Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Believe me, it’ll be pure hell for me, too, trying to forget. Consider it a blessing we won’t see each other again. It’s been a lovely day, Miss Renee. Let’s not taint it with anything you’ll regret.”
We both turn to the sky again.
My hand finds hers.
We watch Jupiter, the moon, and the stars dancing around them for a few more minutes in blazing silence until she laughs.
“What?” I ask tensely, turning to look at her.
“Who would have thought? The naked intruder is a gentleman after all!”
Hardly.
If she could only read my mind, she’d know she’s barely escaping wearing my mark from the inside out.
Instead, I just shrug and turn back to the silver night.
“I’ve been called worse, Miss Renee. You need to up your insult game.”
5
Reservation For Disaster (Piper)
Two Months Later
Two months.
Two freaking months and I still have days where I’m trying to forget Lanai and Brock and the kiss that left my toes curled long after I came back home.
It’s like some magic from that not date rubbed off after all.
That trip brought in streams of new followers and videos garnering millions of views.
Jenn and Maisy think my high-quality, exclusive videos were what got things rolling, but I know the real truth.
That bruising kiss with Grumpmuffin opened up the entire universe. But it’s been two months and I wish I could forget sometimes.
I’ve tried to find him on social media, but the man is a ghost.
I don’t even know his last name. He also made it abundantly clear he doesn’t care to see me again.
And honestly, he’s right.
We shared a magical night in a majestic place. Nothing more.
I should just get over it.
But as I try to sip my fuchsia-colored chipotle chai latte from Sweeter Grind, it’s hard.
Lanai was also the last place I was able to squeeze in. Ever since I came home, I haven’t been able to shoot anything besides local stuff within an hour or two of Seattle.
Don’t get me wrong.
This is an awesome place, so there’s always plenty of local stuff.
It could be worse.
But slower content means watching my already meager ad revenue crashing. So I keep applying for side jobs in online content just to keep my money up, and so far, no dice.
It takes a toll on a girl’s motivation.
Jenn keeps hounding me about this marketing opportunity at Winthrope.
As if that wouldn’t just extend the free rent Mr. Tall, Growly, and Dangerously-Good-At-Kissing already enjoys in my head. And if I took her up on the crazy offer and we somehow collided without him wanting it—
Yeah.
No.
Not happening.
I sip my chai again, trying to ground myself in the moment. I love this drink.
Someday, I’ll make it to exotic places like India. Their chai must be mind-blowing, but even if I could magically fund that trip, it’s too far from home.
I wouldn’t get back fast enough if anything comes up.
Sigh.
Just to indulge my fantasies, I’m searching 'American content creators for India' when my phone rings.
Annoying. I thought I turned it off.
But Maisy’s name flashes across the screen as I hold it up.
Weird. She makes a point not to disturb me when I’m working, unless—
I swipe the green bar.
“Hello?”
The way she dry heaves into the phone turns my blood cold.
I know it’s bad news before she says a single word.
“Maisy, are you—what’s wrong, honey?”
My sister takes a deep, rattling breath.
I use the precious second to shove my laptop in my bag in case I need to bug out now.
“P-Pippa, can you—can you—c-come—”
Oh, God. I’m going to have a heart attack before she gets it out.
“Maisy, calm down. Deep breath. Hold it for a second, and then tell me what’s wrong.” I’m on my feet, darting out the door and heading for my car.
It’s a crapbox Dad helped me buy from the salvage yard, so the damn door chooses now to stick. I fight to pry it open like I’m struggling with an undercooked crab shell.
“Come to the hospital!” she manages.
Shit.
“Okay. Seattle Memorial?” I jostle the door until it pops open and practically flings me on the ground.
“Y-yeah. The—” She sobs. “The one we always go to.”
Seattle Memorial it is.
I’m still petrified to ask why.
“On my way, just sit tight.” I suck a cutting breath. “Is it you or Dad?”
“Dad. H-he was so pale. Pippa, he’s—” Her voice cracks with pain again. “I don’t think he’s okay.”
“I’m coming,” I say softly around the hardening lump in my throat. “Maisy, I need you to wait for me. Grab some water or eat ice chips from the machine until I can get there, okay? It won’t be long.”
I know the hospital ice is a comfort she liked when she was a little girl.
Ever since Dad’s health started flagging and we had to take care of him.
God, I hope he’s okay.
I’m suddenly grateful for the lack of side gigs and travel prospects.