Page 17 of Savored Sins
Which is exactly what I do.
nine
AUTUMN
Trey: So, just curious... did you get the most important measurement?
Autumn: OMG. Are you seriously asking what I think you’re asking?
Trey:
Autumn: What happened to “hands to yourself, boo”???
Trey: I’m kidding! Jesus.
“Itold you he’d be good for business. He may be a hellion, but Zeke Holloway isthedude to follow around here these days.”
I’m lounging on the dock, sipping a glass of rosé, with my phone on the table beside me and Trey on speaker. He’s just forwarded me a TikTok Zeke posted earlier today, where he’shyping up my store and fashion line, and I have to say… I’m kind of excited. It’s already got tens of thousands of views, and the number keeps climbing. So do the hearts and comments.
But Trey’s claim that Zeke will be good for business strikes me as premature. Sure, he might drum up some initial interest, but he’s also pretty fickle. He could just as easily be onto the next thing, gushing about some other chick’s sweat shop boutique next week. I just don’t know yet.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, swirling the wine in my glass. “I mean, it’s cool—for sure. I’m just…”
“Thinking about how he makes out with ghosts on camera?”
“Basically.”
Trey gives a gruff laugh. “Yeah, he’s kind of a wild card. I’m with you on that. I say keep your distance, use his clout as a springboard, and let’s see how this plays out. It’s not like you’resleepingwith the guy.”
I take a sip of my wine.
“Autumn?” Trey’s voice is nervous, maybe even a little stern. I love when he gets stern with me. It’s so endearing. “You’renotsleeping with him, right?”
“God, no.”
I’m super glad we’re not on FaceTime because my cheeks are suddenly hot. There’s a part of me that wants to tell Trey about Zeke’s little erection debacle—okay,notso little, if you get my drift—but something about his tone gives me pause.
“Good.” Trey sounds satisfied, but then adds, “Because I don’t want to have to come do damage control. That kid is the absoluteepitomeof a heartbreak waiting to happen, and I know you’re not that dumb. Also, think about where that dick’s been.”
Oh, boy. Trey doesn’t know thehalfof what I’ve been thinking about since this morning. Not only have I been thinking of all the places Zeke’s dick has been, but I’ve also been thinkingabout all the places itcouldgo. And what he might be able to do with it.
Shit. I need to get it together.
“Okay, well, I gotta go finish those alterations. I’ll text you, alright?”
Trey smacks his lips at me through the phone and ends the call. I place the phone face down on the table and sit for a minute, sipping my wine as I gaze out across the lake. It’s a sultry summer evening in New England, and the glimmer of the water as it ripples in the gentle breeze is breathtaking.
This place is my sanctuary. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as at home anywhere as I do here, surrounded by these quiet woods, enthralled by the beauty of the murky, yet magical lake. Thankgodmy attorney pushed for this house as part of the divorce settlement. It’s made staying in Hawthorne Bay, even when my family’s all in Connecticut, a no-brainer.
I’ll make things work.
I drain the rest of my wine and pour another. I’m starting to leaf through the latest issue of Citrine, my favorite Boston-based fashion magazine, when I see Zeke jogging down the driveway, apparently coming back from an evening run. I raise my wine glass to my lips and…
Well, I stare.
There’s nothing else Icando.
He’s shirtless, and every inch of his slim, sculpted body is glistening with sweat. His blond hair, although also wet with sweat, is tousled and falling into his face in a way that makes me want to run my hands through it. He’s like a fucking Greek god or something, all long, lean muscle and tanned, smooth skin. Jesus. Someone his age hasnobusiness looking this good to me.
