Page 110 of Bitter Rival

Yawning, I plod up the stairs. Every muscle in my body aches. Muscles I didn’t even know I had. “You should have had a swimming pool installed.”

“I’ll leave that to the next owner.” He stops outside the bathroom door and turns to me. “Can I tempt you with a cool shower?”

“That’s code for I want to fuck you against the tiled wall, isn’t it?”

With a grin, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the bathroom. “It’s almost like you know me.”

It’s almost like we’re in a real relationship.

After shower sex, we tumble into bed for our afternoon siesta. My skin is cool from the shower and with the fans blowing on me and Beckett’s arms wrapped around me, it’s utter bliss.

I’m so exhausted, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

When I wake, there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, a text from Beckett telling me that he’s gone out to pick up Chinese food for dinner, and two missed calls from Anna.

I wander downstairs, phone in hand.

The air has cooled down since this afternoon and it’s the perfect temperature for al fresco dining, so after I’ve set the coffee table in anticipation of our late dinner, I drop onto the outdoor sofa and call Anna.

“He’s back,” Anna says in lieu of a greeting. “Now that he has the keys, he thinks he can treat your apartment like a hotel. Well, let me tell you, I’m going to give that boy a piece of my mind.”

I sigh. “Please don’t upset yourself over it. I’ll deal with it when I get home.”

“I need to look out for you,” she says. “Someone has to.”

I smile. “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I can’t help it. I have a feeling he’s up to no good.”

Chances are, she’s right. If Finn is back in Brooklyn, that means he hasn’t done anything to change his situation or mend the bridges he’s burned.

I’ve been brushing things under the carpet and making excuses for Finn for too long. That needs to stop. But that’s not a conversation we can have over the phone so it will have to wait until I’m back in New York, and we can talk face to face.

Yet another reason why I’m not so eager to leave.

After dinner, Beckett and I are lounging on the outdoor sofa. Our empty Chinese containers are strewn across the coffee table and I’m too full to move.

The sun is setting over the vineyard, bathing the world in brilliant oranges and pinks, and I can’t help but marvel at the view.

It’s one of those glorious sunsets that reminds you of how much beauty there is in this world. The kind of sunset that makes you feel grateful to be alive.

It’s so beautiful I want to weep.

Not only because of the sunset, but because our time together is running out.

We’ve reached a level of domesticity that’s become addictive.

We eat all our meals together, work together, share a home and a bed and a life.

We laugh together, tease each other, challenge each other.

We discuss books and movies and current events and with each new layer he reveals of himself, I fall a little harder.

I don’t care what our agreement was—what we have together goes beyond just sex. I’ve never had this kind of intimacy with anyone, not even with Finn. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to believe that when the three months are up we’ll be going our separate ways but apparently that’s still the plan.

“So what are you going to do after you leave here?” I ask, ignoring the way my stomach sinks at the mere mention of it. How am I going to give all of this up? How will I be able to walk away from him? “Now that you’ve sold your company, what’s next?”

Beckett props his feet on the coffee table and laces his hands behind his head, his eyes on the view. “A new startup.”

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