Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
"You're pathetic," Eli says, not looking up from the lime he's cutting.
"I'm working."
"You're stalking. If I asked you for a hundred percent raise, you would have said yes."
"Did you?"
"No, but I should have, and that's beside the point."
"Hey there, beautiful."
I look up to see some asshole in board shorts and Ray-Bans approaching her table. The kind of guy who wears sunglasses indoors and has probably never been on a board in his life. Probably named Chad or Brad or Kyle. Here on Daddy's money.
She looks up at him with a polite smile, but as I said, I've seen enough solo female tourists to know when someone doesn't want company. So many of them come to the island to relax and unwind, and these dude bros see that as an invitation.
Shore Thing—my bar slash restaurant—is a safe place. I repeat that to my staff and enforce it as much as I can. Women can come here, and they know they're safe. Anyone here, including me, is willing to jump in to help any time.
Her shoulders draw up, the smile she gives him switching from genuine to wary. She angles herself away from him, creating space.
Anyone with two eyes and half a brain can realize she doesn't want to chat with him.
But Chad or Brad or Kyle doesn't have half a brain. Instead of moving away and cutting his losses, he leans closer, closing that space right back up.
"You here alone? Mind if I join you?"
"Actually, I'm—"
"Come on, don't be like that. I'm harmless."
I'm not the only one watching. Security, Eli, and other staff swing their gazes to her.
The moment he drapes an arm over the back of her chair, I approach them, trying to look calm even though I'm raging on the inside. I am a civilized man, and I do not condone violence, but in this moment, I just want to smash my fist into that smug face of his.
The walk feels longer than it is, but I keep my pace easy. Casual. No rush. When you're 6'5", you don't have to hurry to make an impression. Chad or Brad or Kyle is at least a few inches shorter than me.
"Hey, man." I stop beside his table, close enough that he has to look up. "You're bothering my girl."
My first impression that Chad or Brad or Kyle doesn't have half a brain is confirmed when the space between his eyebrows scrunches. He darts his eyes to her, then to me, then back to her. "You're with her?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't call her my girl if I wasn't. Would I?"
His eyebrows almost reach his hairline as he nods slowly. With one more longing glance at her, he shrugs. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't know she was taken."
He's gone in ten seconds.
She watches him leave before lifting a brow at me, the side of her mouth lifting. "Your girl?"
"Seemed like the fastest way to get him to leave."
She tilts her head, that smirk widening into a smile. "What if I'd wanted him to stay?"
"Did you?"
"God, no. I see enough of those types where I'm from."
I pull out the chair across from her. "Mind if I sit? Since I'm apparently your boyfriend now. But if you say no, it's fine."
She gestures to the chair. "Please. I should probably know your name if we're dating."
"Logan." I settle into the chair, and up close, she's even more dangerous. Those freckles are everywhere—scattered across her nose, her cheekbones, trailing down her neck, and her lips look so pillowy soft. "Logan Collins. I own this place."
"Hannah Hewitt. I'm renting a house up the beach for the week."
Hannah extends a hand to me, and I take it because it's the polite thing to do. What's not polite is the rush of blood down south. I dig my heels into the floor because I'm wearing shorts, and the moment I stand, everyone within twenty feet will see my erection. "Vacation?"
"More like emergency escape from my job before I set something on fire."
"What kind of job makes you want to commit arson?"
"Accounting." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Spreadsheets, fluorescent lights, and the same beige walls for the past five years. I booked this trip after staring at a pivot table for three hours and realizing I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited about anything."
"Pivot tables will do that to you."
She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know what a pivot table is?"
"I own a business. I've been tortured by spreadsheets, too."
"But you escaped."
"Built my own prison instead. Better view, though."
Hannah glances around the bar, taking in the bamboo railings, curtains of bead strings by the kitchen, and boats past the shoreline. "Not much of a prison."
"The island knows me now. I can't get away with anything. Delilah from the grocery store still tells me to eat more vegetables, like I'm twelve. The mechanic's kid heard me curse after stubbing my toe, and the next thing I knew, he gave me a lecture about knowing how to regulate my emotions."