Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Help, you said?” Sienna says, coming to her senses first. “Please. Yes. God. You two are like angels. We’re absolutely smashingly lost. Have we got the right dock? It is this one, isn’t it?”
Tyson laughs and points behind us. “Right dock. Just need to go down a few more yards.”
Phillip and I haven’t said a word yet, though we have acknowledged each other in that private way, his eyes on me, seemingly full of questions.
Where have you been, and who’ve you been with, and why haven’t I seen you all day?
I tip my head and study him. He’s so handsome in his blue button-down, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. Blue is his color, though I could say that about any color, really. I love the way he looks in black and brown, gray, white . . .
Tonight, he’s swapped out his suit pants and slacks for charcoal gray shorts. He’s still dressed nicely—you know how you can just tell sometimes when clothes are well made and tailored? But the overall takeaway is still casual and sexy. I like that his hair is slightly mussed up from the breeze. Not that perfectly combed look he so clearly prefers. And it’s nice to see a bit of his chest too.
“We’re happy to walk you two back to the ship,” Tyson says, interrupting my in-depth perusal of Phillip. It’s like I was trying to catalog every inch of him for scientific purposes. Maybe I had more of that coconut drink than I thought . . .
“No need—” I say at the same time that Sienna cuts in effusively.
“That would be wonderful! Thank you.”
Then she smoothly takes her position beside Tyson, and they walk along so that Phillip and I are left behind them, stuck with no other option than to acknowledge each other out loud. To speak.
“Ahem.”
He mimics me with a throat clearing of his own. Our eyes meet, we laugh, look away.
I contribute by offering, “Nice night, don’t you think?”
“Oh yeah. The weather has been great.”
It’s like we’re both in on the same inside joke—the hilarity of our situation is not lost on either of us.
“Been wandering around?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. I finally see Aurelia up ahead. We really weren’t that far off. I think we could have found it eventually.
Phillip angles his head back up the path. “Just popped into my favorite bar on the island. Had to visit it while we were here for the day. I live in fear that it’ll change. New owners and all that . . .”
“Was it like you remembered?”
He smiles and looks sidelong at me. “Exactly the same, down to the signed dollar bills pinned on the wall. What about you?” he asks, his eyes lighting on my dress.
It’s the same one I’ve had on all night, and I recall the way Sienna dismissed it at dinner, but it seems Phillip likes it well enough. I see the way his gaze stalls on my legs. The dress is a little short.
“Sounds like we had similar nights. Our place was packed to the gills. One of those restaurants that turns into a dance club at the stroke of nine. It was only just starting to get really loud and fun. I didn’t want to leave, but I was worried we’d miss the boat.”
He checks his watch, the one I teased him about my second morning on board. “You still have ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes of aimless wandering if you and Tyson hadn’t come along.”
“I would have stalled them if you hadn’t shown up,” he says like it’s a solemn swear.
I puff out a disbelieving breath. “Uh-huh. I’ll bet.”
“Our manifest is updated electronically every time a guest boards or disembarks the ship. If you weren’t accounted for, there’s no way I would have gone on without you.”
I lay a hand over my heart like I’m really touched. “So that’s my special treatment after last night? Along with the interview questions, I guess. Why’d you do that, by the way? I told you that’s not why I was there. There was no angle. No secret hope. I expected to be back at square one with you.”
He drags a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing for a moment before he shakes his head. “I know your intentions were the same as mine. Pure, that is. Well, as pure as your intentions can be when there’s a woman like you draped across the back of my couch . . .”
“Phillip!”
He grins like he enjoys teasing me before he goes on. “I just . . . it felt like the right thing to do.”
That doesn’t quite answer my question. I should drop it. We seem to have somehow eased through the worst of the awkwardness and come out the other side.
But . . . I just can’t help myself.