Page 136 of Revv

I grin. “It is a pretty good view.”

Her eyes narrow.

“What?” I gesture toward the room. “Cheap motel, beach two blocks away, one bed, hot woman trapped here with me for another couple days. I’m making the best of a difficult situation.”

“Ay, pobrecito. Your suffering is inspirational.”

“Thank you. I’ve really been trying to be brave about it.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the laptop.

I settle deeper into the pillows, still grinning, and grab my phone.

Miami can keep the Honda another day.

I scroll without really paying attention, bouncing between messages and whatever bullshit the algorithm throws at me, until an ad for jet ski rentals pops up.

I stop.

Well, fuck.

That could work.

Cece loves jet skis. Back home in Tampa, she’s never the one sitting on shore while everyone else is out on the water. The second she gets comfortable, she goes from cautious to completely fucking fearless, which is exactly what she needs right now.

Less staring at emails and thinking about shit she can’t fix.

More sun, speed, and water.

I click the rental page and check availability.

Two machines.

Obviously.

No chance in hell she’s riding behind me once she realizes she can have her own, and honestly, watching her talk shit while trying to outrun me sounds way better anyway.

Then there’s the bikini.

That part is purely for me.

I glance over at her sitting at the desk, still focused on the laptop, and picture her in one of those tiny black bikinis she keeps wearing around the crew.

Yeah.

This is a fucking excellent plan.

I book two before she can somehow sense me spending money and start asking questions, lock my phone, and toss it onto the bed.

Cece checks her phone again.

Okay.

Enough.

I sit up and reach for the shorts I tossed over the chair last night, pulling them on before grabbing my shirt.

“Get dressed.”