Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Oh, please. This is hardly a stuffy boardroom. Who cares if you live a little? Surely, that’s better for your writing anyway. Getting the inside scoop from letting Ricardo get inside—”
I cut her off by clearing my throat. “Noted.”
I accept the seat beside Ricardo, and Sienna hops in right behind me in the second row. While Ricardo drives us around Old Town, pointing out the sights, Sienna wastes no time at all in prying into his personal life.
I’ve got the gist. He’s lived on the Keys his whole life. He works part time at a bar by Sunset Pier. No girlfriend.
“You don’t have to keep humoring her,” I tell him while we’re stopped at the Key West Lighthouse. Sienna and I listened to Ricardo’s spiel about it. It is as interesting as an old lighthouse could be, but the rest of the group is still roaming the grounds, taking their sweet time. Sienna and I sit in the golf cart, wanting the shade. “She’s about to ask you if you have a 401(k) . . . when you last had a dental checkup, that sort of thing.”
Sienna leans forward, not even denying it. “Yes, actually, those are both good questions. Let’s see your teeth.”
Ricardo laughs. “I don’t mind. Swear. You two should come out tonight.”
“Out? Where?” Sienna asks with a mouthful of pastry.
“I’ll be bartending. Free drinks . . . dancing. It’ll be a good time.”
“And they say romance is dead!” Sienna jokes.
“Ricardo?” A guy in our group waves to get his attention. “Who did you say built this lighthouse again?”
Ricardo hops out to answer his question.
Sienna moans quietly. “Who cares about some shitty lighthouse? Can’t we go to the beach already? It’s sweltering. I feel like I’m sweating out every ounce of alcohol we consumed last night.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing . . .”
“I don’t know. At this point, I feel like I could lick my arm and come away tasting tequila.”
The thought makes me laugh.
“I had breakfast with Tyson, sort of by accident.”
“Oh, really?”
Her brow arches. I remember him carting her off yesterday to give Phillip and me a moment to talk by ourselves. I wonder if there was more to it.
“So . . . what do you think of him?”
I expect her to go gaga over how handsome he is—styled, groomed, charming. All of the above.
She holds up her hand. “Save it. He’s not single.”
I’m more than a little surprised. “How do you know?”
She shrugs and crosses her arms, squinting over at the lighthouse. “I looked him up last night in my drunken stupor. He has an Instagram account. He doesn’t post much, but when he does, it’s all pictures of the same woman with these nauseatingly sweet captions. The whole account is like an homage to her. The lucky cow.”
“Oh well. Ricardo’s nice.”
“He’s interested in you,” she points out, shifting her gaze to me with a waggle of her brows.
“Well, I bet he has friends,” I say with a teasing wink. Surely there’s more just like him. Sexy locals.
“True. All the better for me. I need a proper lay.”
“Same, but it’s kind of hard to get things going on a vacation like this. We leave Key West in the morning, so it’s now or never with men like Ricardo. I’ve never had a one-night stand,” I admit, recognizing the truth of my earlier suspicions about cruise ship relationships. Sienna and I have known each other for barely twenty-four hours, and already, I’m spilling secrets to her. We’re on friendship warp speed.
“I have, twice.” She scrunches her nose in distaste. “They were just okay. Sort of not worth the trouble of having to sneak off in the morning all awkward and guilty. Still, I have mates that swear by them. I’m willing to give it another go.” Her expression turns wicked with glee. “Maybe we should both live a little on this trip. Explore our options.”
I shrug, mulling it over. “Could be interesting.”
With everything else in my life quite literally in the gutter, I don’t see any issue with letting loose and having fun with a guy. Distracting myself for a few hours sounds perfect. No strings attached. No need to fill him in on my sad little life.
She claps. “Okay, so it’s settled. We’re going to sow our wild oats.” She leans closer, perusing our tour group. “I’m afraid to say, but outside of Ricardo, we’ve managed to get the oldest and crustiest of the bunch. I mean, where are the hunks? Ignoring this sad lot, who would be your pick for a one-night stand out of everyone we’ve met so far? Ricardo?”
Her eyes spark with the idea that there’s something brewing between me and our tour guide. Unfortunately, Phillip, not Ricardo, is the first man to come to mind. The realization startles me like I’ve just had a bucket of cold water poured over my head.