“Blue is about intuition. Yellow is about happiness,” she murmurs.
“And green?” I whisper.
“Look it up on the internet,” she smiles.
“You’re a terrible tease, Isla Fairfax,” I groan as I pull a strand of beach grass from her hair.
“Chemistry isnotoverrated, Jackson Porter.”
“Move your shirt,” I demand.
“What for?” she asks.
“Lupercalia,” I tap the folded strand of beach grass against her cleavage. “Much more eco-friendly than the goat leather.”
“You’re crazy,” Isla shakes her head at me.
“And you’re beautiful,” I say. I want to kiss her. I want to stay here all day. I want to forget about everything else.
“What I am is starving,” Isla places her hands on my shoulders and rises to a standing position.
“Me, too. But not for breakfast,” I admit.
“No, but it’ll have to suffice for now,” she holds out a hand to help me up. “We have a show to do.”
* * *
“How doyou think the dates will go today?” I ask on the way back to the resort.
“I feel great about Ryker and Lacey,” Isla says.
“That’s cocky,” I say.
“You don’t even know what we planned for them,” she pouts. “Have a little faith!”
“I know how incompatible they are,” I shrug.
“Yeah, but they havechemistry,” Isla playfully pokes me in the ribs. “Have you learned nothing this morning?”
“I think their chemistry is too explosive, and it may be all they’ve got. You don’t make a cart move forward by lighting a stick of dynamite behind it.”
“We’ll see,” Isla shrugs. “I have a good feeling about all the dates.”
“Is that a premonition kind of feeling?” I ask.
“Not specifically,” Isla frowns, considering. “I just have a strong sense that everything’s going to work out for the best.”
The buffet is in full swing as we get there, with a decadent spread of pancakes, waffles, fresh pastries, a juice bar, and an omelet station. My stomach rumbles. I could get used to resort living.
Isla waves cheerily to Marco who is already seated at a table. The excitement on his face as he stands and gestures to the chair for her makes my stomach churn. Eels again.
We stop at the coffee bar where Isla grabs two mugs and fills them with coffee. I grab her some creamer.
“I think I need to sit and drink this coffee before we grab our food,” she says, pointing to the table where Marco is waiting. She sets the coffee down, and he stands to embrace her and smacks wet kisses on both of her cheeks. I imagine his head turning into the head of an ass. It helps. A little. I dump the creamers and lug over a chair for myself.
“Have you gentlemen thought about what you will sing at karaoke tonight?” Isla asks.
“I wasn’t planning on singing tonight,” I say. I’m not interested in the attention. I don’t like showing off. I take a swig of the coffee. “How about you?”
