Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Is it any good?”
“It’s all right.”
“Do you read a lot?”
“We don’t have TV when we’re out at sea, so pretty much all the time.”
“You should get a Kindle.”
“What’s that?”
Digging into my bag, I pull mine out and pass it over to him, and he begins to inspect it and click the buttons on the side. I know he’s opened the book I’m reading when he looks over at me and raises a brow. “The first rule of being a reader is we don’t judge each other for what we enjoy reading.”
“I’m not judging you. This just seems much more interesting than what I’ve been reading.” He drops his eyes to my Kindle, and since I know where I was at when I turned it off last night, my cheeks warm as I watch his gaze slide across the screen. “How do you change the page?”
Moving closer to him, I show him where you just touch it, and he leans back and gets comfortable with my book.
“You’re going to make me lose my spot if you keep reading.”
“You can’t go back?”
“You can.” I sigh and lean back in my lounger, peeking over at him every once in a while just to see his expression.
“What are your plans for dinner?” he asks after a few minutes, and I turn my head his way.
“I was just going to order room service.”
“Do you want to have dinner with me and the guys? We have a reservation for the restaurant at our hotel at seven.”
Should one go out to dinner with a vacation fling and his friends? God, I should have gotten the rules for this from April, because it’s obvious I have no idea what I’m doing.
“I….”
“Or you and I could do something, just the two of us.”
“Dinner with you and your friends sounds good,” I say quietly. I don’t know that I’m ready for dinner alone with him.
“Good,” he replies just as quietly before he turns back to my book and continues reading.
Looking out at the ocean, I wonder why I suddenly feel like I’m in way over my head.
CHAPTER 3
hanna
Picking up my phone, I check the time, and a mixture of excitement and anxiety floods my system in an instant when I see I have less than ten minutes before I’m supposed to meet Walker in the lobby downstairs.
Two hours ago, he left to head back to his hotel with the promise he’d be back to pick me up, so I could ride with him over to where he and his friends are staying. Something I tried to talk him out of doing, because it didn’t make sense to me that he would pay for a cab twice. But he was insistent, and eventually I gave up fighting him about it, even though I really didn’t want him waiting on me when I wasn’t sure I would have enough time to go to the boutique in the hotel, find something to wear, and get ready in time for dinner.
I got lucky though. As soon as I walked into one of the small boutiques downstairs, I found a cute cropped long-sleeved silk blouse and a skirt with a slit up the thigh in the same sage-green.
Leaning toward the mirror, I add another layer of mascara, then grab my clip and pull back half of my hair, leaving the rest flowing down my back in waves. I didn’t need to add much makeup after being in the sun all day, and with the freckles that seemed to come out of nowhere since I started vacationing, a full face of makeup wouldn’t have done much good anyway.
With a final glance at my reflection, I grab my cell from the counter, slip on a pair of sandals I brought with me, then nab my purse off the end of the bed.
The second I reach the elevator, my phone dings with a text, and I glance at it quickly as I step inside.
Walker: I’m here
With a deep breath, I remind myself that today was good. Actually, it was nice to have someone to spend time with. Normally when I take these trips, I’m alone, which I don’t mind—I like my own company—but I enjoyed his presence, even with the undercurrent of sexual tension that was difficult to ignore.
As soon as the doors to the elevator open, I spot him across the lobby. It shouldn’t be possible for a man to look more attractive when you just saw him a hundred and twenty minutes ago, but seeing Walker again, I now know it is.
The tapered black suit pants and fitted black button-down that is open at the throat and rolled up at the sleeves makes him look like one of those wealthy guys you’d see on social media. And then if you deep-dive into his photos, you’d find he does nothing with his days but spend time on his yacht and his nights drinking expensive bourbon and banging models.