Page 36 of Only for the Season

She scowls. “You are so materialistic.”

I’m materialistic because I don’t want her wearing my clothes or eating my food? My nostrils flare and I open my mouth to shout at her. But this isn’t me. I don’t shout at people. I angry-bake when I’m upset.

“Whatever,” I mutter and leave her to finish her cookie.

The door to my bedroom is hanging open. I count to ten before I lay into Annie for rummaging in my room again. Obviously, she was in my room. She stole my pajamas from here.

I shut the door behind me and flop down on the bed. I sigh at how comfortable it is. I stole the bed and mattress from my parents’ house. It’s the only thing I own worth its weight in gold. It’s a good thing it’s heavy or Annie would have stolen it from me already. As it is, I suspect she sleeps in here when I’m gone.

I stare at the ceiling. It’s cracked and peeling. As are the walls. I’ve tried painting the room but I’ve given up. The cracks just reappear weeks later anyway.

What I wouldn’t do to sleep in the loft above the bakery. It would be the perfect little setup. Live upstairs in my cute loft and work downstairs in my beloved bakery.

I sigh. Another dream that hasn’t come anywhere near to true.

Life really is what happens when you’re dreaming about your future.

Chapter 13

“I left the island, but I can’t leave her behind.” ~ Jeremy

Jeremy

Isettle into my seat on my private jet and an attendant immediately bustles to me.

“Good morning. My name is Cora and I’ll be your attendant for this flight. What can I get you to drink, Mr. Holland?”

I hate being referred to as Mr. Holland. Mr. Holland is my dad and I don’t want to be associated with him. But I’ve learned not to allow familiarity – such as letting people refer to me with my first name – as it signals to them that we’re somehow friends. I don’t lend my ‘friends’ money. And I’m tired of being asked.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“Right away. And for you, Mr. Raider?”

“Coffee. Strong as you can make it.”

She hurries away and I scoff at Eli. “Coffee? I stock my jet withBuccaneer’s Whiskeyand you choose coffee?”

He grunts. “First of all, you stock your jet with my whiskey becauseBuccaneer’sis the best damn whiskey money can buy.”

He’s not wrong. His brother, Jaxon, is the master distiller and he’s a genius.

“And…” He breaks off to yawn. “Having a baby is exhausting.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He grins. “Stephanie’s worth the loss of sleep.”

My stomach burns. Why is my stomach burning? I can’t possibly be jealous. I don’t want children. I’d have to find a woman first, and I know from experience women can’t see past the money to the real me.

What about Parker?

Our kiss was the hottest thing I’ve experienced in years. Maybe ever. Her soft lips and taste of coffee and sugar with a hint of sea mesmerized me.

I was ready to strip her bare and taste and touch every single inch of her. Considering her reaction to the kiss, I bet she goes wild in the bedroom. Or on the floor of her kitchen.

But then she ran away. The second I turned my back, she was gone. She didn’t say goodbye. She disappeared.

And I couldn’t chase her since I have no idea where she lives. I could probably ask Eli but considering Paisley has been trying not-so-subtly to matchmake me with Parker since I arrived on the island, I didn’t want to chance it.