let’s be clear on what will happen if we don’t do this deal. You start over at a new label. Not the end of the world. But without a good offer like ours, Wicked will run out of cash, which means not only will you not get another deal there, you’ll have to get in line with other secured creditors to try to get your piece of existing royalties owed to you.”
Jax’s “bad cop” brashness shuts them up, but instead of confident, they look uneasy.
I study the table. “Finn, here’s why you trust it. Because no matter what’s between us personally? We’re artists too. And we’re the best chance you have.”
15
We’re all scheduled to meet at the beach at noon, but I’m the first one there except for an attendant who appears to be working on setting up the wooden altar we’ll use for our rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding the following day.
I’m distracted by a cage with a bright-orange bird sitting in the sand. The same kind of bird I saw last night from our villa.
“Well, hello,” I say, bending to my knees as I come up next to the birdcage. The white sand is smooth against my skin as my jean shorts ride up.
The bird peers back at me, its green head jerking back and forth.
“She’s beautiful,” I say softly. “What’s her name?”
“Hugo,” the attendant informs me. “It’s a male. The female fruit doves aren’t as brightly colored.”
“And he’s here to get a tan?” I ask with a smile.
“He gets bored up by the buildings. Figured I’d bring him with me for an outing.”
“They live around here? I saw one behind my villa.”
“All over the island,” the man confirms. “This one hurt his wing recently, and we’ve been keeping him grounded until he heals.”
I search his bright feathers for an indication of a disability.
“He’s almost right. Another couple of weeks, should be,” the attendant says as if reading my mind. “Then he’ll go back to his mate. She’ll wait for him.”
“Of course she will,” I say dryly, scanning the length of the beach.
I rise from the sand as Elle, Beck, and Rae arrive. “You guys ready for our adventure? We’re going to this secluded cove.”
“Hell yes. I’m going to show it to my entire audience,” Beck promises.
“No, you’re not,” Elle retorts.
“Where’s our boat?” Rae asks, scanning the horizon.
“Dad and Haley and the kids are taking a boat. Tyler too. We’re taking better transportation.”
Tyler texted to say they were nearly done and would meet us there. I shelve my feelings about that and look past my friends. I see a string of horses heading up the beach, a rider on the first one only.
“Wild West!” Beck hollers. “I’m so ready for this.”
When I arranged this with the wedding planner and the resort, I’d imagined Tyler and me riding off into the sunset. He’d told me he’d never been on a horse before—something about a fear of horses that he promised, after I teased him about it, wasn’t really that bad—and I figured it was about time.
It was going to be romantic and cheesy and perfect.
But he’s not here. I shove the thought away and resolve to enjoy it until he is.
The trail leader, a woman of middle age with a warm smile and a fastidious eye for her horses and how we engage with them, introduces us to our mounts and tells us the basics. Most of us haven’t ridden before, and when I get on, I’m grateful for the saddle to help me keep my balance.
Once we’re all on horses—mine is a beautiful black mare named Ilsa—we head in a row…
Out toward the sea.
“Excuse me. Pretty sure these are land animals,” Elle calls.
The guide turns in her saddle. “The cove we’re going to requires a bit of off-roading.”
She leads us into the shallow water, the horses seemingly content to plod through the water that brushes the bottom of my stirrups. The rhythmic sloshing of the sea against Ilsa’s body is strangely comforting.
I sigh in the sunshine, loving the feel of it on my skin, the steady creature beneath me. They carry us around the beach and beyond some rocks.
My mind goes blissfully blank as we round the last shelf of rocks, revealing a new beach. There are stunningly green trees, white sand the length of a football field, birds circling, and craggy rocks at either end.
“It’s very challenging to get here except via the water,” the guide informs us as our horses plod up onto the beach, stopping next to one another as all of us look around our new surroundings. “The forests are protected, so there’s no access by land vehicle from the main resort.”
“It’s incredible,” Elle admits.
My phone rings, and I grab for where it’s wedged in my pocket, hoping it’s Tyler.
It’s not.
“Miss Jamieson,” the hotel coordinator chirps over the phone, “Mr. King has arrived. Shall I have him meet you?”
I’ve been working on this for months, but hearing it’s happened just as Rae’s horse stops next to mine, the knot in my gut twists tighter. “Yes. Thank you.”
Since Rae mentioned the name Echo Entertainment, I’ve been thinking about it. But she’s determined to have it out with the company, and who better than him?
Except this is our wedding weekend. We only have a couple dozen guests, and it took everything I had to get him here in the first place. If Rae confronts him…
Ugh. Each possible outcome is worse than the last. From having two wedding guests at each other’s throats to him actually leaving.
We dismount, and the guide sets the horses to graze at the foot of the trees, where little sprouts of grass or other plants are growing. She tells us about the plants and animals here as she unpacks the saddlebags.
“Wait a second—isn’t there supposed to be lunch?” Beck asks.
“That will be here with the boat,” she tells him.
I look up into the tr
ees, hearing the same birds I heard at our villa.
“Fruit doves?” I ask the guide.
“Very good. His mate could be around here somewhere. Most doves mate for life. They’ll always return to one another, year after year.”
“That’s ineffective. They should have a dove crew,” Beck tosses as he heads out toward the water, stripping down to his shorts. “Like a harem.”
He wades into the water, digging in the pocket of his shorts.
“What are you doing?” I call after him.
“Filming for my audience.” Before he can hold up his phone, he screeches, bending at the waist as if he’s been struck. “Something just brushed my leg.”
“Sea monster,” Rae deadpans. “I read about them in the literature in my room.”
Beck narrows his gaze. “Not funny!” But it touches him again, apparently, and he drops his phone. “Fucking hell…”
He drops to his knees, searching in the shallow water until he produces the device. Hitting the power button again and again only makes him bellow in frustration.
The next moment, a sound in the distance has us looking toward a boat coming around the edge of the rocks. The catamaran is sleek, cruising toward shore. On it, I can make out Haley and my dad, plus Sophie’s hands waving in the breeze.
And on the back…
The knot in my chest releases.
I get what the birds feel, waiting for their mates. Knowing instinctively it’s better to go through hell for the one than try to find another.
My family steps off the boat, wading through the few feet of water to get to shore. Tyler’s last, and I take a moment to drink him in.
He’s wearing a black T-shirt, exposing the ink that curls down his strong arms and one of his hands. Board shorts cling to his lean hips. His dark hair falls across his face, his eyes squinting in the sun.
He’s fucking beautiful.
Especially when his gaze locks on me as he makes it to shore.
“I’m late,” he says, stopping in front of me.
“You’re here.”
Tyler does the same inspection of me, working up my legs under the shorts, my tank top, ending on my face. I reach for the hem of my tank top and strip it over my head to reveal the bathing suit underneath.
My fiancé glances past me at our friends and family greeting and chatting and remarking on the beauty of where we are.
“This my punishment?” Tyler says for my ears only.
“What?”
“You. Looking like this. Especially after spending my morning with a bunch of dudes. Mostly dudes,” he amends, reaching for his own shirt.
“How did it go?”
“I think we might have them.”
My attention drifts when Tyler tugs his shirt over his head, revealing his gorgeous body. The cut lines of his abs and pecs, his strong shoulders and biceps and forearms.
Groan indeed.
I take Tyler’s hand and wink. “I have a good feeling.”
He grins, pulling me against him for a hard kiss that has my whole body heated with desire. “So do I, and it has nothing to do with them. I spotted this secluded little cave over there”—he points toward an opening in the rocks near the forest’s edge—“that you and I might need to check out.” His arms band around my waist. “Clothing optional.”
Yes, please.
Over the next couple of hours, we play games, including Sophie’s impromptu “What superpower would you pick?”
Beck chooses flying.
Rae chooses invisibility.
Elle chooses seeing everyone naked.
My dad decides on chainsaw arms—so he can next-level the DIY projects around his house in Dallas. Haley quickly says the ability to heal anyone, shooting Dad a look that has him grinning.
“The ability to be two places at once,” Tyler says.
The answer comes so easily I can tell this week is weighing on him no less than it’s weighing on me.
After we finish lunch, Tyler and I wander down the beach to inspect seashells washed up on the sand.
“I have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a pink-striped murex, its spines perfectly intact.
I take the tiny masterpiece. “It’s beautiful. You found it here?”
He shakes his head. “Earlier this morning on my way to the meeting. I’ve been carrying it around all day.”
My lips curve. “Thanks. I have something for you too.”
I nod behind him, and Tyler turns, squinting into the sun as he spots the jet ski roaring toward the shore. “What the hell…?”
Then his jaw goes slack as recognition sets in. “Did you do this?”
I play innocent as I set the shell back on the sand. “It’s an early wedding gift. And you better like it because it’s too late to send it back.”
16
The man on the jet ski carves his way up to the shore, splashing as he goes. An attendant manning the cat takes it from him as Harrison King steps off.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. I knew he was a few years older, but it’s extra clear seeing him in person. He’s wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned, board shorts underneath. His dirty-blond hair is a mess, his designer sunglasses covering half his sculpted face.
He stalks up the beach with even, purposeful strides and stops in the sand with his bare feet. He tugs off the sunglasses, surveying us with narrowed eyes. Harrison’s attention cuts to my fiancé. Then his imperious face breaks into a grin. “There he is.”
He crosses to Tyler, clapping him on the back, and Tyler does the same. “You’re here. How the hell did that happen?”
“Someone was persistent.” The crisp English accent is one thing, but King looks past my fiancé, his laser eyes finding me.
Tyler introduces me, then I let them catch up as I go over to Rae, who’s drawing in the sand with Sophie. They’re building what looks like a compound with outbuildings and a moat.
“What is this?” I demand.
“It’s Sand City. Less castle, more Coachella. There are ten stages”—Rae gestures to elevated flat platforms—“and a spot for camping.”
“And the truck parking is there,” Sophie points out.
“Right. That’s where you’re going to park when you get your license?”
“Yup. Rae’s going to teach me to drive.”
I notice Harrison watching Rae intently.
“What’s his deal?” she asks under her breath.
“Apparently, he had some big breakup and went from being front page of every tabloid and loving it to a near recluse.”
She doesn’t take her gaze from his. “Girl could do worse than shacking up with that. Long as the place she does it is big enough for him, her, and his ego.”
Guilt floods me. I need to tell her the truth: that Tyler’s friend runs the company she wants to hang by the toes.
But Rae finally seems as if she’s having a good time, and this would ruin it.
She shoves herself out of her seat, dusting off and heading across to where the drinks are.
“Thank you for coming,” I say to Harrison, who approaches but still watches Rae.
“You were obscenely persistent, but I couldn’t miss Tyler’s wedding. Who’s your friend?”
“I don’t think she’s your type.”
He cocks his head, amused. “You’d be surprised how many women are.”
“Exactly.”
The challenge on his face lingers as Tyler approaches, clapping Harrison on the back.
Harrison turns, starting across the sand to get a drink.
“I don’t know how the hell you made this happen. Thank you.” Tyler wraps me in a hug, his strong arms every reward I could’ve wanted.
“You really wanted him here,” I say against his bare shoulder.
I wish I could talk to Tyler about Rae’s situation, but I’m not going to drop this at his feet when he’s grappling with enough already.
He scans the beach behind us before g
rabbing my waist and backing me toward the water, an expression of mischief on his face.
“What are you doing?” I ask, already breathless.
He holds a finger to his lips as the water licks at my calves, then thighs, then waist. He tugs me out toward the catamaran and pulls me behind its shadow.
Then he kisses me, hard and deep enough the crystal waters and beautiful surroundings fall away and I’m drowning in him—his scent, his touch, his taste.
“There might be sea monsters,” I manage when he pulls back, and he snorts.
“I’ll protect you.”
“I’m serious. Beck already found them,” I laugh against his mouth.
“Beck who?”
Tyler’s chocolate eyes are almost black, his hair ruffled from the wind, and the turquoise ocean leaves trails of water that drip off his chin and bead deliciously on his shoulders, sparkling over the canvas of black ink that curls around his chest and arm.
He’s the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. And he’s mine.
Desire washes over me, through me, becomes part of me like the sea.
His scent is wild and familiar at once, the smoky cedar invading my senses. It steals the part of my brain reminding me we’re sharing this beach with a dozen other people.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough he groans. He pulls my hips against his, and the hard ridge of him through the shorts makes me ache.
This week, there’ve been moments he’s felt like a stranger. I feel like a traitor even thinking it when I know deep down he’s the Tyler I love. But between a few stolen moments, I’ve barely seen him.
Now, as if he’s thinking the same thing, he drags me back to him.
Nothing will come between us, say his lips, his tongue, his touch.
His fingers skim my ass under the bathing suit, making little shivers electrify me. Underwater, it’s even better. His touch is a shimmer, a promise, a tease I couldn’t ignore if I wanted to.
“You know what’s wrong with spending the afternoon on a deserted beach with your friends and family?” he murmurs against my ear. The friction of his lips leaves me shivering despite the warmth of the water, of his body.
“What?” My arms band around his neck, the buoyancy making it easy to hook my ankles around his waist. I’m reduced to a barnacle on this man, and I don’t even care.