Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“I always knew what he was about.”
“Yeah, thanks for warning me.”
The flat glare I get in return is almost comical. Frank’s not one to stick his nose into other people’s business, but he did grumble about Cody’s work ethic. I ignored him because customers loved Cody so much. And because I loved him.
After Gigi officially signed the properties and the business over to me and left for the nursing home, things changed. Cody moved into my house and began introducing himself as an owner around here. He helped himself to cash from the safe on occasion, to cover his truck payments and other loans. He picked fights with Frank almost daily to try to force him to move.
But it was the day Cody showed up with that negotiated offer for my land that the light bulb went off and I realized we were never going to work. He might have truly loved me, but he loved the idea of getting his hands on all that money more.
It’s been a year since I kicked Cody’s ass out and I’m still angry with myself for not seeing through him from day one. When I think about that momentary lapse of judgment where I considered putting him on the deed to my house, I feel like vomiting.
“Good thing I’ve added vetoing my dates to your job description then, huh?” I say half jokingly as I refresh my computer screen. I no longer trust my gut where men are concerned.
Another cruise booking appears. “It’s like everyone woke up from hibernation all at once. At least we’re getting bookings, even if we don’t have staff.”
“Hibernation sounds good.” Frank checks his watch. He’s been here since 5:00 a.m. “Other side’s locked up for the day. If you don’t need me, I’m gonna head home and grab a few hours of sleep.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later. Hey, can you stop by Dollar General and grab me some more poster board?”
“No, Sloane.” He shakes his head fervently. “This isn’t healthy—” His scolding words are cut off at the ding of the doorbell, as two brawny male customers step inside.
“The bros are back in town,” Frank murmurs under his breath, earning my elbow. If there’s a type that annoys him, it’s the loud, obnoxious twenty-somethings whose mamas have told them they’re God’s gift to the world enough times that they wholeheartedly believe it. Their type flocks here for guys’ weekends like perverts to a wet T-shirt contest.
I can’t tell if these two fit that mold. They’re certainly fit. The blond has to be a gym rat, given the size of his chest and arms. The tattooed one is also built, but not nearly as bulky. He certainly doesn’t scream frat boy or easygoing, his angular face stony, his eyes hidden behind aviators.
I splash on my customer-friendly smile, despite my sour mood. “Can I help you two with something?”
“Yeah, this whiny little bitch needs a coffee before he’ll let me eat.” The blond jerks his thumb at his friend, showing off perfect teeth with his grin. I’ll bet that gets a lot of women giggling like fools.
The dark-haired guy’s hard expression doesn’t so much as crack, as if he’s used to his buddy’s digs. Or he’s just had a really long day.
“Coffee shop is on the other side, and it’s closed.” Frank folds his brawny arms.
“See?” Blondie smacks the other’s chest. “What’d I tell you. It’s officially beer o’clock.” He looks around. “You don’t serve beer here, do you?”
“Nope,” Frank says with forced patience.
The blond scans the white shiplap-clad space, waving a hand at the beach chair and umbrella set up in the corner. “What’s all this about, then?”
I’ll bet this one’s a lot to handle. But I may as well promote us while they’re here. Surely they have thick wallets. “We rent them out to tourists. We also rent paddleboards, and we now have Jet Skis available. And we do tiki bar cruises, if you and your friends want a tour around the area with a drink in your hand.”
“Hence the Brews and Cruises on the sign,” he muses.
“Exactly. We still have slots available for this weekend. It’s a great way to spend an afternoon.”
Frank taps the wall next to him, plastered with bikini-clad groups toasting drinks and splashing water for the camera.
The blond edges over to investigate the customer photos with interest. “Where’s this at?”
“Starfish Island. It’s about a ten-minute ride out, past the …”
While Frank describes the idyllic spot where tourists linger for hours during high season, the other guy meanders to my desk with a lazy stride. “Connor can be loud and annoying, but underneath it all, he’s a mediocre friend and an exhausting roommate,” he says by way of greeting, his voice deep and raspy.
I chuckle at his dry humor. “You’re lucky to have him.”
“That’s what he keeps telling me.” The guy’s attention lands on the framed photo hanging on the wall next to me. “‘Gigi, the original sea witch,’” he reads out loud. “Who was she?”