Page 33 of Suddenly Yours

Meanwhile, Gerald was parading around all the social events with a new twenty-year-old dancer on his arm every week. Like he could replace youth the same way he replaced wives. Like his ego needed constant feeding. The man hadn’t worked a full day in the past ten years. Hell, I doubted he even know how to run Sharper Image at this point.

Poor Max and Missy were stuck in the crossfire.

I fitted one of the new breakers, the metal clicking softly as it locked into place.

Missy didn’t talk about the divorce much, not unless I asked. Even then, she kept it surface level. But I knew it hurt her. Knew it made her question loyalty, love, whether people really stayed when things got hard.

That part bothered me more than her father’s affairs ever had.

Because I’d spent most of my life wanting to be the one who stayed.

My hands stilled on the wiring as that truth hit deep in my chest. Being around her today, on the ferry, walking the island grounds, sitting across from her at dinner as she talked with that glow in her eyes, it just made it worse.

Wanting her wasn’t new.

Admitting it to myself was.

So I forced myself to keep working, letting the whir of the tools and the scent of dust drown out the thoughts that had been growing louder all night: That I had always wanted her. That she deserved more than what her family gave her. And that I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend I didn’t feel the way I felt every time she smiled at me from across a table.

By the time I’d wrapped up the last connection, labeled the new panel, and put away my tools, it was well past midnight. The resort was silent, peaceful, with soft lights humming low in the hallways and the sound of the distant surf brushing against the island cliffs. My body was tired, but my mind… that was another story.

Missy had been floating in and out of my thoughts all night like a song I couldn’t shut off.

I made my way upstairs, trying to keep my boots from making a sound on the carpet as I approached our suite. I eased the door open quietly, not wanting to wake her if she’d already gone to bed.

But she wasn’t in her room.

She was curled up on one of the oversized sofa chairs in the shared sitting room. There was a soft white resort robe wrapped around her like a puffy cloud. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table with a glass next to it. Obviously, she’d come back to the room and enjoyed some quiet time, as a book lay open and forgotten in her lap. Her long honey-colored hair spilled down her shoulder in loose waves, the tie of the robe slipping just enough to show one smooth knee tucked under her.

She looked peaceful.

Unplugged from the world for once.

I closed the door gently behind me and slipped off my work boots before walking over to her. I took the book from her lap and set it on the table.

The sound must have stirred her, because she shifted, blinking up at me through sleepy lashes. Her eyes were soft, unfocused, warm in that way they only ever were when she was half-dreaming.

“Cade?” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

But before I could say anything else, before I could reach for a blanket or gently coax her upright, she reached for me. Her fingers curled in my shirt and she pulled me down.

And kissed me.

It wasn’t like the one we shared in the bakery or at her door. This time the kiss was soft. Warm. Unthinking. Dreamy.

A half-asleep Missy kiss.

Her lips brushed mine, gentle but sure, and everything in me unclenched. Every tight muscle from hours bent over wiring, every thought I’d been fighting, melted. I let myself sink into her warmth and softness, just for a second. Just long enough to memorize the taste of her, the sound of her soft sighs.

She smelled like vanilla lotion and lavender shampoo.

Home.

But she swayed a little, her forehead slipping against my cheek as her body sagged.

She was barely awake.