Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Did you miss me today? I could lie and tell you I never thought of you once . . . ,” she teases.
“Should I admit how nervous I’ve been?”
“Yes, tell me everything so I feel better. I could barely function all day because of you.”
My gaze roves over her face, her flushed cheeks, her tentative expression.
On impulse, I bend down and kiss her, opting for a Show, don’t tell approach.
Surely she understands now, as I tilt my head and deepen our kiss. We could make out here until my knees buckle, but we have an objective: dinner.
When I pull away, Paige looks dazed, like I’ve just shot her in the thigh with a mild tranquilizer.
“Are you hungry?”
“If I say no, can we just keep kissing?”
I smile and give her one more quick peck. “No.”
She looks put out as she shakes her head. “Fine. Yes, I could eat. Also, I’ve been dying to see where you live. I told Camila and Lara about it, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” I take her hand, and we start down the path away from staff housing.
“Yeah . . . at lunch, they kind of pestered me for details about us.”
“What’d you tell them?”
She looks up at me shyly, like she’s a little hesitant to admit the truth. “All of it. You know . . . that we’re a couple now. I mean, we are a couple, yes?” She starts talking faster. “You said that this morning so I was just repeating what you said—”
I can’t help but smile. “Yes. We are.”
The tension between her eyebrows eases, and her shoulders relax.
“They wanted every detail, but I just said we’re taking things slow.”
“Are we?”
Her eyes widen in horror. “God, I hope not. In fact, should we stop right here?” she asks, indicating a palm tree just off the path. “It’s secluded enough.”
I laugh. It’s tempting . . .
I reluctantly tug us along. “Come on, I’m going to feed you first.”
She groans. “Who can think about food at a time like this?!”
We round a bend in the path and continue on. It’s not far now.
We’re reaching the west end of the property. Out here, the forest grows dense as the path narrows. We brush past overgrown palms and elephant ears, plumerias and ferns. There are only two houses this way because most of the executives live on the east side of the resort’s property. The houses there sit on a cliffside, which affords them slightly better views. I like it over here, though: it’s more secluded, and I can walk right out onto the beach from my back porch. It’s my own little slice of paradise.
We pass a cut-through road that leads to my neighbor’s house. Marcus, the head chef at the Bistro, lives there with his wife. She keeps a garden, and when she harvests tomatoes and squash and peppers, she usually leaves some out for me on my porch.
Past their house, farther on, the path dead-ends in front of my house.
Here, the forest has been cleared a bit to allow for a small front lawn. I keep meaning to do something with it, but I haven’t found the time.
I pause and turn to see Paige take it in.
The house itself is nothing to write home about. It’s a white one-story bungalow with a screened-in front porch. It’s weatherworn in some areas, but I repainted it myself last year, and that helped a lot. Still, it’s not even half as nice as the houses where the other executives live. Todd’s is a monstrosity.
My surfboard and kayak are tied to a small shed to the right. I didn’t know how high the floodwaters would get this past week, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
You can hear the waves splashing onto the shore behind the house. Most of the rooms have a view of the ocean, though the kitchen and main bedroom have the best vantage points.
I’m waiting for Paige to say something, but she’s taking everything in with a detective’s concentration.
“No one was living here before I moved in. I put a lot of work into it a few years ago. The inside is nicer—”
“I love it.”
I can tell by her tone that she’s being serious. I squeeze her hand and start to walk us up the well-worn path in the sandy grass.
“Did you get any flooding this week?” she asks.
“No. Fortunately. The house is built up enough that I was spared. But I lost power, so unfortunately, I had to toss out everything that was in my fridge. We’ll see what we can cobble together. I thought I’d have time to go to the grocery store at some point . . .”
“We’ll make do,” Paige says with a reassuring smile.
We head up the stairs, and I pull open the screen door, wincing as the hinges squeal.