The Man with the Knot (Forbidden Fun #55)

Chapter 8

8

Morgan

T he moonlit terrace is the perfect place for a romantic evening cocktail. The champagne is the perfect temperature. My slinky silk sundress is the perfect outfit choice with its thin spaghetti straps and sexy sweetheart neckline. In fact, it’s the perfect outfit for Valentine’s, seeing that it’s a flattering shade of pink.

So why am I so nervous?

I know I’m attracted to Brax—it’s nearly impossible not to be.

I observe the alpha male as he sits across from me, his eyes scanning the sea and the horizon beyond it.

His ocean blue shirt makes his eyes pop even more against his bronzed skin. His hair is swept back in an effortless manner, like he’s just gone for a swim, and the salty water adds a sexy tousle that’s relaxed and casual. His body ripples with every move, emphasizing that powerful musculature.

Yeah, he’s hot.

But that still doesn’t fully explain my nerves.

If I’m being honest with myself, I know that I like Brax for more than his physical attributes.

He’s wolfish and assertive, but at the same time, he’s gentle with me. It’s a heady combination, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the slew of emotions that are already building up in my chest.

And after our miscommunication last night, I spent most of the day poolside, worrying that I might already be in over my head. The idea that Brax was rejecting me sent me into a tizzy, so why did I even agree to this date, knowing that my heart might suffer harm?

I shake my head. I’m crazy. That’s the only answer. But am I crazy by sticking myself out there, or am I going crazy falling for this guy? A tiny sigh escapes my lips.

“What is it?” Brax asks, leaning across the table toward me. He takes my hand in his and I practically swoon.

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” I admit, not sure if I want to let him into the strange innerworkings of my mind.

Brax gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Morgan. Tell me. That’s the whole point of tonight, to learn a little more about one another.”

I sigh and then offer him a slight smile. “I can’t believe I met you.”

He chuckles but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Is that good or bad?”

I laugh, the atmosphere growing light.

“Good, of course!”

He grins and then goes serious.

“I feel the same. It’s unexpected.”

“Oh? You mean you’ve never met a random woman on your beach before?” I ask teasingly. At the same time, I’m suddenly worried that Brax might make a game of wooing lonely female tourists. Is that a thing? Is this an elaborate scam?

After all, I’m sure Brax has had dozens of lovers—he’s handsome, skilled, and impossible for the female gender to resist. But I hope against hope that he doesn’t toy with every tourist he crosses paths with, because I’m not sure if I could take that kind of heartbreak.

But Brax just chuckles and shakes his head. “No. In fact, I don’t even see many people from my own community on that particular beach. The lagoon is kind of my own private spot. Which made you quite the surprise visitor.”

I smile at the memory and barely control my sigh of relief. “It’s peaceful there.”

Brax nods in agreement. “I like to fish in the lagoon, but I mostly just like to be in the water.”

“ Naked in the water,” I add saucily.

He snorts. “I always prefer to be naked.” He tugs at his shirt, like he’s about to take it off.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I gasp, looking around. “Are you going shirtless now ?”

He grins.

“Why, would that turn you on?”

“It would, but there are other people!”

His white smile flashes again.

“Naw, I’m just teasing you, Morgan. You’re so gullible. I’m not going to embarrass you in front of these folks.”

I roll my eyes.

“You are really something, you know that?”

He winks.

“I do know that, in fact.” Then, his eyes openly appreciate my cleavage. “Although I do like your dress.”

A warm rush flows through my belly.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

He squeezes my hand once more before leaning back into his chair.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m never embarrassed to be seen with you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I have been wondering,” Brax drawls. “Why did you decide to go adventuring away from the resort? For that matter, why did you even come to Mirago?”

“Ouch!” I tease. “You mean how dare you come to my island, mainland wench?” I giggle.

Brax throws back his head and laughs. “Not at all,” he reassures me, holding his palms toward me in a defenseless gesture. “My question is more along the lines of how on earth did you even find this place? Most of the tourists who come here are generational, and they start out when they’re children, visiting La Mirage with their parents.”

I cover my face with my hands. “It’s ridiculous,” I inform Brax.

“Well now I have to know,” he grins.

“An ad popped up on one of my social media accounts,” I explain, embarrassed that Brax will soon learn just how little thought I put into this vacation.

“An ad?” he demands, looking at me with a strange expression. “Who would put up an ad about Mirago?”

I shrug. “It was for La Mirage. Full confession: I was a bit tipsy and was looking up beach houses. And when the ad popped up, I was booking the trip before I knew it.” I laugh awkwardly.

Brax grins widely. “Okay, so you were drinking and succumbed to an algorithmically delivered advertisement.”

I roll my eyes toward the sky. “Okay fine, I was off my ass plastered and highly biddable at that moment.” I blink sweetly. “But aren’t you glad that advertisement worked?”

“I’ll write a personal thank you note to the marketing team tomorrow,” Brax says with a wink. “So beach houses? Find any good ones?”

I shake my head. “No, because then I went into a dark hole of island resorts. Thus, the spur of the moment hotel booking and all.”

Brax looks thoughtful. “Does that mean that you don’t like the place you live?”

“No, I do. But I needed a vacation. And flights from JFK to Mirago happened to be cheap.” I take a delicate sip from my champagne flute, trying to hide my sudden embarrassment at revealing my lack of funds.

But Brax doesn’t seem fazed by this information. “Smart way to do it. To travel off-season and not only avoid the overcharge, but the crowds, too.”

“Well, most of the crowds,” I tell him, remembering the dozens of families who apparently had the same idea as me. “It turns out La Mirage was almost fully booked. There are a lot of families staying here, and even more couples. The combo of swoony romantics and screaming kids is not exactly my idea of fun.”

“I see. So that’s why you left the resort?” Brax asks, taking a sip of his own drink.

I nod. “I like people, don’t get me wrong. But I was an hour into my vacation, and I felt like I was back in NYC already. And this is kind of the point of my entire trip—to escape the crowds, and see something different. To get out of my own head for a while.”

“New York.” Brax shakes his head knowingly. “Not exactly my type of place. There are too many buildings, and too much pollution. Not to mention all the crime and poverty.”

I try to smile but his words strike a chord deep within me because now he’s articulating what I’d sensed before. Brax isn’t likely to follow me back to my real life, no matter how much we end up liking each other.

Heartbreak, party of one.

“Do you know New York?” I ask, trying to lighten my sudden depressive mood. “Like, have you been to Manhattan before? There’s a lot of bad TV about the city, so sometimes visitors have pre-conceived notions that don’t line up with real life.”

“I’ve been there a few times,” Brax drawls with a grin. “Hasn’t everyone? It’s a big tourist destination. But why are you in New York, Morgan? Wouldn’t you rather live an island life of luxury?”

I smile, because some things about the life here does appeal to me. “So far, I like island life,” I admit. “The food, the energy. The company.”

“I like the company, too,” he agrees easily.

“I just don’t know what I’d do in a place like this,” I point out. “Work at La Mirage?”

Brax’s blue eyes sparkle with mischief. “I can think of a few things to keep you busy,” he says in a suggestive tone.

I giggle even as a dark thought crosses my mind because I could never be one of the women in his community. Providing sexual services in exchange for luxury accommodations?

No, that’s not my thing.

I look down at my glass, wondering if my next question might upset him, but determined to ask it anyway.

“All of those women who I saw at the community council meeting—do they really like living here?”

Brax shrugs. “I think so, yes. It really is their choice. They enjoy the lifestyle.”

“Being toys for a group of men?” The words come out more bitter than I mean for them to and I look at my hands, hoping I don’t sound like a shrew.

“I understand it might be hard for someone outside our community to understand,” Brax says calmly. “Another way to think about their choice is this: these women wanted a life of leisure and to be able to have sex without being judged for it. There’s nothing wrong with embracing the kind of lifestyle you want.”

I nod, slightly humbled but also certain that this particular part of island life isn’t for me.

“You aren’t into it, are you?” Brax asks, clearly reading the disapproval on my face.

I consider how to respond, twirling my champagne around as I choose my next words.

“I’ll admit, I’m into parts of it,” I confess. “But not all.”

“What parts?” Brax asks, his eyes flashing. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. No one’s listening.”

I giggle. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine,” I tease him. “I guess I like the idea of sexual freedom, on paper at least. And I will admit that the idea of lounging on chaises and drinking buckets of champagne all day does sound a lot better than my day job.”

Brax just shakes his head, chuckling as he does so. “But you’d be bored in five minutes,” he says. “Not with all the sex, but the lifestyle.”

I jut out my lip, pretending I’m hurt by his assessment. “You don’t know that!” I huff. “I could get used to a life of being spoiled.” But I can barely control my laughter. I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, you’re right. I would be trying to unionize the other women or something, all within a week of living here.”

He throws back his head and howls. “Oh man, Trek would be furious if you did something like that. And now, I kind of want to see you try.”

“Well, if my job in New York ends up being a dead end, I’ll let you know. Maybe I could come be the centerpiece on your council table or something.” I almost roll my eyes at the thought but catch myself. “You know, how they have naked girls perch like a statue.”

Brax’s blue eyes darken and flare.

“Except you’re mine. I’m not sharing you with those assholes.”

A small gasp escapes my lips. I’m both a little startled and turned on by the possessiveness in Brax’s voice as a small shiver of delight runs down my spine.

“But I’m yours,” I murmur, blinking innocently. “You know that, Brax.”

He rubs a hand across his face and sits up straighter—and a little further—from me. “Ha, no. This date is supposed to be about learning more about each other outside of sex,” Brax says sternly. “So, what about New York? What do you do there? Are you a student?”

I smile, charmed by this man’s efforts to resist the broiling physical attraction between us. For the moment at least. I smile, sweetly.

“No, I graduated from NYU a couple years ago. I work for the city. I guess I’ve been in my job for what—” I count the months on my fingers— “about four months now.”

“What do you do day to day?” Brax asks, chuckling.

I smile because it’s endearing that he’s interested in my life. I appreciate that he doesn’t want to rip off my clothes right away, and is instead taking the time to create a real connection, boring as my job might be.

“I work for the Human Resources Administration. Most of my position is helping New York City residents apply for government assistance, like food stamps or cash assistance.”

Brax raises his eyebrows, his turn to be surprised I guess. “That has to be grueling,” he says thoughtfully.

I nod, thinking how my job can be more monotonous than difficult. “At times it’s demanding. And a little sad. Some days it’s really hard to see people down on their luck like that.” I lean in toward Brax, appreciating his presence as I reflect on the troubles of real life.

“I can imagine,” Brax says, his tone full of sympathy.

“But I also have duties that are much less stressful,” I tell him quickly, not wanting to drag our conversation down the sad road of government assistance.

“And?” he encourages. I take a deep breath.

“Well, I’m trying to be more involved in workforce development, which is exactly what it sounds like. We’re trying to build better workers for the city’s labor force. So sometimes I sit with people and coach them on jobs and job prospects. Like I’ll read resumes or edit cover letters. Match them up with government contractors who are looking to hire. I don’t get to do this kind of work a lot, but when I can, I like it the most.”

Brax weaves his fingers through mine, clearly moved. “Sounds like you enjoy that kind of work more than helping people access safety net programs,” he points out.

“I do,” I tell him, playing with his hand. “But it’s really the non-profits that do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to workforce development. We partner together, but HRA is pretty much second fiddle in that department.”

“Then go work for a non-profit,” Brax says easily.

“Maybe,” I nod slowly.

The thing is, I know that he’s right: I should be working for a non-profit. I not only enjoy the work, but I like the selfless attitude of non-profit employees. HRA is wrapped in red tape and drowning in paperwork, and sometimes, I think my colleagues add to the bureaucracy instead of helping people work their way through the tangle.

Unfortunately, the reality of my situation is that money is tight, and non-profits don’t pay much. I’ve seen the job postings, and those salaries wouldn’t cover my rent, much less make a dent in my student loans.

I bite my lip, not really sure how much I want to reveal to Brax about my finances because I’m not exactly a wealthy woman. But at the same time, I feel like I can be completely honest with him and he would never judge me for choosing money over a dream.

“Ideally, I’d work for one of those non-profits,” I say slowly. “But I can’t do that until I’ve paid off my student debt. College was expensive and non-profits don’t pay as well as city jobs. It’ll have to wait.”

I smile, trying to displace any awkwardness I might have caused in talking about money.

“I see,” Brax says quietly. “That’s a mature approach. Even if it’s the hard choice.”

I nod. “That’s life. It’s all about hard choices.”

He chuckles. “You’re young, Morgan. You’ll get there soon enough. Besides, it sounds like you’re doing incredible work where you are. They’re lucky to have you.”

I blush, flattered by his praise. “I feel like all things Morgan have been dominating this conversation, mister. You need to talk more about yourself otherwise this is going to be all about me!”

“What can I say, I like learning more about you.” Brax winks. “Why, what do you want to know?”

I tap my chin, pretending to be think hard. “What do you do all day? Are you a surfer? Businessman? Island ruler? Let me guess—you do hula dances for La Mirage guests as part of the entertainment package! Wearing a loincloth, of course.”

Brax laughs, a deep sound that echoes in the still evening air.

“I surf but I’m not a surfer or anything that kind of hobby might imply,” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “But I’ll admit to loving the sea because I’m pretty sure I was swimming long before I could crawl.”

I grin at the idea of a baby Brax, cruising the waves.

“Okay, but that's not an answer. Do you work or…?” I ask the question, thinking about his luxurious apartment and wondering how someone who lives on a remote island can afford a place like that.

He nods as he takes another sip of his drink. “I’m a fisherman.”

I blink a few times. “A fisherman?” I repeat. “Like, on a boat?”

Brax grins broadly. “Yes, on a boat. I catch for the local market primarily. It works for me—I enjoy the physical labor, and like I said, I always prefer to be next to or in the water.”

“But your home is so… fancy .”

“Ah,” he interrupts. “Well, I wasn’t kidding when I told you that we own the island. The council has several sources of income, of which one is La Mirage, actually.”

I squint.

“How so?”

He shrugs.

“We receive payouts from the resort. In return for letting them build their fancy resort here, they pay us money.”

“You mean, rent?”

“Like rent,” he acknowledges. “They fork over a huge sum each year for the privilege. In return, we ask that they ensure that their guests stay within the boundaries of the resort. We don’t want to mix.”

“Because of your bulges.”

“Yes,” Brax acknowledges, inclining his head. “And for other reasons too. We find it’s better not to engage with tourists because we have different lifestyles and values. The girls appreciate it too.”

“I bet,” I murmur.

“But La Mirage is what it is,” Brax continues. “In my day to day, I’m a fisherman.”

I stare at this handsome man, trying to grapple with this new piece of information and how it fits into his wild, nature-loving personality.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” I blurt out. But I’m hardly embarrassed by the confession— there’s truth to my words, and I want Brax to know just how much I like him.

He chuckles with good humor. “The same goes for you, Morgan. I still can’t believe you stumbled onto this island, of all the places in the world.”

I feel my breath catch, in that fluttery way that makes me excited and nervous and eager all at once. I didn’t know if manifesting an incredible man would actually work. And now that he’s here, I don’t know if I could ever stand to leave him.

“Would you… would you ever consider visiting me?” I ask him, searching his face as I speak. “When I leave Mirago and return to New York?”

Brax winces and stares off into the darkness where the sea meets the land.

“I can’t make that promise, Morgan,” he responds quietly.

“I know,” I whisper back, wishing I hadn’t asked the question.

He turns back to look at me, his expression unreadable.

“Let’s focus on tonight,” Brax suggests calmly. “Let’s just enjoy the here and now, okay? I’m having dinner with a beautiful woman who’s charming, gorgeous, and altogether irresistible. What’s not to like?”

I raise my champagne flute and smile as brightly as I can, even though inside, my heart already feels like it’s breaking.

“Of course. To the here and now.”

But is this actually the end of us? A few more days of sun and sand, and then the curtain closes? Tears come to my eyes, even as I smile bravely into the knowing eyes of the man across from me.