Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“That’s a nice shot,” I said.
“Thank you,” he replied. “It makes me smile whenever I look at it.”
I scanned the street ahead of us, the long stretch of this walk along the ocean back to my hotel. It was teeming with people. Women in sundresses and cute little shorts. Guys in board shorts and in Hawaiian shirts too, laughing, chatting, and savoring the warm night and the sea air.
What was the harm in walking with him after all?
I met his gaze again. “If your offer still applies, yes. You can walk me back to my hotel.”
“I would love to.”
A few paces in, I asked, “So what’s she like? Your sister?”
“She’s a hard worker. Very determined. She really wants to do well and I’m proud of her. But she’s a worrier. I’m just glad she turns to me for help when she does.”
“It is sweet,” I said.
“What about you?” he asked, his tone decidedly direct.
I arched a brow. “Do I have siblings? Or am I a worrier?”
“Sure. You can tell me if you have a brother or sister, but I was actually asking if you’ve got a man somewhere.”
I scoffed. The notion of a boyfriend was so foreign to me. “No. And no interest, to be frank. My ex was…Well, let’s just say he’s not my favorite person.”
“Makes sense he’s an ex then,” he said.
“I do have a brother though,” I said, picturing Cole shooting videos underwater the other day. “He’s pretty great.”
“Glad to hear that. And what podcast were you listening to?”
This would give more of me away, but I kind of liked getting to know him. “Badass Babe.”
“That’s a business podcast,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
I was surprised he knew what it was. “Yes. How did you know that?”
“My sister listens to it. My other sister. Not Kylie but Kate. She’s very focused on being the best she can be at business.”
“So am I,” I said. Hell, I desperately needed to improve after the tough past year. But I didn’t want to talk about my struggles. So when we walked by a souvenir shop and my gaze caught on a tie-dyed T-shirt reading Life is Better in Flamingo Key, I shifted gears: “Best part of Flamingo Key so far?”
“You know it would be super cheesy if I said you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are absolutely not allowed to be super cheesy.”
He hummed, taking his time. Then, after a deep exhale, he said, “I guess I would have to say walking along the water at night.”
I smiled but tried to hide it from him. “It sure is a nice walk,” I said, seconding him in my own way.
“Sure is.”
When we neared my hotel, I didn’t overanalyze. I went for it, and impulsively said, “You want to grab a drink by the pool?”
I just didn’t want the night to end.
“I know I said you weren’t allowed to be cheesy,” I said. “But this drink is definitely that.”
At the tiny bar overlooking the pool at my hotel, I lifted my huge glass. The cocktail was fruity and garish, and it smelled like everything wonderful about the island. “I don’t even care if piña coladas are cheesy. They’re just good.”
Jake tipped his beer bottle to my glass. “I’ll take your word on that.”
He paid for the drinks and set his hand on my back, guiding me through the mostly empty pool area to the lounge chairs by the beach.
When we reached the sand, I raised the glass and took a sip, hoping to tempt him with my groan of delight. “Mmm…” I wagged the glass, teasing, “You know you want it.”
“Now I do,” he said, low and smoky.
I bobbed a shoulder in a coquettish shrug. “See? I knew I could win you over.”
“It’s not the drink that’s doing that, sweetheart.”
My stomach flipped, and I wanted more of those sensations. It had been so long, and I missed this unadulterated feeling of flirting, of giving in, of just feeling good.
We picked a pair of lounge chairs as far from the pool as we could find. I indulged in another sip, murmuring my praise once again. “How can you resist pineapple and coconut?”
With a smirk, he lifted his beer bottle and took a pull. But he said nothing. So stoic.
I wasn’t. I took another sip.
“Fine. I’ll try it now,” he said.
“Finally!” I handed the glass to him. But instead of drinking, he set it down on a little table between our lounge chairs. He put his beer bottle there too. I lifted an eyebrow in question.
Then he leaned in and kissed me gently.
Yes.
Oh yes.
It was a slow, lingering, delicious kiss that made my head swim. He swept his tongue against my top lip, gently flicking it along the corner of my mouth. I parted for him, letting him taste the drink on me. Then he pulled back with an appreciative groan.