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“You’re in charge.”

“Thank you for that,” she deadpans.

“Only here, though. In the bedroom, I’m in charge, and you’re my delicious little play toy.”

She snorts. “Hardly.”

“I will be if you keep looking at me like that. I didn’t tell you about our suite, did I?”

She throws a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her studious gaze to the water. “No. You didn’t.”

I run my hand up her arse and give it a squeeze. “We have a huge suite. Two bedrooms. A lovely room for Fen with a crib and a bedroom for us. All booked by my assistant under the name of Winston Churchill.”

She snorts a half-laugh. “Subtle. I’m positive no one will know that’s a fake name. And what makes you think I don’t want my own room?”

“Because you love sleeping with me, so let’s end that there.”

She doesn’t respond or even move an inch. She hasn’t mentioned Alden to me in a while. Certainly not since we started sleeping together. But I have to wonder if she’s still missing him or remembering the words of affection he showered her with only to not be able to love her back when it mattered.

Am I any better than he was? The thought chafes my skin and has my insides twisting.

As if reading my thoughts, she says, “I don’t want to get hurt again, and you don’t do this kind of stuff with women.”

I come in behind her and kiss the crook of her neck. “I’ve given you every reason to question me. And yes, this is uncharted waters for me because you’re right. Historically, I haven’t done this kind of stuff with women. But I planned a night together for us.”

“Loomis—”

“Don’t say no. Don’t question it. Just stay with me. Can you do that? Please?”

“What does that mean?”

She asked me that this morning, and I didn’t answer then. I shouldn’t now either. I really shouldn’t. But the words seem to have a life and mind of their own as they spill from my lips. “It means this is more than just some fun for me.”

I don’t give her the chance to ask more questions or rebuke me. I’m not sure I can offer more than that. Not right now. I take Fen to the bench seat in the back of the boat, but before I get there, I swear I hear her murmur, “For now, but how long will that last?” before it’s lost to the wind and the sound of the boat’s engine.

We dock at a public marina,and the workers there tie off the boat while Keegan pays the fee. It’s all very easy, and so far, no one is looking at me. The streets are packed with people, and I feel naked and exposed without a disguise. Still, I can’t deny how good it feels to be off the island.

We follow the crowd and head toward Duval Street, which is the main drag that divides the lower half of the key. Fen’s loving the action as we wheel him in his pushchair, and he waves andsays hi to passing strangers. And with the cute baby and the pretty redhead, I’m easily forgotten, especially as I keep the brim of my ball cap low and my head tilted down.

Regardless, I’m still paranoid, and I turn us up a side street that seems less traveled.

“Here. This looks good.” Keegan stops at an outdoor café, glancing over the menu that’s posted just by the entrance. “What do you think, Fen? Are you hungry?” She snorts. “Silly question. You’re always hungry.”

I watch Keegan lean over Fen’s carrier, her red hair spilling forward like flowing blood as it catches the sunlight. My son reaches up, his tiny fingers stretching toward one dangling curl. She doesn’t flinch when he grabs it but instead laughs, the sound like ice in good whiskey, smooth and satisfying. Ten days we’ve been hiding away from the press, and I still haven’t grown tired of that laugh.

“He’s got quite the grip,” she muses, gently untangling Fen’s fingers from her hair. She doesn’t pull away, though. She never pulls away from him, and my heart is doing something funny. Beating erratically and making me sweat. Almost like I’m dehydrated or just worked out. It must be the sun and the heat.

“He knows a good thing when he’s got his hands on it,” I say, adjusting my sunglasses. I’m still out of sorts from the morning between half-baked conversations that are all my doing and everything else I’m battling. I’m the one testing the heat of the flame, but it’s burning both of us.

The café patio hums with conversation, thankfully loud enough that Fen’s occasional loud babbles, giggles, and other noises don’t disturb anyone. Maybe that’s why Keegan chose this place. It’s tucked away, hidden behind a wall of flowering vines that make us nearly invisible from the road.

We take a quiet moment to peruse the menu when the waitress arrives, a college-aged girl with hair dyed the blue ofswimming pools. I work to keep my head down, but her eyes widen slightly when she sees me, though thankfully, she says nothing. I’m hoping celebrity sightings are common enough that the locals take pride in their practiced nonchalance.

“Hi. Good afternoon. Can I get you some drinks, or do you know what you’d like to eat?”

“I think we’re ready,” Keegan says, glancing at me and I nod. “I’ll have the lobster roll with fries and a Diet Coke, please.”

“Perfect. And you, sir?”