Page 48 of Must Have Been Love

“Call me when you’re ready to come home,” he calls out to Autumn.

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the cocktails, trying to choose between a sex on the beach and a screaming orgasm.

The night air is cool as we step outside onto the planked veranda. It dropped since Saturday and I can feel it. According to Mylene when I picked up my coffee this morning, it will get warmer soon. By mid summer even at night the temperatures barely dip below seventy.

But my bare arms are prickling at the icy sensation of the salty air as the breeze hits them.

“You cold?” Hudson asks.

“It’s okay. I’ll be quick. I just wanted to thank you for pushing the licence forward.”

He blinks like he wasn’t expecting that. “It only took some phone calls. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

Our eyes lock again. “Then you’re welcome.”

“Autumn showed me the designs for the bar,” I continue. “There’s no way I can accept you paying for them.”

He runs his thumb over his stubbled jaw. He really does look tired. “Is this something we can discuss tomorrow?” he asks.

“About tomorrow…” I trail off. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think I have what you need.”

“Is this because of the licence?” he asks. “I can call and ask them to rescind it.”

“No,” I answer.

“The remodel then?”

“I don’t think we should mix business and pleasure,” I say, suddenly latching onto the idea. “That’s all.”

“The remodel will be mutually beneficial,” he tells me. In the distance the ferry is coming into port. The last run of the night – I’ve gotten used to the timings. Gotten used to a lot of things around here.

“How will it benefit you?” I ask.

“Because the nightlife on this island is dire. My guests expect a certain level of entertainment. Originally I wanted to provide it by buying this place, but since you refuse to sell…” He gives me a half-smile. “Then the second best option is to pay for it to be renovated. To the standard they expect.”

Oh.

“So it’s not because you want to have sex with me?”

He frowns. “You think I’m paying for the privilege?”

When he puts it like that it sounds super sordid. “I don’t know,” I say, confused now. “All I know is that it feels wrong to accept something like that.”

He lets out a long breath. “I’m really fucking tired,” he says, looking more human than I think I’ve ever seen him. “It’s been a long day, I’ve had to deal with people who hate my guts and I just don’t know what to say to make you understand that these two things are perfectly separate. I can want to improve the bar and want to spend time with you. In two very different, very exclusive situations.”

I let out a breath. “You want to spend time with me?” I hate that my heart lights up at that.

“I believe that’s what a date entails.” He reaches out, his fingers trailing over my jaw. Stupid fireworks explode low in my stomach.

No, no no. I can’t let myself respond to him like that. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” I whisper.

He doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead he threads it through my hair, pulling me against him until my cheek is pressed against his strong chest, his head is lowered as he breathes in my hair.

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