Chapter Five: Heat Rising
465 Words
The next day, the sky threatened rain.
Gray clouds loomed above the lush island, casting shadows across the beach setup for the rehearsal dinner. Sasha stood barefoot in the sand, sleeves rolled, clipboard in one hand and phone in the other.
“Move the canopy closer to the palms,” she instructed into the phone. “We’re not gambling on the forecast.”
“Boss mode: activated,” came a voice from behind her.
She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
Julian.
He was wearing a white T-shirt that clung to his chest and a pair of linen trousers that should’ve looked ridiculous but somehow didn’t. He held a steaming coffee in one hand—and an umbrella in the other.
“For the queen of control,” he said, handing her the drink. “Thought you might need caffeine with a side of flirtation.”
Sasha accepted it with a cautious smile. “Thanks. Keep the flirtation. It’s extra calories.”
Julian laughed. “Are you always like this?”
“Efficient?”
“Defensive.”
She sipped the coffee, eyes locked on the crew rearranging the chairs. “I don’t have time to be soft.”
Julian stepped closer. “And if someone made time for you?”
She turned to face him.
“That would mean I stopped running the show. And I don’t know how to do that.”
Julian studied her for a long beat, then nodded slowly. “Fair.”
For once, he didn’t push. Didn’t joke.
Just… looked at her.
And for a split second, the wind fell still and the world narrowed to only him. The way he watched her, like she wasn’t a storm to avoid—but one to step into.
The moment was broken by a gust of wind that lifted a linen napkin off one of the tables. Sasha grabbed it instinctively—and Julian caught her arm as she nearly lost her balance on the sand.
Again, that charged silence.
His hand stayed on her bare skin longer than necessary.
“Seriously,” she muttered, “do you practice rescuing me?”
“Only when you look like you need it,” he murmured.
Her heart skipped. And this time, she didn’t pretend it hadn’t.
---
That night, the clouds opened up. Rain poured in sheets, wild and warm.
Sasha stood under the overhang of her villa, watching lightning streak across the sky, when she heard the knock.
She opened the door—and Julian was standing there, soaked through, holding two glasses and a bottle of wine.
“I heard storms make you weak,” he said, grinning. “Want to test the theory?”
She hesitated.
Just a second.
Then she stepped back, silently inviting him in.
- Writer
