Page 6 of Room 810

She nodded slowly, but just as she was about to leave, a man swanned over. He was like sunshine and fireworks all in one, and every guest’s head turned to watch him, involuntary smiles on their faces. His blond hair was an inch too long, flipping up in all directions like he’d just crawled out of bed, and his skin practically glistened. He was wearing tight white shorts and a transparent flowing wraparound shirt, tied loosely at the waist so that the sides gaped open and revealed most of his smooth chest. His scent washed over me, of sunscreen and something more floral, and he pulled out the chair across from me and plopped down.

“Good morning, Birdie. Can I get the special, please? Ooh! And one of these,” he gushed, pointing at the smoothie. “And maybe some blueberry pancakes… or waffles… You know what, surprise me.”

Birdie was back to smiling, and who could blame her? The man was radiant. “Sure thing!” And she practically skipped back to the kitchen, her ponytail bopping side to side.

“Uh, excuse me—” I began, unsure why this stranger thought he could interrupt my breakfast, but before I had a chance to ask, the omega started talking, and once he started, I wasn’t sure he would ever stop.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you. As you can see, it’s a bit of a full house this morning. I promise I’m the best kind of company.” He accompanied this with a saucy wink, and I frowned. I opened my mouth to reply, but he just kept going. “My name is Toby, by the way. I own Paradise Isle, so if you have any problems or concerns, feel free to bring them straight to me, and I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Oh, good! The owner, just the person I’d been hoping to meet this morning. I took a breath and began to ask about the internet, but—

“I have quite the weekend planned for you,” he said, waving his hands about as he spoke. “I was thinking since the water’s still a bit cool this morning, we could start with some crafts, maybe a dance class, learn some local customs. You’re gonna love it! Then, for lunch, we can come back here. You should really try the ginger-spiced tilapia. It’s to die for. Then in the afternoon, the temperatures usually hit the mid 90s, but it doesn’t really feel too hot because of the breeze off the water, you know? Anyway, that would be the perfect time to do some surfing. Have you surfed before?”

He left no time for me to answer, so I just pinched my lips shut and waited for him to stop talking.

“It’s okay. I’m not very good at it myself, so maybe I’ll take those lessons with you. You don’t mind, right? Then later tonight, it’s movie night on the beach for the kids, and after they go to bed, things might get a little rowdy, if you know what I mean.”

There was another one of those damn winks, and this time, he accompanied it by reaching out and patting my hand where it sat on the table. However brief, that brush of his fingers left goosebumps that tingled all the way up my arm, then they turned south and headed lower…

I shifted in my seat, suddenly regretting the lack of underwear. I didn’t know what to make of this man. He was too energetic for this early in the morning—or ever—and too forward. Was he flirting with me? I couldn’t tell, but he wasn’tat allmy type. He was certainly flighty, maybe a bit naïve. His blue eyes, framed with long lashes, were laser focused on me, and it left me feeling… unsettled.

At this point, Toby seemed to notice I wasn’t speaking. “What’s the matter? Didn’t sleep well?”

I sighed, glad to be getting back on topic. “Not particularly, no.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and he looked genuine enough, a little crease forming between his brows. Then he frowned and asked, “It wasn’t the bed, was it?”

“No. The bed was… adequate.” In truth, it was probably one of the most comfortable mattresses I’d ever slept in, but for some reason, I had a hard time admitting that to the man in front of me. If I said something nice, he might smile at me, maybe even touch me again, and that was very much not something I wanted. At all.

I cleared my throat. “Actually, I had some work I needed to do. I was hoping you might have a wi-fi password or something…?”

“Wi-fi? Oh, no, no, no. There’s no wi-fi.” Why was he laughing? Was he joking? He had to be joking.

My whole body seized up. “No…” I nearly choked as I tried to swallow, my throat tightening. “No, you don’t understand. Ineedinternet. I have a blog to run, emails to reply to, sponsored ads to manage.”

Something flashed across his eyes, there and gone again, that looked a hell of a lot like pity. Why would he feel sorry for me? Ridiculous. I must’ve misinterpreted. He sighed and reached out to touch me again, but I jerked my hand off the table just in time. “If you really need to, you can bring your laptop down here and you can use my office. But Gabe,” he said, the nickname making my eye twitch. “The whole reason I run this resort the way I do is because I believe it’s important to reconnect with ourselves—and our loved ones—in a way that builds and strengthens the relationships that matter the most to us.”

Toby leaned in and lowered his voice, looking me right in the eye, and I felt it right down to my core. “One day, hopefully many years in the future, when you’re on your deathbed, you won’t regret not writing a certain review or whether you advertised the right products. You will regret not loving someone hard enough.”

He pushed back his chair and stood up, visibly trying to shake the somber mood. “I see a table has opened up over there, so I’ll leave you to your breakfast. Meet me in the lobby at nine?”

I nodded, mute, as his words had hit harder than I could’ve imagined. I was stuck somewhere between anger and depression. Either way, this didn’t feel like a holiday should.

“Love your shirt, by the way,” he said, with another fucking wink, before he blew me a kiss and sauntered away, a distracting sway to his hips.

4

Toby

Therewasnologicalreason I could come up with for why Gabriel Barclay had come to my island. He obviously didn’t belong here. He was uptight, a classic workaholic, and the way he kept tugging on the gifted t-shirt as if it were filled with sand, when I knew for a fact he hadn’t set foot on the beach yet—if I were a betting man, I would say he probably didn’t even own a single t-shirt.

All of this equated to one thing—fate. The stars had aligned to bring him to me, and it was apparently my job to introduce a little joy into his life, because it was clear he had none. Good thing I was up to the challenge.

I sauntered into the lobby just before nine. There was a lineup of guests waiting to board the bus that had just pulled up out front. Miguel was taking them for a tour at the pineapple plantation. He opened the door, the bus rocking side to side as he lumbered down the steps. “All aboard the Pineapple Express!” he called, his jocular manner infectious to the excited tourists.

While they boarded, Miguel gestured for me to come over. He lowered his voice and said, “Bad news, boss. Looks like that storm might hit us after all.”

I let the momentary skitter of unease roll off me. “It’s okay,” I told him firmly, patting his shoulder. “It’s not our first tropical storm. It’s just a little wind and rain.”

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