Page 48 of Bad For A Weekend

I nearly come in my pants when instead of being horrified, her pupils dilate, and she rolls the straw across her bottom lip. “What if I like punishments?”

This is getting out of control. I’m doing everything I said I wouldn’t do, and it feels too fucking good to stop. But I have to.

I think about Hudson, who’d definitely fire me or her dad, who’d probably kill me. Then I think about the look on my mom’s face if she found out I got involved with my eighteen-year-old charge. I couldn’t live through that shame, and it’s enough to have me placing my glasses back on my nose and fixing my gaze on the sea.

“Go play with your friends, Baylor. You couldn’t handle my punishments.”

She scoffs, her pride wounded. “We will be going to that club. Like it or not.”

“We’ll see.”

Without another word, Baylor gets up and goes back to her friends. At my periphery, I see her set down her drink and pick up a bottle of water. As much as I don’t want her getting drunk, the thought that she grabbed the water for me makes her that much more desirable.

I think the only thing I can do now is to talk to Hudson when we get back and tell him I’m not cut out for personal protection. I can’t handle the alternative.

After an amazing dinner that had me questioning if Brandy really is the love of my life, everyone goes to bed, exhausted from a day of traveling. I’m about to do the same, but I need to do a final check of the property before I can call it a night.

The sound of roaring waves keeps me company as I walk the perimeter. This place is fucking amazing, and I can’t believe I’m getting to experience it. Never have I seen such opulence in real life. It’s crazy to think people own places like this and only visit a couple times a year.

The house is surrounded by jungle, making it feel very private, but it’s on what they call hotel row, meaning this entire stretch of beach is vacation realty and very touristy. However, this particular stretch that the property sits on is dead center in the middle of other single-family vacation homes and is off-limits to vacationers.

Once I’ve checked the outside, I lock the front door and set the perimeter alarm. The inside is just as incredible as the outside. I meander through the spacious and comfortable living room that opens to a chef’s kitchen and dining room. Off the kitchen are three bedrooms and two bathrooms. That’s where Brandy, Ziggy, and Sara are staying.

Noting their doors are closed and lights are off, I turn to the right where the primary and my room are. Baylor’s room is silent, but I can see her light on through the crack at the bottom of the door. Corey told me she hasn’t been able to sleep in the dark since prom. Not that I needed to know that information, but I don’t think he has anyone to talk to about what’s going on.

For as popular and well-known as he is, he doesn’t seem to have any friends. Or at least, none that I’ve seen. He and I have gotten pretty close through our discussions during our early morning workouts.

I debate knocking on Baylor’s door and asking if she’s okay or if she needs anything, but that’s the devil on my shoulder talking. If she needs something, she’ll come to me. So instead, I go inside my room and shut the door.

After showering in my private bathroom, I’m brushing my teeth when I hear a loud bang. Quickly spitting into the sink, I grab a towel on my way out and wipe my face.

Stepping into the hall, I run into Baylor. Her eyes are wide, and she’s trembling.

“What was that?” I ask.

“You heard it too?”

“Yeah. Let me check the cameras.” I grab my phone from my pocket and realize I’m only in a towel. “Shit. Come here.”

I lead her into my room, not wanting her out of my sight until I know what’s going on, and grab my phone on my bed. Grabbing shorts and a tee from my suitcase, I go into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so I can hear if something happens. As I dress, I pull up the camera feeds and carefully look through the last five minutes of each, not seeing anything.

“I don’t know what it was. Maybe the neighbors or something happened down on the beach,” I say, reentering the bedroom.

“I’m scared.” She sits on the corner of my bed, her hands clenched between her knees. Now that my fear has ebbed, I notice she’s wearing a thin emerald green tank top and sleep shorts. Fuck, she’s sexy.

“Stay here. I’ll go check outside.”

She stands. “No way. I’m going with you.”

“You’re safe in here.”

“Have I ever been safe when you’re not right next to me?”

Shit. I can’t argue with that. “Fine, but stay right by my side.”

I turn the house alarm off on my phone and take her by the hand. It’s so small and delicate, reminding me of how fragile she is. My protective instincts kick into high gear.

We walk out the back door, and the only thing I hear are the waves. Growing up in California, I naturally love the ocean, but its usual calming effect isn’t there. Not when I’m worried about something happening to Baylor.

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