Reno waits for me to unlock my door and then hands me my clothes, shoes, and bag. I give him one more peck on the lips before going inside and sliding the door closed. He stands there with his hands in thepockets of his low-slung shorts, which he threw on to walk me to my cottage. He’s commando, giving me a primo view of his imprint.
His head bobs toward the safety bar, reminding me to engage it, and I do, but my eyes don’t leave his. I want to say screw rule one and invite him inside, but I know that’s only asking for trouble.
So I close the vertical blinds, ignoring the ache in my gut when I can no longer see him.
Rule one is an asshole.
Chapter 16
How Reno Swain ended up in a nail salon
Here’showmyThursdaywent. I got up, ran, and did my daily workout before meeting Juliette for lunch. Then we hit the beach, got horny after a couple hours, and went back to her room for some afternoon delight.
When we were both fully satisfied, she wrote a couple chapters until it was time to go to the dining room, and afterward, we had more sex, which was just as phenomenal as Wednesday night’s romp against the door.
And now… I’m back in my cottage alone. It’s been the only dark spot on an otherwise fantastic day. And that sends my mind into a tailspin. I’ve never really enjoyed sharing a bed with a woman. Well, not for sleep anyway. I’m a big guy, and when it’s time to snooze, I like to sprawl out and get comfortable. But as I lay on my back on the empty bed, watching the shadow of the rotating ceiling fan, I feel the phantom presence of Juliette along my side, like she’s supposed to be here but isn’t.
Which is probably why rule one is a good idea. I don’t need to be having those kinds of thoughts.
Unable to sleep, I get up and pull out my laptop, which I haven’t used a single time since I arrived on Sunday evening. At dinner tonight, Juliette had asked if I wanted to see her WIP. I told her hell yes; if she wanted to get kinky, I was down with it. She’d laughed and explained that W-I-P stood forwork in progress. In other words, the book she was currently working on.
Tucking my laptop beneath my arm, I detour to the window facing cottage four and peek out. I can see the light around the edges of theblinds in Juliette’s bedroom. “Pretty little night owl,” I mumble, knowing she’s probably writing away.I wish…
Shaking my head, I settle back onto the bed, find the document she emailed, and open it.
Then for the next few hours, I get lost in her words. The characters, the humor, the storyline. Every bit of it makes me want to devour more of it. I never thought I’d be a guy who reads romance novels, but here we are.
The ocean laps softly against the shore on Friday afternoon, and I open my eyes and stare up at the blue sky above. A group of clouds lined up in thin rows catches my attention.
“Those clouds look like an air filter,” I say, and Juliette lowers her sunglasses and follows my gaze.
With a giggle, she says, “I always think that too. Those are cirrocumulus clouds.”
I roll onto my side on the bright beach blanket we’re sharing and prop myself on my elbow. She is so goddamn gorgeous.
“I love how smart you are,” I tell her, and she scoffs.
“Need I remind you I’ve been wearing that playtime pineapple bracelet the entire time I’ve been here until you told me what it means?” She pulls her sunglasses back up to cover her eyes and announces, “I’m an idiot.”
I scowl at her. I hate when she says she’s not smart.
“You are not an idiot. Just because you’re not well-versed in a lifestyle you haven’t been exposed to before, it doesn’t mean you’re not intelligent. It’s obvious by reading your books that your verbal skills are off the charts. Hell, I had to look up at least ten words when I was reading your WIP last night.” I kiss her temple. “You are brilliant.”
Her face flushes, and I don’t think it’s from the sun. “Thanks, Reno. I know I can be a bit ditzy sometimes, but…” She pauses. “I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder when I was eight.” Her teeth fidget with her bottom lip before she continues. “It made me feel dumb because it took me so much longer to get my work done at school than the other kids. I tried medication, but both my dads agreed it dulled me.”
My lips quirk up on one side. “Juliette, I couldn’t even imagine you being dull.”
“Oh, I was like a zombie when I was medicated,” she informs me. “Pops did a lot of research and found a psychologist that specialized in kids with ADD and taught them coping mechanisms to get by without medication. She said a lot of kids do need the medicine to get by, but some are able to use other techniques. I wasn’t a hyperactive kid, but my mind always seemed to be in overdrive.”
“And she helped you?”
Juliette smiles affectionately. “Dr. Hough was fantastic. She wasn’t covered by our insurance, but she worked at the university where Pops taught, so she treated me as a personal favor to him. She also used me as a case study, so I’m written up in a journal somewhere.”
“Ooh, that sounds fancy,” I say, pulling off her tortoise Wayfarer Ray-Bans and placing them in the bag beside her so I can see those pretty eyes of hers.
“I read it once when I was a teenager. It was pretty dry reading, but it was fascinating at the same time. It was kinda cool to see the story of J, which was how I was identified in the article.”
“What kinds of things did she teach you?”
