Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
The bikini seemed like a good idea this morning. Now, I just feel Naked and AfraidTM.
I have a clear view of Blaze while he works behind the bar counter. He smiles easily at a customer, and I’m reminded of his easygoing nature. Guests and hotel staff all like him. I like him. While he might be chiseled steel on the outside, inside he’s made of soft plush. More than that, I don’t have to prepare myself for battle when we speak, unlike with Cole. Not to mention, he’s so cute in his uniform. It’s the same standard-issue short-sleeved black button-down tucked into black shorts that everyone else wears, too, but he’s made it his own. For example: he has a little gold necklace hanging around his neck. A pen tucked behind his right ear. Okay, really that’s it, just those two things, but I feel like he’s so unique and different.
“Don’t you think he’s so unique and different?”
“Please stop.”
Lara can’t do it anymore. She’s been here with me for hours. She wants to drown herself to get away from my incessant chatter about Blaze. But I’m sorry, it’s called friendship. Suffer, bitch.
Lara’s leaning over the side of the pool, occupying herself by scrolling on her phone while I keep a not-so-surreptitious eye on Blaze behind the bar.
“We’ve been pretty lucky so far this hurricane season,” Lara muses out loud. She must be on her weather app. She checks it a lot. She’s a constant worrier when it comes to tropical storms. If there’s so much as a rain cloud in the sky, she’s going to duck for cover. “But storm watchers are tracking—”
. . . gibberish . . . boring . . . don’t care . . .
“Uh-huh.”
“It could be really bad. Winds at really high speeds. A ton of rain.”
“Oh no,” I say with absolutely no inflection.
Then, as if someone just personally insulted me and my entire family, I explode with “Are you kidding me?!”
Some huge dude just plopped himself down on a barstool directly in front of me, blocking my view of Blaze. The guy has to be at least six foot five, built like a horse. His shoulders could span the width of the Grand Canyon. Is this a joke?
“Sit somewhere else, guy!”
Fortunately, (a) he can’t hear me over the music, and (b) my view isn’t blocked for long. Blaze moves to grab a bottle opener so he can pop the cap off a beer. Then he looks over and spots us. It’s the first time he’s looked this way all morning, and unfortunately, I’m still wearing the scowl I was aiming at the big guy. Ah! I quickly relax my features into a flirty smile. Then I wave.
He holds up his finger as if he wants us to wait; then he goes back to making drinks.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. He’s going to come over here!”
I look down to confirm my breasts are still somewhat contained in the bikini top. I blanch at how much skin is showing. A lot. Holy hell. I shift material to the right, but then my nipple almost pops out, so yeah, we’ll just leave it as it is.
A few minutes later, Blaze leaves his station carrying what look to be two innocuous water cups. I know because when guests order at the bar, their drinks come in fancy resort-branded cocktail glasses. These are boring clear plastic. When Blaze reaches us, he leans down and explains in a hushed conspiratorial tone, “Vodka sodas with a splash of lime.”
“Yes!” Lara says, taking hers greedily. “You’re the best.”
I give him a big smile. “Awesome. Thanks, Blaze.”
“No problem, Paula.”
Wait.
Hold the phone.
Paula?
Lara snorts and nearly chokes on her drink.
Okay, so this isn’t exactly great, but it’s totally understandable! Blaze has only worked here for what? Two months? And we’ve only met a dozen or so times. It could happen to anyone. It’s cute, actually. We’ll be laughing about this moment next year when we’re celebrating our one-year anniversary. Remember when you didn’t even know my name?! Ha ha ha.
I’m about to clarify—sweetly, of course!—that my name is actually Paige, not Paula, but Blaze’s attention cuts to something over our heads on the opposite side of the pool. His easygoing expression is wiped clean in an instant. The color starts to drain from his face.
Obviously, I turn to see what could possibly have him looking so worried.
It’s Cole.
Of course.
He’s standing on the pool’s edge in a suit and tie. A menace in navy blue.
He’s not scowling, not firing off uncouth threats. But all the same, he sends Blaze packing, running back to his spot at the grotto bar like his life depends on it.
Wonderful.
Cole doesn’t look at me. He watches Blaze with his astute glare until he’s working again, faster than ever.
Cole is far enough away that he wouldn’t hear me unless I shouted, so I’m forced to use telepathy.