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)
“Not exactly rent-by-the-hour, huh?” Mom teased Dad.
“There’s a firepit on the patio,” the woman informed us. “All you need to do is call me and I can get someone here building you a fire and making s’mores in no time. And there are soaking tubs on the private verandas off the bedrooms—”
“Okay, I gotta see this.” I headed into my bedroom, which was roughly the size of an entire hotel room on its own and flung open the arch-topped French doors. The private veranda faced the gently rolling sea, which would give me a great view from the generously sized, free-standing tub.
I was going to spend so much time drinking in that tub.
Perhaps the best part of the private veranda situation was the path that wound toward the water and intersected with a larger sidewalk that disappeared behind a hedge. We were tucked away with as much privacy as one could get at a resort, and I could easily get away from the villa without my parents noticing and asking questions.
I was going to spend so much time smoking weed in that tub.
I just had to get my hands on some. In Cali, I had no trouble finding it, but this was South Carolina. At a resort, it shouldn’t be that hard. I’d have to find my way to where employees hung out on breaks; having bounced between plenty of restaurant jobs, I knew there would be at least one person in the kitchen who was permanently baked and not in the culinary sense. Many times, that person had been me.
I went back inside and leaned out the bedroom door. “I think I’m going to go for a walk. Just to stretch my legs after the flight.”
“Be careful around the ponds and things,” Mom advised. “I hear alligators are like cockroaches down here.”
Dad, having given me the green light for mischief, now appeared to regret it. He opened his mouth, then closed it in a tight-lipped smile. “Be safe.”
“Absolutely. If an alligator invites me back to his pond, we’ll definitely use a condom,” I said, giving him a salute.
Mom made a noise of disgust at the juvenile sense of humor I’d inherited from my dad, and I closed the door so I could change out of my sweat-sodden travel clothes. Though I’m no stranger to heat, the humidity was unreal. Walking outside was like being slapped in the face with a hot, wet wool blanket. I needed far fewer clothes on.
In my thinnest tank top and shortest jean cutoffs, I made my way across the grass and down the sidewalk, past the hedge. All I had to do was find wherever the staff took their breaks, and I would find what I was looking for.
The path wound around a pond and over a bridge, and that’s where I hit my first challenge. There was a guy standing there, alone. Like he was waiting.
I wasn’t a scaredy-cat. But I did watch Dateline. I didn’t feel like being the star of an episode. I scanned the area to gauge how close other people might be.
Then the guy noticed me there and lifted his hand to wave me over. “Wanna see an alligator?”
I did, absolutely, want to see an alligator. But I didn’t want to get murdered. I weighed my options carefully. Curiosity won out.
I moved onto the bridge, but not too close to the guy. I could see him better now, in the light of the faux gas lamps. It only took me a second to place him. “You’re Matthew Ashe.”
We may never have met before, but I’d seen him in my brother’s photos on Facebook. And the pictures had not done Matthew Ashe justice. He was so good-looking, I took personal offense. His chestnut-brown hair was a tiny bit too long, curling under the edge of his Detroit Tigers baseball cap. His broad shoulders filled out his T-shirt like it was an expensive suit, and he had a serious case of Superman jaw.
The water beneath the wooden bridge lashed. I jumped back with a yelp and Matthew reflexively grabbed my arm. “It’s the gator,” he said with a deep, warm laugh.
“Yeah, the gator.” I peered over the edge of the bridge, partially because I was curious, partially because I needed a second to look away from the handsomeness happening. He wasn’t just physically hot. His presence was heart-stopping.
“And you are?” he asked.
It took me a second to remember that I’d called him by name. “Oh. Charlotte. I’m Scott’s sister.”
Matthew’s eyes widened. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Your brother talks about you all the time.”
The gator hiding beneath the bridge hissed.
“I don’t think he’ll come up here,” Matthew reassured me confidently. “What brings you out in the middle of the night?”
Since it was Scott’s best friend, I figured I could be honest. Also, if he owned the place, he probably knew where to find what I needed.