Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
His normally exasperated assistant is in line, smiling at Estefania. He seems like a nice kid, so I’ll allow it. But if he looks at her wrong, I’ll go give that boy the what for.
“You’re hissing,” Damian says. “Is it because the lioness in heat is stalking our sexy Mexi in the buffet line?”
It takes me a second to decode all his confusing lingo.
Then, I zero in on the girl from before. She has her palm on Camilo’s back, turning her head up to talk to him. I don’t like the way she looks at him, which is stupid considering I have no claim on him. I don’t even like him.
Definitely don’t like him.
“If Kyle messes with Estefania, I’ll make him regret the day he ever met me.” I smile sweetly at Damian.
Rather than being shocked, he cackles. “Perhaps you’re a Decepticon.”
“A what?”
“Villain, honey. You’ve got villain eyes.”
At least the villains have cool cars.
Chapter 8
Camilo
Imanage to avoid Ramona through dinner. I’d been oddly thankful for Damian rescuing me from her, even if he did make me dance and rubbed his spandex body on me. Still better than having to talk to Ramona. There’s nothing particularly wrong with the girl, but there’s nothing right, either. She’s a local who sometimes helps out at the hotel during our busy seasons.
A local I’ve taken to bed a few times while in town.
The last time, she got clingy and I decided to cut ties. Mediocre sex isn’t worth having some girl obsess over you and start hinting at shit like a relationship. I don’t have time for relationships. I fuck and fly. The end.
I’d love nothing more than to take Sheridan to bed with me, though. She puts up this hard-ass front, but I bet I could get her to melt under my touch. I’d wipe that sour look off her face while I licked the sweetness between her thighs…
“Rodrigo has been upgraded to a category two hurricane,” Carson says, gripping my shoulder and ending my fantasy.
He motions for Eduardo’s office just beyond the kitchen. Now that everyone’s eaten and resumed drinking, I slip away with Carson. Mamá sits at Eduardo’s desk, her brows furrowed as we listen to the man on the radio warn of the winds that could reach up to one-hundred-ten miles per hour.
“When?” I ask, coming to stand behind Mamá.
“Tomorrow night.” She looks up at me and frowns. “Will it get worse?”
I hope not.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I assure her.
“What’s happening? What is he saying?” Sheridan asks from the doorway. “Answer me, dammit.”
Her brown hair has been swept over one shoulder now that I’ve stolen the hair tie. It exposes the long, delicious column of her neck. I’d love to run my tongue along her skin to see if she tastes salty like her fucking attitude.
Before Carson can open his mouth to play peacemaker, I push past him over to her. She’s slightly swaying, which is no wonder with all the tequila she’s been sucking down.
“Looks like a category two hurricane now.” I resist the urge to kiss her supple lips. “Don’t worry—”
“Don’t worry?” she hisses, her face turning red with sudden anger. “You kept me from going to my destination only to trap me in this shithole and now we’re all going to die!”
I wince at the shithole comment, knowing it’ll upset Mamá. This place is her baby. Her life’s work. To have someone speak so lowly of it to her is aggravating.
“We’re not going to die,” Carson placates.
“It’s not a shithole.” My fiery glare burns into her. “You should apologize.”
Her lip curls up. “I won’t ever apologize for telling the truth.” She shoves at me, but it only ends up making her bounce back because I’m unmovable. “You’re an asshole kidnapper and now you can add murderer to the list!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Carson groans.
“Get this woman back to her room, mijo,” Mamá snaps. “She’s drunk and disorderly. She’ll upset the other guests.”
Forgot to mention, I’m conveniently security, too.
“I can take her back,” Carson offers, trying to dismantle the bomb that’s about to go off in three, two, one—
“Excuse me!” Sheridan screeches. “I am not drunk! I am not disorderly! I will stay right here and listen to the radio!”
“Enough, little bee. You don’t even know Spanish, so you can’t understand a word of what he’s saying anyway.”
She continues to argue, but Mamá is pissed and I need to get her out of here. I sigh before grabbing her and hoisting her over my shoulder, which is beginning to feel like a pattern for us. She kicks and screams for me to put her down. Rather than upset the guests, I take her down the back hallway and out the door. It’s raining now, hard and promising worse weather headed our way.
It’s a short walk back to her room, but we manage to get soaked to the bone. I’m wearing my trunks, so it’s not a big deal. The door is unlocked and we step inside. One half of the room is neat and orderly while the other side has Estefania’s belongings strewn everywhere. I take Sheridan to her clean side of the room and set her to her feet.