Page 81 of Without a Hitch
“I want you to give me all of you. My workload is lightening now that things are settling for Colton. I want you to give me your time. Unless it has to do with the winery deal, I want you free to have fun. With me.”
“Are you asking me to take a vacation?” His smile is one I haven’t seen before. It’s light and unguarded. It makes my heart squeeze with the knowledge that something or someone made him so intense. So focused. So determined not to love.
“Er, I guess I am? I mean, I guess I am. Yes. I’d like you to go into vacation mode.”
“Vacation mode,” he repeats as if testing out the words. “Till, I haven’t taken a vacation since college. I’m not sure I know what vacation mode is.” He smirks, but it hides something darker.
“Not even with your family?”
He shakes his head.
“A day off?”
His brow raises. “When Nova was sick once and my parents were in the UK. I sat with her until her stomach stopped trying to escape her throat.”
I blink at him. Slowly. “You have every resource known to man at your fingertips, and you don’t ever take advantage of them?”
“Do you take vacations often?”
“I would if I could afford it, but yes, I do make time for vacations. It’s important to reset and regroup sometimes.”
He takes my hand and leads me out to the patio that overlooks the water. The view leaves me speechless. We’re steps away from the ocean. It’s breathtaking.
And then I see the hammock. A freaking private hammock.
I totally squeal like a little girl meeting Cinderella for the first time.
“Ah, what was that?”
I turn to Lochlan. “There’s a hammock.”
“I see that.” His unassuming grin is indulgent. “And hammocks are good?”
“I have wanted a hammock since I was a kid. We didn’t have anywhere to put one growing up. Not that we could have afforded one anyway, and now I live in a condo. Not much use for one in the city.”
“Well…” He sweeps his arms toward the dark blue fabric swaying in the breeze. “Don’t let me keep you. Have at it.”
I nearly sprint but catch myself. “We’re not done talking. You go change, and then I want you to lie with me.”
He stares at me like I just recited the periodic table backward. Glancing down at his suit, he adjusts the bottom of his vest, then returns his gaze to me and shrugs. No man should look that good in a suit.
“What would you like me to change into? A bathing suit?”
“I mean, you can. We are definitely swimming in that later,” I say, pointing to the private pool between us and the ocean. “But I want to talk first, so swim trunks or lounge pants.”
“Lounge pants?”
“Sweats? Shorts? Comfy cozies? What do you normally wear on weekends?”
He tugs at the top button of his dress shirt. “This. I normally wear this.”
“I mean, what do you wear when you’re just hanging out at home?”
He stares blankly. “Sometimes I remove the vest.”
I have the uncontrollable urge to look over my shoulder to search for a hidden camera because surely he’s messing with me. But there’s something vulnerable shimmering in his gaze that keeps my attention glued to him.
“What do you sleep in?” I ask.
