Page 11 of The Scout

She tilted her head, watching me with knowing eyes. “You’re wound tight tonight.”

I drained half the glass in one swallow. “Long day.”

“Hmm.” She set her drink down and stretched, the robe slipping lower, baring more of her. An invitation. A reminder of why I was here. “You should let me fix that.”

I should have wanted that. Should have let her pull me down onto that couch, drown in the familiar press of her body, in the easy heat she offered. That was the deal—no attachments, no expectations, just relief in its simplest form.

But as she leaned in, her fingers skimming over my forearm, my mind flashed back to something else.

Isabel.

Her lips parting on a sharp breath, the way she squared her shoulders when she was nervous, the slight hitch in her voice when she threw my own words back at me.

Fuck.

I set my glass down with more force than necessary and exhaled slowly. Gigi gave me a look, amusement flickering across her face. She might not have known the details, but she saw it—saw that something had shifted in me. She wasn’t stupid.

But she also wasn’t the type to ask questions she didn’t want the answers to.

She only smirked and leaned in, pressing her lips just beneath my jaw, her voice smooth as sin. “Let’s get you out of that head of yours.”

I let her. Let her drag me under, let her pull me into the night the way she always did.

But even as my hands moved over her body, as her nails bit into my skin, something sat heavy in my chest.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t know if I was trying to chase something down—or run from it.

The shower was quick,efficient. I let the steaming water sluice over my skin, washing away the sweat, the scent of sex, the faint traces of perfume that didn’t belong to me. When I stepped out, the room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of sheets as Gigi stretched lazily on the bed, watching me with half-lidded eyes.

I didn’t linger. Didn’t speak. Just moved to the bedside table, pulling a neat stack of bills from my wallet and setting them down. A familiar routine. Clean. Simple.

Gigi’s voice cut through the quiet. “You don’t have to pay me.”

I didn’t look at her. “Everyone else does.”

She exhaled softly, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t push. She just rolled onto her side, tucking the sheets around her like she was suddenly cold.

I grabbed the nearly empty bottle of bourbon from the dresser, slipping it into my coat pocket before heading for the door. The night air hit me like a slap as I stepped outside, the city stretching out before me in shadowed silence.

I drove without thinking, letting instinct guide me, the bottle heavy against my ribs as I took one hand off the wheel and twisted the cap loose. The burn of liquor hit the back of my throat as the streets blurred past. Not toward home. Not toward anything familiar.

Toward the water. Toward the old house on Sullivan’s Island that still stood, weather-worn and waiting.

Toward the past I never stopped wanting to relive.

5

ISABEL

The lobby of The Palmetto Rose was a kaleidoscope of motion—guests gliding through on their way to the shops, porters with luggage carts stacked high, and the soft sounds of polite conversations underscored by the clink of glassware from the adjacent bar. I stood behind the marble front desk, my hands moving automatically as I entered room assignments into the system.

It was a routine I could do in my sleep, and most days, I liked the rhythm of it. But today? My thoughts were everywhere except where they were supposed to be.

Last night had unraveled me.

It wasn’t just the party or the humiliating fiasco with Pia and Ben. It was him. Ryker Dane. His presence lingered like smoke—unshakable, heavy, and far too tempting for someone like me. I could still hear the way his voice dipped when he spoke, the edge of command in every word. It wasn’t fair for a man to carry that much power in silence, let alone with a single glance.

And yet, I wondered if he had noticed me beyondthe bare minimum of his job. Will asked him to look out for me, and Ryker delivered. End of story.

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