It’s something my mother used to say when we were kids and fuming about one thing or another. Not that we had anything in particular to be pissed about. No, that would come later, when my dad decided to screw us all over. When I look over at Josie, it’s the only thing that comes to mind. Her hands are balled up into fists on the arms of her chair and she’s staring out at the ocean like it did something offensive.

I watch her come out of it—or pretend to. First she relaxes her hands. Then she arranges her face into a smile. Finally, she lets out a little breath. “Talk? No.” The smile turns into a grin. “Go to the bar? Yes.”

I think of her, swaying on that barstool the very first night, and the last thing I want to do is take her to the bar. But she’s already standing up, abandoning the resort’s beach chair and throwing her towel over her shoulder. “No more work!” she cries. “Come with me.”

It’s not true. There will always be work.

I go with her anyway.

* * *

It’s late by the time we’re done wining and dining, or in Josie’s case, consuming copious cocktails and dining. She’s loose, laughing at everything I say, and ready for anything.

That’s what she keeps telling me. I’m ready for anything.

“I’m ready for anything,” she says, her arm thrown around my neck in the elevator. “Let’s go somewhere exciting.”

“It’s two in the morning,” I murmur into her hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

She walks two fingers up the buttons of my shirt. “Whose bed?”

“You don’t have a bed here.”

In the shower, she giggles and soaps both of us up, then kisses me hard while the water cascades down over our skin, washing the suds down the drain. When she pulls back, there’s a serious look in her eyes. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes.” It’s true—most of this has been a good time. It’s not the kind of good time I’d choose to have for myself, but watching Josie enjoy anything is a treat. It makes me worried about her, though. I can’t commit to this fun-loving attitude when there’s clearly something else going on. “Are you?”

“The time of my life,” she says, and it’s so unconvincing that I take her face in my hands and tilt it toward mine.

“Josie, talk to me. You were so angry on the beach. Is it because I took a few minutes to work?” I give her my most dashing grin. “You’re going to have to forgive me for that.”

She waves it away with her hand. “I was being stupid. I was having thoughts that I shouldn’t have had.” Then her eyes travel down my body to where my cock stands at attention in the air between us. Damn it, I’m trying to have a real conversation with her. Now is not the time.

It is the time for Josie, who doesn’t hesitate to reach down and take it into her hand.

“Josie—”

She’s already sinking to her knees, and when she swirls her tongue over the head, I stop asking questions.

* * *

In bed, she curls against me, her hair still damp. “You’re trying your best,” she says sleepily, but my heart is still pounding from the shower, and then the edge of the bed afterward. 

“Are you saying that was unsatisfactory?” I pull her in closer and run my hand down the fabric of her tank top.

She smiles, eyes closed. “You’re trying your best to be on vacation. It’s obviously pretty tough for you.”

“I think you have the opposite problem.”

“I’m too good at going on vacation?”

There’s a liquid silence in the air through all the pauses that are ready to freeze into ice at any moment. I have to tread carefully—I can sense it like an electrical storm that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“You seem to need it,” I say, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “I want to know why.”

Josie breathes in deeply and sighs. “Everyone needs a vacation once in a while.”

“So tell me about it.” I run a hand over her hair. “What are you running away from?”

The corners of her mouth turn down into a frown, but when she opens her eyes to meet mine, she smiles again. My heart turns over. “You’re running away from your company, right? They must ask a lot of you.”

I know a deflection when I hear one, but if this is how we’re going to get to the truth behind Josie’s smiles, so be it. “I’m not running away. I’m here against my will.”

“You like being a workaholic?”

The question surprises me. I haven’t thought about whether I like the amount of work I have to do in years. I’ve only thought about doing whatever it takes to make sure nothing ever happens to Cash Industries. “I like knowing that things are under control.”

“Mmm.” Josie closes her eyes again, relaxing against my shoulder. “Did you like it when that woman was flirting with you on the beach?”

I look down at her, but she’s keeping her expression blank. It’s a dead giveaway. “What are you talking about? All I remember is some woman looking for her boyfriend.”

Josie laughs, twisting away from me so that I have to tug her back. “She was describing you. She was totally hitting on you, and I was right there.” Her tongue darts out over her lips. “I guess that’s what had me pissed me off. It made me jealous.” She opens her eyes and then she’s in motion, rolling on top of me, her hips rocking against mine. I just had my way with her, but I want her again. “I have no right to be jealous,” Josie whispers into my ear. “We’re only having fun.”

We’re not, I want to say, because right now it doesn’t feel like we’re fucking around. It feels like something different, something wilder, something…deeper.

But Josie is doing something with her hips that makes it impossible to think or say anything at all, for a long, long time.