Troy told me to lay low while I’m suspended, and I need to keep out of the headlines, sail through these forty games, and get back on the field where I belong.
In bed with Millie isnotwhere I belong.
I wait for her to leave before turning to the clerk behind the desk.
“How can I help you today, sir?” she asks.
“I’m looking to book an excursion. I’d like to learn more about the history of the island.” There, history. Perfect alternative to snorkeling.
It’s fine. I have a month here. I’ll find time to snorkel.
“We have several tours to choose from. One of our most popular is the Queen’s Staircase. Gorgeous views, and you’ll hear stories from the guide about the island, local history, and pirate lore.”
“Pirates?” I repeat. “Sold.” Pirates are fucking awesome.
“Wonderful. The next one leaves in…” She checks her watch. “Twenty minutes from the Coast Tower main lobby, or I can book you in for nine, eleven, or one tomorrow.”
“The one today would be great.”
She taps some keys on her keyboard, asks for my room number, and that’s that. I’m all booked.
“The bus will have a bottle of water for you, so all you need are walking shoes, sunscreen, and extra cash or a card for souvenir purchases.”
“Thanks.” I nod, and then I head toward the Coast Tower so I can find the guide and board the bus for my fucking awesome pirate excursion.
But when I get to the lobby, there stands fucking Millie.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“Oh, Christ,” she mutters. “Queen’s Staircase?”
“Of course. I thought you chose snorkeling.”
“No, I toldyouto choose snorkeling so I wouldn’t have to run into you on this one,” she says.
“Right.” I blow out a breath.
Of all the goddamn excursions either of us could have chosen, and there were upwards of thirty, we ended up picking the same one. What are the chances?
One of the guides says, “If you’re gathering for the Queen’s Staircase, come on over.”
A group of maybe fifteen or so people gathers nearby, including both Millie and me. We don’t even have time to back out of this.
“Welcome, welcome,” she says. “I’m Patrice, and I’ll be your guide today along with Ricardo, our bus driver.” She nods to the front, where I spot a minibus outside waiting for us.
It doesn’t look big enough for all the people gathered here, but we follow Patrice outside to the van after she checks each of us in. I’m toward the back of the line, and Millie is a few people in front of me. Perfect. It’ll give other people the chance to snag the seat next to her.
Yeah…it doesn’t work out that way. There are two open seats when I board, and I’m about to slide into the one thatisn’tnext to Millie when the bus driver turns to me. “Sorry, that one’s saved for Patrice.”
Right.
My eyes meet Millie’s, and she’s next to the window. She frowns at the same time I do, but I take the seat beside her anyway. I don’t have a choice.
Patrice points out various highlights of the island as we drive toward the staircase, and I’m doing my best to ignore the sweet scent of flowers as well as not doing thatwhole man-spreading thing with my legs since I don’t want to accidentally bump into her legs, which I can’t seem to take my eyes off of. I keep thinking about how every time we fucked, it was not with her legs wrapped around me. And that seems somehow…wrong.
Fucking hell, I want it again.
But I can’t. It’s too big of a risk, and not just because I’m supposed to be laying low, and I don’t want to be the reason she goes viral.
