Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Blakely

I gasp.

“If you would’ve waited, I would’ve carried you over the threshold,” Renn says, shutting the door behind us.

“This is unbelievable.” I cover my mouth with my hand and slip through the bright living area. “Renn— oh my God .”

The late morning Australian sunlight floods the home. From the outside, the structure is beautiful but fairly unassuming. It’s tucked into the back of a neighborhood, nestled behind a group of trees. White siding peeks out from the foliage. A wooden porch that looks handmade and intentionally crafted to look rustic wraps around the side of the home, disappearing into the trees.

I had no idea, none at all, that the inside would be this stunning … and the beach would only be steps away.

The interior is bright. White walls, transoms over every window. Natural materials everywhere you turn, from the timber pillars to the hemp curtains and rattan lighting fixtures. Gold accents bring a luxurious element to the place.

A wall of glass separates the living quarters from the outside, providing a jaw-dropping view of the bay. The water is crystal clear, the vegetation is bright green, and the beach is so perfect, so immaculate, that it doesn’t even look real.

“ Look at this .” I tug on a brass handle. The entire glass wall moves—sliding to the side, seamlessly connecting the inside with a huge deck overlooking the sea. “I can’t form words. Holy crap.”

“This is my buddy, Quade Kellaway’s place. We played together for a few years and used to sneak up here on our days off.” He leans against the doorframe as I venture onto the deck. “It’s quiet, and the folks around here really don’t pay much attention to anyone but themselves.”

“They’re probably too busy looking at this view.”

I sit on the arm of a wicker loveseat and take in the surf crashing against the sand. Despite my exhaustion from Las Vegas, plus the eighteen-hour flight, I’m invigorated by the salty air.

“I can see why,” he says, his voice entirely too sexy for eleven in the morning.

Looking over my shoulder, I take in his long, lean body standing upright. He moves effortlessly across the deck. Confident. Casual. Cool. Not at all like a man who’s dealing with a scenario that includes massive contracts, fuming parents, and publicists that have threatened to quit. I know because I eavesdropped.

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, pretending to be surprised.

“Hell yeah, I am. I won’t be one of those men who take my wife for granted.” He stops inches before me, hovering over me as I sit. “I’m going to make sure you know how hot I think you are daily.”

“Well, I suppose there are worse ways to spend the next three months.”

He grins. “Just wait until you realize how I plan on spending the next three months with you.”

My stomach flutters as our old dynamic returns. The teasing. The flirting. The teetering on the edge of trouble. Only now, it’s not trouble. We’re married.

“What did you say to me on the plane?” I ask. “That something was very presumptuous of me? It’s presumptuous to insinuate that I’ll sleep with you, too.”

He lifts the hem of his shirt up and over his stacked abs.

I’ve seen Renn shirtless several times and been speechless each time. But to have him this close, alone , with nothing—no fabric, no person, no reason —to stop me from touching him, I’m more than speechless. I can barely breathe.

His body is a work of art. Crafted. Sculpted . Each muscle has been built with an artist’s care; no fiber has gone unnoticed. His shoulders are wide, and his lats are thick. His waist is trim, highlighted by a deep-set Adonis belt running diagonally from his hips to his pelvis.

He smiles with his shirt wadded in one hand. His heavily veined forearm flexes, and debauchery swims in his eyes. “ Okay .”

This man is so frustrating .

“But do me one favor, though,” he says, smirking.

“What’s that?”

He leans down like he’s going to kiss me. I hold my breath, my heart pounding so hard I think it’s audible.

“It’s not polite to stare,” he whispers before standing again.

I exhale, making him laugh.

“Asshole.” I get to my feet and move away from him. “What time is it in the US?”

He glances at his watch. “It’s about eight o’clock at night in Nashville.”

“And what time is it here?”

“Eleven in the morning. I …”

Our attention is redirected to movement inside the house. Foxx . Renn’s security detail.

Why do gorgeous men only show up when I’m unavailable?

I was introduced to Foxx Carmichael in Vegas, shortly before we left for the airport. He’s tall, with dark blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a jawline cut from granite. He’s not rude, nor is he kind. I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or quietly entertained. I think Foxx has been with us since we left Vegas, but this is only the second time I’ve seen him.

He’s a mystery.

“The driver left your luggage in the foyer, and the llama is on top of your suitcases,” Foxx says. “I’ve secured the premises. Mr. Landry advised me that you prefer me to stay off-site. Is that correct?”

“Well, I mean, this is my honeymoon, Foxx,” Renn says jokingly.

Foxx’s lips twitch.

“I know this area well,” Renn says. “We’ll be good on our own for the most part. But if Blakely wants to do something alone, I want you to go with her.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, my head whipping to my husband. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

He taps my nose. “Well, you’re getting one, anyway.”

I huff. “We’re going to talk about this.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, grinning before turning back to Foxx. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

Foxx nods.

“Thank you, buddy,” Renn says, moving across the patio. “I appreciate you coming at the last minute.”

Foxx shakes Renn’s hand. “It’s my pleasure. I was afraid I would get sent with Brynne Abbott to Cabo.”

“You don’t like Mexico?” I ask.

“Mexico is fine. I take instructions from her husband. She, on the other hand, does not.”

I laugh.

Foxx nods again and slips out the front door.

“He’s an interesting individual,” I say, following Renn inside the house.

“He has an interesting background.”

“Oh, do tell .”

“Can’t, cutie. That’s not my story to share.”

“ Come on ,” I say, hopping on the gray and white stone counter. My feet swing back and forth. “I wanna know.”

He plants a hand on either side of me. “ No .”

I grin. “It sounds way more interesting than Tate.”

Renn growls, making me laugh.

The sound of my laughter catches me off guard. It’s breezy and easy. I sound … happy.

I don’t really know what to make of that.

“You going to speak to Brock?” he asks.

My shoulders slump, and my forehead falls to his shoulder.

Renn chuckles. “I’m taking that as a not yet.”

My brother has been on my mind since we left him in Las Vegas. I hate that we left things so strained between us—between him and me, and him and Renn, too. But despite that, I’m also irritated that he didn’t offer more support during the meltdown. And that he hasn’t called to offer it by now.

“He hasn’t called or texted me, and I haven’t contacted him either.” I raise my head off Renn. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, how do I tell him about our agreement?”

“That you’re having my baby?”

I laugh, ignoring the way my belly tightens. “ No . That I’m … Mrs. Brewer for the next ninety days.”

“Damn, I love the sound of that coming from your mouth.”

I gently push him away and jump off the counter.

My body tingles from his proximity and the gravel buried in his voice. Even though a nice breeze floats through the house from the ocean, I’m suddenly hot.

Renn’s eyes find mine . And bothered .

The muffled sound of a ringing phone in my pocket breaks the silence. I blow out a breath, thankful for the reprieve.

“That’s my ringtone for Ella,” I say.

He wipes his face with his shirt. “I need to make a few calls. We need food and toiletries because I’m sure Kellaway doesn’t have shit here. He never does.”

“What can I do to help?”

“What can you do?” He smiles. “ Relax . That’s what you can do. Let me have Astrid figure out the logistics. She’ll be happy I need her for something.”

A bolt of jealousy fires through me. “Who is Astrid?”

“My assistant— our assistant now.”

“I don’t need an assistant.”

“Well, I don’t either, but I have one. I’ll give you her number. Anything you need, you can ask her. She’s a magician. Sometimes I think of random shit to see if she can do it. And she always does.”

I giggle. “That poor woman.”

“Ah, she loves it.” He heads for the foyer. “I’ll take our stuff to our bedroom.”

My heart skips a beat. “ Our bedroom ?”

“Didn’t I mention that?” He spins around, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “There’s only one bedroom here.”

“How convenient.” And probably utter bullshit, given the size of this place . But I’m not exactly mad about it. I’ll get to sleep next to this Adonis. I’m sure I’ll survive.

He shrugs like the innocent man he is not. “I’ll make some calls and then hop in the shower. Feel free to join me.”

With a wink, he walks away.

“Damn you,” I mutter, taking out my phone.

I dial Ella while I head back to the patio. She answers on the first ring.

“Hey, how are you?” she asks, concern thick in her tone.

I lift my face to the sky. “I’m good. In Australia, of all places. Right on the beach.”

“Lucky you.”

“Something like that,” I say, stretching out on the loveseat and shoving a pillow under my head. “What’s happening back there?”

“Oh, the usual. I’m doing laundry from our trip and ignoring your brother’s phone calls.”

I laugh. “So you two didn’t make up?”

“No, we didn’t. I have no interest in making up with him unless he gets his head out of his ass.”

“What did he do?”

She sighs. “I just don’t think we’re going to work out, Blakely. We moved from fling to feelings, but we’re not inching any closer to forever.”

I frown.

This revelation does not shock me; I often wonder if they’ve met their end. But I also know they both really do care about one another, and I hate it that they can’t work out their problems.

My eyes fall closed, and I yawn. “Well, I’ll always be his sister, but I’ll always be your friend, too.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m not involving you in any of it.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know that too.” She laughs. “So what are you and Renn doing at the beach all by yourselves for a few days?”

“Well, we’re on our honeymoon.”

“Is that the official story?”

I take a deep breath and prepare to tell the first person I’m married—even though she knows the truth. It’s good practice saying it.

“I’m changing my name to Blakely Brewer as soon as we’re home.”

She gasps. “What?”

That was fun .

“What do you mean you’re changing your name?” she asks.

“We’re going to stay married for three months.”

She pauses. “You’re good with that?”

“Yeah. I mean, he offered to give me a baby in exchange for—”

“ What ?”

My whole body shakes as I laugh.

“He offered to, what? Impregnate you? Blakely .” She stutters. “ That’s hot .”

My laughter gets louder.

“Did you say yes?” she asks. “Wow. I think I have a breeding kink.”

I put a hand on my stomach to try to steady myself. “Well, good for you. But I don’t.”

“Well, if your marriage doesn’t work out, and he wants to—”

“That’s my husband you’re talking about.”

She laughs, unable to keep her amusement to herself. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But, seriously—he suggested that?”

“He did. I didn’t take him up on it, exactly.” Although … “But I did agree to do the whole wife thing until this blows over and he makes nice with the Royals.”

“Three months?”

“Yup. Ninety days.”

“Wow. Okay. I wasn’t expecting this turn of events, but I can’t say I don’t like it.”

Yeah, well, me either. “I expected to be a little more … I don’t know … nervous about it. Weirded out, maybe. Unsure. But so far … so good.”

She sighs. The sound of the chair in her living room squeaks. “I expected to be a little more unsure about this too. But it makes sense in an odd sort of way.”

“Right? I mean, this isn’t what I had planned, but what’s three months? It could be fun.”

“Oh, Blakely. It could be a lot of fun.”

I yawn again. “Right now, I don’t have enough energy to be fun. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve lay down on the patio, and I’m not sure I can get back up.”

“Okay. Go. Get some sleep so you can have all the fun and report back to me.”

I chuckle. “Sure.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

I nod. I want to tell her about the house and Foxx, and I want to tell her to let Brock know I’m okay. But she says goodbye, and the line goes dead before I can.

And then sweet, sweet sleep covers me in its warm embrace.