Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Maybe after the wedding, I’d take a vacation. A real one, not a work trip I called a vacation because I went clubbing after meetings.
Scott looked a bit more at ease knowing that I wasn’t behind any of the fine details.
Maybe I should have taken offense at that.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your family though. Finally,” I added, fluttering my eyelids. I affected a goofy, girly voice. “Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you never took me home to meet your parents?”
“Yeah, I don’t generally take people home to meet the parents. Mainly because I’m never at home with my parents. I don’t make it to the West Coast that often. Hell, you’ve probably been in California more often than I have in the past ten years,” Scott said with a shrug. A flicker of sadness crossed his face. “The last time I saw them was the cruise.”
“Yikes.” That was unusual for Scott. Though I wasn’t exactly close with my own family—except my mother—, Scott talked about his parents and his little sister like he worshipped them.
“Do me a favor, though,” Scott began, wincing. “You don’t want to get involved with my sister—”
“Whoa, hold up. Do you really think I’m going to try to fuck your little sister?” That would be low, even for me.
“No, I was going to warn you about her.” Scott half-groaned, half-laughed. “Look, she’s…kind of free-spirited.”
“You said she, direct quote, ‘knew every passenger with an upside-down pineapple on their cabin door’ after that cruise.”
“Yeah, and not because she liked fruit.”
“Oh, I think there was probably some eating of—”
“Don’t.” Scott held up a warning index finger. “What I’m saying is, you just got out of an engagement. I know what you’re like on the rebound. And she will decimate your heart. She’s brutal.”
“I like that kind of confidence,” I needled him. “It’s sexy.”
“I know you’re fucking with me,” he prefaced his statement, “but I’m serious. She’s my sister. I love her, and I would bust anyone’s face in a heartbeat if they hurt her. But it’s more likely you would get hurt.”
“What makes you think I’m in grave danger here?” I demanded. “I feel like this is a conversation that a person has with a little sister, not about one.”
“Because you are exactly her type. Older—”
“Watch it!”
“Than her, Father Time.” Scott rolled his eyes. “You’re older than her, you’re funny, and you’re fucking jacked.”
“Thanks for noticing.” I had been working out more the past few months. My looming fortieth birthday had increased my thoughts of mortality and the frailty of the human body.
“I don’t want there to be weirdness, okay?” Scott finally gave up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He had warned me. The problem was, the warning had only piqued my interest.
ChAPTER TWO
(Charlotte)
The resort was absolutely ridiculous. There was no other way to describe it. We pulled through the tall wrought iron gates at midnight, and everything inside the stucco perimeter fence was hopping.
“I thought this was a quiet seaside vacation spot,” Mom said nervously as she peered out the window of the giant SUV that had picked us up.
A deep bass throb vibrated the air around the car as we pulled up to the reception building. When an attendant opened our door, the distorted voice of an overly enthusiastic DJ was shouting, “If you’re having a good time, get those hands up!” to a cascade of cheers.
“What the hell is that?” Mom asked the man who’d opened her door.
The guy was probably around my age, but he didn’t waver when confronted by Mom’s I’d-like-to-speak-a-manager tone. Instead, he smiled broadly and said, “Wild Side Wednesday, ma’am. Trust me, you can’t hear it from the residence side of the resort.”
Mom’s “hmm” made it clear she was not convinced.
“So, this is Scott’s buddy’s place?” Dad was already impressed. “I was imagining something else. Maybe a seaside Holiday Inn–type thing with a tiki bar.”
“No tiki bar, I’m afraid,” the attendant said, leading us toward the doors to reception. “Don’t worry about your bags, they’re going to take them straight to your villa.”
“Villa?” I mouthed to Dad, who looked even more impressed than before.
We were greeted with glasses of chilled champagne while we checked in—there was a whole process for wedding guests, which included goody bags—and someone arrived on an electric golf cart to whisk us off to our villa.
“I can still hear it,” Mom muttered, though the sound of the party was now far, far away.
“I bet Scott’s down there,” Dad said. “Sowing the last of his wild oats.”
“I think that phrase refers to creating illegitimate children, so I hope not,” I mused, wandering around the enormous great room of our villa.
The woman who’d driven us to our accommodations informed us that our luggage was already in our rooms. Mom and Dad were in the master suite on one end of the villa, I was in the bedroom on the other side, and in between were a full-sized kitchen, an enormous dining area, luxurious seating, and a television large enough to show frickin’ IMAX movies on.