Page 18 of Room 810

“Hey, there you are!” Miguel called, waving. “I was just going to come find you.” His eyes flicked over to Gabe at my side, and his eyebrows jumped. Then a sly smile pulled at his lips. I could see exactly what conclusion he’d come to, and he wasn’t wrong. He’d never known me to invite someone into my bed, so I could imagine he was hearing wedding bells.

I speared him with a look and shook my head once, firmly. There would be no teasing gossip about this, because there was nothing to talk about. Miguel huffed but said nothing as we joined him.

“Was anyone hurt last night?” I asked right away, my insides squirming as I prepared for the worst.

My right-hand man shook his head and waved me off. “Nah. You were right, the storm turned out to be nothing.”

“I wasn’t right,” I snapped, feeling my nerves sizzle. “We were just lucky.”

Miguel looked at me strangely, and I could sense Gabriel doing the same. To them, I was this happy-go-lucky beach bum, not a care in the world, but I’d been fooling everyone trying to hold up the charade. I couldn’t fool myself, though. As nice as it was to go with the flow, the current was too strong this time, and it was pulling me under.

“Enlisted some help, I see,” Miguel said, trying to change the topic. He grabbed a couple pairs of gloves for us off the check-in counter. “The dining room shutters didn’t hold, so most of the crew is busy getting that cleaned up. Why don’t you two start at the other end of the resort clearing walkways. By the time you get back, we should have some coffee and breakfast ready.”

“Perfect,” Gabriel said quickly, taking the offered gloves, then grabbing a couple wide brooms from where they were leaning against the wall. Meanwhile, I was glaring at Miguel, who had conveniently left the two of us working alone. Looked like I wasn’t getting that distance from Gabriel after all.

“Come on.” Gabriel pushed one of the broom handles into my hand, then snagged me by the elbow and led me away, dragging my feet.

I felt all kinds of muddled. My worlds were colliding inside me. I could almost see them overlapping, layer over layer. Jaded CEO and laidback islander crashing together, and they couldn’t seem to fit. Which one was I? There was no way I could be both. Things had been so much easier last night, when I lost myself in Gabriel’s arms. It didn’t matter how I saw myself, only how he saw me, and he hadn’t been complaining. Then again, why would he complain when he was getting his dick wet. He was still going to leave, no matter who I was.

He seemed to sense I needed a moment, because he didn’t talk as we made our way through the sand, but I could feel his eyes on me. I kept my head down, kicking my barely worn runners at the dunes as I passed.

I nearly jumped when Gabriel yelped, and my eyes darted up. “Look!” he cried in excitement. “My flashlight!” He grinned, pulling it out of the sand and waving it at me. He clicked the button a few times, but no light came on. He shook it, and it rattled like it was filled with half the beach. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Whatever. It’s just a fucking flashlight,” I muttered and shuffled past him.

But on the way by, he grabbed my arm and stopped me. He was so warm, such a steady presence at my side, and I couldn’t help but lean into him. “What’s going on with you?” he whispered. “You seemed fine last night, but this morning…”

“Right. Fine,” I scoffed. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. The air was fresh and clear, and I felt the tension leaching away. Gabriel rubbed his thumb over where he held me, and I focused on that small movement. I hadn’t been there when my dad died, but I didn’t hide from this storm. I was here, and I would continue to be here for whoever needed me. That was who I was, and it wasn’t about to change.

I blinked my eyes open and finally looked at Gabriel for the first time since waking up with him in my bed. “I’m sorry. If I’d told you about the hurricane, you could have avoided all this. It was selfish of me to keep you here. You could’ve been halfway across the world by now, sipping cappuccino on some European balcony.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I hate cappuccino,” he said with a chuckle, and I found myself laughing along. Who would’ve thought the uptight Gabriel Barclay would be the one to help me relax?

“Come on,” he said, sliding his hand down my arm to entwine our fingers. “Let’s sweep some boardwalks. It’ll make you feel better.” And he said it with such certainly that I couldn’t help but believe him.

That was until we rounded the bend and I caught sight of Gabriel’s cabin. The roof had been blown loose, one wall caved in directly on top of the bed. My breath caught as my throat seized up. I felt like the ground was rocking.

“Whoa, good thing I was at your place last night,” he said, his palm slick against mine.

I pulled my hand loose and stomped off ahead, shoring up my walls. “Yeah. You were real lucky.” He could’ve been killed, and it would’ve been my fault.

It was time for Gabriel to leave. As much as I would miss him, I couldn’t be selfish. He would obviously be safer without me.

11

Gabriel

Tobywasavoidingme.

He’d barely said a word while we swept the boardwalks clear, managing to keep a good distance between us. We grabbed stray fronds and branches and put them in piles for a cleanup crew to come by with a cart to haul it away, and still, he refused to engage with me. Every time I tried to start a conversation, he would give me a one-word answer, or even just a grunt. “Yes. No. Huh.”

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what that meant. So I stopped trying. No matter how my fingers itched to reach for him, to soothe whatever stress was eating at him, it wasn’t my place. He clearly didn’t want me.

By the time we’d made it back to the main building, the air was filled with the scent of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. I followed my nose to the restaurant, now mostly back in order, and I dropped into a chair with a sigh, my body aching. Breakfast was nothing so fancy as what I’d grown accustomed to here, but I would never complain. Especially when Birdie came over, smiling, and handed me a plate of lightly buttered rye toast and a mug of coffee, black. She’d remembered my order.

“You are an angel,” I told her in a rare display of affection, and her beaming grin made me glad I’d let it slip.

“It’s the least we can do after you stayed and helped with the cleanup,” she said. I could’ve told her it wasn’t my choice to stay behind, but I didn’t. “If I’m an angel, then you’re a saint.”

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