I'm, and she still couldn't get over the look on George's face. That was a look she'd never forget. She couldn't decide if Sloan was a blessing or a walking, talking hurricane of chaos. Either way, her days had definitely gotten a lot more interesting since his arrival.
It had been one of those days when the heat of the sun matched the fire in her chest. Charlie had barely caught her breath after the market mishap, and now, she was faced with another curveball.
As the evening set in and everyone gathered around for dinner, Charlie couldn't help but feel a strange mix of comfort and uncertainty. Her attraction to Sloan was undeniable, but the teasing? The cheeky grins? That wasn't something she was used to. It was like a never-ending game of tug-of-war between her better judgment and... well, her heart.
"So, what's on the menu tonight, Charlie?" Sloan's voice broke through her thoughts, laced with that signature mischievous tone. He was lounging on the couch, looking way too comfortable for someone who had just become a walking local legend with the "Momma Chawie" incident.
Charlie rolled her eyes, playing along even though her cheeks still burned from the day's banter. "I thought we'd try a local delicacy tonight. Coconut shrimp with a spicy twist. What do you think?"
Sloan gave her a teasing look, his eyes dancing with unspoken mischief. "Sounds delicious... but I'm gonna need some extra spice tonight to keep up with all the heat you've been dishing out."
Charlie bit her lip, trying not to crack a smile. "Oh really? You think you can handle the heat, huh?"
He leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice to a low, smooth drawl. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm a professional when it comes to spice. You just focus on keeping up."
Charlie swore she could feel the air around them shift as his words hung heavy between them. She quickly turned away, fighting the sudden rush of warmth in her cheeks. Her heart had a mind of its own, and Sloan had definitely become a lot more than just a resort guest to her.
But before she could lose herself in the moment, the sound of Mon and Sicily's voices filled the room, bringing her back to reality.
"Oh no, not again," Charlie muttered, but Sloan grinned like a Cheshire cat. "What? No, I'm just getting started."
"Just wait," Charlie warned, knowing full well what was about to unfold.
Sure enough, George came bouncing into the kitchen, eyes as wide as ever. "Are you sure you two aren't getting married yet? Because you look like you're about to!"
Charlie's stomach did a backflip. She immediately threw up her hands, her voice light and casual, hoping to brush past it. "Okay, okay, let's not start that again. It's been a long day, and I'd rather just focus on dinner, alright?"
But Sloan, of course, had other plans.
"Oh, you know, just the usual," he drawled, stretching lazily as he shot her a sideways grin. "Trying to get through the day without being labeled the 'future groom' of our lovely host over here."
Charlie's jaw nearly dropped. "Excuse me?" she whispered through gritted teeth, but Sloan just winked.
George gasped, eyes nearly popping out of his head. "So, wait! That means you are getting married?! Momma Chawie, you lied to me?!"
Charlie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Sloan," she muttered, "I swear—"
Sloan chuckled, completely unbothered. "What? Just giving the people what they want."
Mon and Sicily returned with the ingredients just in time to see the chaos unfold. "What's going on in here?" Sicily asked, her voice laced with amusement.
Charlie opened her mouth to answer, but Sloan beat her to it. "Apparently, I've been promoted from resort guest to fiancé."
Charlie shot him a glare that could have set him on fire.
Hearing this, Sicily felt a pang of jealousy. After being with Sloan, they never talked about marriage and now with Charlie, Sloan was bringing it up.
Sicily's laughter rang through the kitchen, but something in her expression didn't quite match her usual teasing energy. "Oh, wow. So it's like that now?"
Charlie forced a chuckle. "It's not like anything."
Sicily just hummed, arching a brow at Sloan. "Well, I guess some guests get the special treatment."
Charlie's stomach twisted at the words.
Sloan smirked, oblivious to the tension creeping into the air. "What can I say? Charlie's got a talent for making people feel at home."
Charlie shot Sicily a glance, trying to gauge her reaction, but her guest's expression was unreadable. Still, Charlie could feel it—that small shift in the air, like a thread being pulled loose.
George, still hung up on the conversation, chimed in again. "Momma Chawie, are you sure you're not already married to Mr. Sloan? You look good together!"
Charlie's brain short-circuited, and she felt the familiar blush creep up her neck again.
Sloan leaned over and whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "Well, what do you say? Maybe we should just give the people what they want."
Charlie swallowed hard, her mind racing. But before she could even form a response, Sicily's voice cut through the moment like a blade.
"So, Sloan, how long are you staying?"
The air shifted instantly.
Charlie froze.
Sloan hesitated. Confused with the question and the sudden snarky remark of Sicily.
And in that split second, Charlie realized—she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.