Love Off Course Read Online K. Webster

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
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“But, Daddy⁠—”

“You’re a Reid girl,” he reminds me in his conference room tone that makes men sign on dotted lines. “Don’t you forget that.”

I swallow down the emotion and swipe at my tears. “So I’m just stuck here?”

“Like your momma used to always say, ‘When life throws you lemons, throw them back, grab some limes, and make marga⁠—’”

“I have to go, Daddy. I’ll call you when I can. Love you.”

Click.

It was unfair. I should have let him finish. Let him talk about Momma. God, I am such a bitch. Maybe he deserves to have a little break from me. Truth is, I haven’t left his side since the moment I was forced to leave Momma’s.

“Everything okay, Sherrie-dan?”

Estefania hovers nearby, looking like a beach babe in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her makeup has been redone and her hair has been styled. She’s so pretty and put together.

“I could go for a drink,” I grit out. “What about you? Want to, uh, look for coffee?” Coffee. Chardonnay. Whatever we find first.

She claps her hands, her orange nails catching my attention and reminding me we’re freaking twins. “This is the best day of my life!”

I stare at her in horror.

How could this be anyone’s best day?

It’s turning out to be one of my worst.

Chapter 6

Camilo

Carson struts out of the bathroom wearing a borrowed pair of my board shorts, grinning my way. “I was thinking⁠—”

“Oh, here we go,” I groan as I change into a pair of swim trunks. “This is never a good thing.”

“It’s always a good thing,” he argues. “Maybe you ought to ask her out.”

I glower at him. “No.”

“There’s chemistry, man. You’re like some Latin lover boy, right? Woo the gringa.”

“Dude.” I snort and shake my head. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m brilliant, CZ. She’s angry because she needs a hot little Mexican boy in bright yellow trunks to lure her into his bed.”

“See, when you say it like that, it sounds creepy.”

He starts to dance—over the top, I might add—pulling out some moves Patrick Swayze would be proud of. “Baby, oh, baby…” He waves me to him, winking.

“How are you even married? Did Krissy just feel sorry for you? Took one for the team of womankind?”

“Besides being a hunk⁠—”

“Don’t say hunk. You sound like the old fuckers you hang out with.”

“I’m excellent at eating puss⁠—”

“La la la. I can’t hear you.” I pretend to cover my ears so I don’t have to hear him describe in detail how he pleasures his wife.

“And I fuck like a stallion⁠—”

“Stop, Carson, just stop.”

He makes an exaggerated show of grabbing my dresser and thrusting his hips toward it while waggling his brows at me. “Just like this.”

I crack up laughing and shove him. “Let’s go. I can’t take any more of this torture. We have work to do anyway.”

We throw on some tennis shoes and head outside of my villa. Since the place is now booked up, he’s rooming with me. As soon as I hear Elton on the record player playing nearby, I smile. All the stress of the last few months fades away. Truth is, I missed home. I missed the chaos and the love and the food. My crazy ass family and friends. As much as I love soaring above the clouds, I’ve always been tethered here. Everyone needs a home base and this hotel is mine.

My abuela is sitting outside the little villa she uses for her home and a spa. One of my cousins must have already boarded her windows for the storm. She sits in a flower-print muumuu, a giant pot of clay between her legs, and is singing along to Elton as she works her clay.

“Abuela,” Carson greets as he strides up to my grandmother to give her wrinkly cheek a kiss. “Did you miss me?”

My abuela doesn’t speak English, but she understands Carson. Hell, I think anyone over the age of sixty does. He speaks their geriatric language. She smiles at him, revealing her gums, and I shake my head. Her dentures are around here somewhere. I used to terrorize my younger cousins when we’d find them lying about all over the hotel and chase them as I pretended to chomp them with her fake teeth.

“¿Preparando una caldo?” I ask as I bend to kiss her. Making a pot?

She shakes her head and squeezes the soft clay in her arthritic-ridden hands. “Para la cara, niño.” For the face, child.

“¿Donde está Mamá?” Where is Mamá?

She points toward the front office. My mother is barking out orders to my cousins Mateo and Nicolás. They’re both giant, sulking young men who tower over her, but they obey her because she’s the ruler of this roost. While the guys start hammering up boards, I sneak up on my mother. When I bear hug her from behind, she squawks at me. I have her arms pinned so she can’t swat at me. I spin her around until she stops yelling and gives in to laughter. Finally, I set her to her feet and kiss the top of her head.


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