Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
So he’s here for the free room and free food, like me. Oddly, it makes me feel a little less pathetic.
“Who are you here with?” asks Mr. Hot Coconuts.
My heart starts pounding because he asked me with a slight smile. A flirty smile.
Gah! He’s scoping me out!
I play it coy. “Oh, who am I here with?” I shrug, drawing out the moment a little. I want to savor this. The hottest man I’ve ever seen in the world is wondering if I’m single. “I am here with someone.”
“Oh?” He looks disappointed, and I am going to remember this for as long as I live.
“My best friend Sofie,” I add. “She’s sleeping off a night of fun.”
He smiles, and two puckers form in both cheeks. “Will she be sleeping off another night of fun tomorrow?”
My pulse is like a pack of galloping horses, running toward nirvana. “Maybe.”
“I, uh, have three waterfalls to check out, if you’d like to join me. I leave pretty early, though. Seven a.m.”
He’s asking me out! Ohmygod! This is insane. He’s a ten. I’m a six. Maybe a seven on a good day. Quick! Say something witty and flirty.
“Do I get to touch your coconuts?” I ask.
“Sure. You can help me get the shots—put them at different spots around the scene.”
Huh? Did he not get the sexual innuendo? “I’d love to help.”
“Mila! I’m so sorry.” Sofie walks up in a pink sundress, looking like she’s been through the princess carwash, all shiny and new. “I can’t believe how much fun I had.”
She stops in front of my lounge chair, noticing my new friend.
“Hi there.” She smiles.
Oh no you don’t, Slut-Vader. “Sofie, you’re awake. How was it with that waiter last night? Did he rock your world?”
Her mouth drops and then snaps shut. She looks at me and smiles. Genuinely smiles. Like I said, she’s a good person. She’s already figured out that this hot, hot piece of man sitting next to me is mine for the taking.
“Yes, I actually have plans to see him again tonight,” Sof says. “We’re going to some reggae club. Wanna come?”
“Oh, I can’t. I’ve got an early start tomorrow with…” I look at Mr. Hot Coconuts, and he picks up on the cue.
“I’m Carter.” He holds out his hand. “Carter Strike.”
“Mila.” I put my hand out, too, and we shake. “This is my friend Sofie.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says just as a cell starts ringing. He digs it from the front pocket of his backpack and looks at the screen. “My apologies, ladies, but I have to take this.” He looks at me with those stunning blue eyes. “Lobby? Seven sharp?”
“Absolutely,” I reply.
“Looking forward to it.” He winks and walks off.
Sofie and I stare at his tight, muscled ass flexing under his baby-blue shorts as he disappears inside.
Sofie slowly turns to me. “Who. The fuck. Is that?”
I smile. “Mr. Right.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I couldn’t sleep last night, but for the first time in a long time, it was because a man was on my hopeful mind. Mr. Hot Coconuts.
Yeah, yeah. I don’t know Carter, but wow. I’ve never had such an immediate, visceral reaction to a guy. It was like this empty spot inside, that had never been there before, opened up, and now I’m ravenous for him.
It has to mean something, right?
But here’s what’s standing in my way of going all in: He’s too hot! I mean, a man who’s that good-looking and passionate about his career has to have a flaw if he’s still single.
Now, now, Mila, the same could be said about you, I counter myself. I’m still single, yet I bring a lot to the table.
But do you have the kind of looks that instantly make men ejaculate? No. And no, I didn’t climax when I saw Carter, but holy hell, one flick of the lady pebble and I could’ve. He’s in a whole different lane of hotness compared to normal men. He’s like the Autobahn, and the rest are dirt roads filled with mud puddles.
Still, I have to wonder: What’s the catch? Because when something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
Tired and with a throbbing headache, I peel myself from bed. Sofie texted last night and said she was going to stay at Romeo’s place. Is that his real name or a metaphor? Not sure. Not caring. Because when I look in the mirror, my green eyes are like Christmas ornaments, green and red, completely bloodshot. To boot, I have dark bags under my eyes, which resemble sad, used-up teabags, and my frizzy red hair reminds me of a crime scene. Arson, for sure.
I look at the clock on the nightstand. “Crap.” I have thirty minutes to get ready—thank you, snooze button—but I need two hours to make myself into a seven (at best).
Game plan time. I have to go about this strategically. Wash hair and braid into pigtails. This will keep the frizz down in this humidity. Take vitamin B, ginseng, and order room service. Coffee and eggs for energy. I pick up the phone and order. I tell them I need service in fifteen. Boom. Done.