Page 67 of Sand in My Boots

Well, technically I could, but I don’t want to. Sitting on a bar stool next to him makes me want him more. Like a forbidden fruit I can’t eat.

“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

“I leave the resort at nine to make it to the airport by ten-ish. Not sure of the exact departure time, but I arranged it to make sure I had plenty of time.” I take a sip of the Bushwacker Natasha put in front of me. “I’m going to miss these. Wonder if I can find a local bar back home to make it.”

“Probably not the way we make ‘em here. But you could try.” Reading the tension, Natasha moves on from us when we don’t react to her joke.

“I should take off tonight, so I’m not in your way tomorrow morning.”

“What, why?” My tone sounds desperate, my heart rate kicking up in my chest. I want him to be in my way. I’m not prepared to say goodbye tonight. That wasn’t my plan. Guess it’s another thing we never discussed.

He shrugs but offers no more explanation.

Tears threaten behind my eyes, but I blink rapidly so they don’t fall. “Stay. Please. I need . . . one more night next to you.”

His fingers drag through his already tousled hair. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Cue the deflation of my heart. “Oh. Okay.”

We both stare ahead, neither of us speaking. What’s left to say?

So much, and nothing at the same time.

I’ve lost my appetite for the rest of the drink. I catch Natasha’s attention, asking for the check.

When she drops it in front of me, Cameron snatches it up. “It’s on me. Owner status and all.”

I don’t have the will to argue.

Despite the humidity still lingering in the air, my insides are chilled. I wrap my arms around my abdomen to ward it off. It does little.

“Will you have to work tomorrow once you’re home?”

“No, tomorrow’s another day off before new projects start later this week. I’m working with a new author. She seems . . . eccentric. We’ve only exchanged a few emails, but she’s already sent me three different ideas for the same book cover, all of which differ vastly from each other. It’s going to be a challenge to rein her in and decide on something. I’m already preparing for multiple changes.”

Cameron nods along, appearing to be listening attentively. “Do you charge for every change?”

“Not little ones, like different fonts or colors or swapping out an image, as long as the new image can kind of slide into place as is. If there are major changes, for sure I do. Only one author has ever complained about the extra fees. It’s no surprise she hasn’t worked with me since. Though I have noticed she’s updated her covers at least twice in the past year.”

“You love what you do.”

Without thinking, I smile. “I do. I love the freedom it affords me, the ability to work from home or anywhere I want. Had I needed to work this week, I could have. From the pool deck or the balcony. There’s a lot to love about that.”

“And it pays the bills.”

“Exactly. I had a good foundation to start from, but business steadily increases each year. If I lose some clients, there are others waiting in the wings to take their place.”

Cameron heads for the stairs instead of the elevator, pausing outside my door.

Digging through my bag for the key, I hand it to him. Once inside the room, I place my hand on his arm. When I have his attention, I mutter, “Please stay. But don’t make me beg.”

One eyebrow peaks, one side of his lips quirking into a smirk. “Begging looks pretty good on you, Jude. At least when you need release.”

“This isn’t that,” I assure. I am all sexed out. I want one more night to lie next to him, to wake up beside him before I go back to my empty condo and have to sleep alone.

“It’s going to make it that much harder in the morning.”

He’s not wrong. I’ll deal with it then.