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)
My sandaled feet hit the floor of the tiki boat with a soft thud.
A curly blond mop of hair pops up over the ice trough. “Hey, boss.”
“Hey, Will.” I toss my bag onto the captain’s seat and push aside any lingering resentment. “How we lookin’?”
“Uh, let’s see … You’re gassed up, engine’s purring. You’ve got Solo cups, lots of ice, bottle opener, straws, trash bags …” He rhymes off the inventory list, counting down items on his fingers. “Yup, that’s it. You’re good to go.” He caps it off with a grin, his shirtless torso tan and muscular. But all my guys are in shape—minus Rolland. Lugging equipment in ninety-degree humid heat all summer along will do that to you whether you want it or not.
“Perfect.”
“Even crammed an extra bag in there.” Will slaps the top of the Yeti cooler.
“It’s a hot day, so we’ll probably need it.” I chug a mouthful of water, acutely aware of his bright gaze dancing over my bikini. While I’m used to my staff ogling me when my back is to them, they’re not usually so overt about it. Maybe this scant outfit was a bad choice. Oh well, too late now.
“Need anything else? ’Cause Frank wants me back at the compound to do repairs on the umbrellas.”
A never-ending task. “You’re good to go.”
“’Kay, see ya later, boss.”
“Actually—” I blurt, then falter. “You like working at Sea Witch, don’t you?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s always a good time. Love the guys. You’re awesome.” He flashes a crooked smile. “Why?”
So innocent, so nonchalant, like he didn’t try to stab me in the back.
“No reason.” Frank is right. I need to stop taking this whole thing so personally and be thankful I still have a team, though threadbare. “Better get out there before Frank calls.”
“Yikes. See you on the other end.” He skitters away, grabbing his cast-off T-shirt on the way.
I test the engine to confirm no issues and then spend a few minutes double-checking supplies and setting up the speaker for music until the sound of approaching steps and laughter draws my focus to the incoming group.
It’s not a bunch of guys after all, but three couples. That’s ideal. They’ll be too busy with each other to bother me. A hulking blond in a white tank top is lugging a case of beer in his arms. Hey, wait—he looks like Ronan’s mediocre friend—
Oh shit.
It is Ronan’s mediocre friend. Which probably means …
My stomach plummets to my sandals as the sleek form bringing up the rear of the line comes into full view, his soft gray T-shirt clinging to that perfect body. Intense green eyes hide behind signature aviators, his stony face half-hidden by a baseball cap.
I haven’t seen Ronan since we had sex against my kitchen wall two weeks and one day ago—almost to the hour. I haven’t heard a single peep from him. And now he shows up here, for a day cruise? Potentially with another woman?
I should throw my water bottle at his head. A part of me itches to.
And yet my pulse races in his presence.
A short brunette in a fuchsia bathing suit leads the pack. “Hi, I’m Ryan. You must be Sloane?”
“Uh …” I falter. Do they know what happened between Ronan and their captain? Is this why they booked me?
No, Skye gave her my name, I remind myself.
They’re all staring at me as I gape like a beached fish. Possibly wondering if they’re putting their afternoon and their lives in the hands of an idiot.
I clear my voice, doing my best to draw some semblance of confidence. “Captain Sloane for the next four hours.”
“Hottest captain ever.” Big dumb blond—what was his name again?—declares, peering over his sunglasses at my bikini top, or likely, at my chest. Did Ronan tell him what happened?
“Connor.” Ryan elbows him in his rib cage. “My brother thinks he’s charming. He doesn’t realize he’s a pig-slut.”
“A pig-slut. Hmm.” He mock frowns. “Did you learn that at your fancy MBA school?”
“No, I learned it while living with you,” she quips without missing a beat.
“You didn’t complain when you were paying practically nothing in rent for all those years.”
“Dad gave you your down payment.” She smiles sweetly up at him. “And, believe me, I did.”
“Is Ronan a pig-slut too?” His responding grin is broad and smug.
Even under the harsh sun, her cheeks redden.
“All right, children,” the tall preppy man in the button-down swordfish-print shirt on her left scolds playfully. He’s giving off major boyfriend vibes.
But what was that sly dig about Ronan?
Everyone’s standing around. Might as well get this awkward show on the road. Or water. I gesture toward the tiki. “Come aboard and get settled in. We’ll go over a few safety rules and then we can get this party started. There’s ice and supplies for your drinks.” Which it appears they’ve brought a lot of.