Dirty Girl

Making a Run for It

The hotel lobby buzzed with energy. Tourists draped in leis milled about, sipping cocktails from coconut shells and dabbing their brows with complimentary towels steeped in cucumber-infused water. A couple sat with the concierge, booking a whale-watching excursion, while bellboys expertly loaded luggage onto caddies.

A sandwich board near a long table caught Jordan’s eye: Volunteers Needed for Valentine’s Day Mud Run.

Curious, she strolled over and picked up a brochure. In true Jordan fashion, she read it twice, meticulously absorbing the details. The event raised funds for a local nonprofit that sent orphaned children to summer camp. Volunteers were needed for everything—setting up stations, handing out snacks, and assisting with registration.

She thought back to how much she had enjoyed volunteering decades ago. In her mind, she heard Kaitlyn’s voice: "It’s Jordan’s Era. It’s time to do what makes Jordan happy."

It was for a great cause. And maybe—just maybe—it would be an opportunity to meet someone special.

She shook her head. Why was she even thinking about romance? She wasn’t the type for casual flings, and she certainly wasn’t here to meet a man. Yet… here she was, entertaining the thought.

“Can I sign you up for the registration desk?”

A young woman with a high blonde ponytail—one that bounced wildly when she spoke—had appeared beside Jordan, her bright smile practically contagious. She wrapped an arm around Jordan’s shoulders and gestured to the posters of kids laughing at camp.

“The kids really appreciate you taking the time to help,” she said warmly.

Jordan couldn’t help but smile. The girl reminded her of Caleb’s girlfriend, Rebekka.

Before she could respond, a man approached. He had broad shoulders, an athletic build, and sun-kissed curls. His faded T-shirt and cargo shorts hinted at someone who spent more time outdoors than in, and he carried himself with the effortless confidence of a man used to being in charge.

And that smile—warm, easy, utterly disarming.

Laughing, he casually reached up and removed the girl’s hand from Jordan’s shoulder. “Okay, Brooklyn, maybe ease up a bit. Besides, this lovely lady looks like she’d be much better suited for handing out water bottles.”

Jordan feigned a look of mock offense. “Oh please, you’re both wrong. Clearly, I’m management material.”

The man grinned. “Unfortunately, that position’s already taken.” His deep blue eyes held hers, the weight of his gaze sending an unexpected thrill through her.

Was she imagining it, or did her heart just skip a beat?

He leaned in slightly, and Jordan caught the scent of his cologne—cedar and sandalwood, rich and sensual. In a low voice, just loud enough for Brooklyn to hear, he said, “Though, I could use a hand managing my team. They tend to get a little… unruly.”

He shot Brooklyn a wink, then flashed a wide smile, dimples deepening.

Jordan’s body betrayed her, leaning in as if drawn by some invisible force. Heat pooled in her cheeks, a delicious ache stirring deep within her.

She reached up to tuck a stray wave of dark blond hair behind her ear, trying to regain composure. Brooklyn caught sight of the band on her ring finger.

“Will your husband be volunteering too?” she asked excitedly.

The handsome man who had already captivated Jordan chuckled. “Brooklyn, you’re a natural salesperson.”

Turning to Jordan, he added, “But really, the more volunteers, the better. The Mud Run is our biggest fundraiser of the year. Every dollar we raise sends kids who’ve lost their parents to camp for the summer.” His expression softened, his passion for the cause evident.

Jordan hesitated for the briefest moment. “My husband won’t be joining us,” she finally said.

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. No one here needed to know the truth. She was only on this island for a week—what harm was there in letting them believe she was a happily married woman filling her time with charity work?

What could possibly go wrong?

The man’s grin widened. “He won’t be joining us? So that means you will?”

Jordan bit her lip. The thought of working alongside this man made her weak in the knees.

What the hell is wrong with me? Her inner critic screamed. He can’t be a day over thirty! He was probably surrounded by people his own age—people who shared his energy and ambition. People he belonged with.

And yet, here she was, dizzy from his charm and intoxicated by that damn cologne.

“Consider me at your service,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Great. I’m looking forward to working with you…”

“Jordan,” she answered, telling herself to remain calm.

Stop thinking about how good his hand feels on your skin. Stop thinking about how you want his fingers tracing the curves of your body…

“Jordan,” he repeated, as if tasting the name. “I’m Jake. Pleasure to meet you.”

He stepped back, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I have to run, but I’ll leave you in Brooklyn’s capable hands.” He threw another wink at Brooklyn, then turned to Jordan. “See you tomorrow.”

Jordan watched him walk away, already aching for the next time they’d meet.

Brooklyn cleared her throat. “So…can I assign you to be a labourer?”

Jordan tore her gaze away from Jake. “That sounds like...work.”

Brooklyn giggled. “You’ll be a huge help. We’re short-staffed, and there’s plenty to do. Set-up starts at seven tomorrow morning—can you be here then?”

“Of course.” Was she eager to help? Or just eager to see Jake again?

“Great. Meet us here in the lobby.”

Brooklyn paused, her eyes flicking to Jordan’s ring. “Oh, and if your husband changes his mind, we could really use the extra hands.”

Was Jordan imagining the slight suspicion in her tone? Was Brooklyn onto her lie?