Page 26 of Twisted Beauty

She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard a word anyone had said. Talk about embarrassing. “Um, did I miss something?”

“Nate asked what you had planned for the rest of your trip. I think he wants to make sure you have a really good time.” Katie waggled her eyebrows. “He’s quite the tour guide, you know.”

Liv cringed. Internally, she hoped. She didn’t want to be rude, but how was she supposed to react to this? Did Katie really have to make everything so spectacularly awkward?

Nate must have seen something in her face, because he smiled and shook his head. “I’d be chuffed to show you around, but I meant no such thing. It was an innocent question.”

Liv let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yeah, well, that’s Katie for you.”

“Hey,” Katie said with a frown.

“So I heard you went to that new bar on Basilio Badillo last weekend,” Jana said to the guys in an abrupt change of subject. “What did you think of it?” She glanced over at Liv briefly, as if to say, You’re welcome.

“You mean the gay bar? Los Amigos?” Garrett asked. “A little crowded, but the band was fantastic.”

“Great new venue,” Nate said.

And just like that, the conversation veered out of awkward and back into a nice, relaxing hum. Thank you, Jana. Liv was really starting to like her.

Still, she needed to find a way to put a stop to all of Katie’s scheming, or this would be one very long trip.

7

Liv

Finally, some time to herself. No surprise lunches, no setups, nothing to stop her from spending her morning exactly as she wanted.

In a stroke of luck, Katie had gotten a call last night from a frantic bride. The woman’s wedding planner had up and quit—just two weeks before her big day—leaving everything a huge mess. Okay, maybe not so lucky for the bride. But she’d called to beg Katie to step in, and for a ridiculous sum of money too.

They were meeting for breakfast at some fancy hotel and it was likely to take hours. Which meant Liv was on her own. She almost squealed when she found out, but managed to keep silent about how happy she was.

After a quick cup of coffee, Liv grabbed her camera, wished Katie luck, and bolted out the door.

She wandered down the hill from Katie’s condo, breathed in the crisp morning air, and smiled. It wasn’t nearly as hot and humid as the day before, and the ocean was a serene, pale blue. A long line of pelicans skimmed the water just offshore, grazing the waves with their bellies as they flew. She watched them rise high into the air, one after the other, and then plummet into the sea in a perfectly choreographed dance.

Raising the viewfinder to her eye, Liv focused on the water and lost herself trying to capture that moment in time, where each beak touched the water, somehow knowing just the right second to catch its prey.

This was what she’d been missing.

For years, she’d been stuck behind the lens of a video camera, her whole focus that arrogant ass she’d planned to marry. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed the feel of a still camera in her hand, the click of the shutter, the control she had over the world around her when she saw it through her lens. And she loved, loved, loved preserving these little snippets of life that told a story you’d otherwise forget. There was something so magical about that.

The flock regrouped and headed south in a perfect V formation, so she slipped her camera back into her bag and carried on down the street.

After walking several blocks, she realized she hadn’t seen a single taxi. Although a number of rickety, rattling buses had passed by. Maybe it was time to ride one. Live like a local for a day.

She noticed a small crowd of people seated on a curb at the far end of the block. With any luck, it was a bus stop.

As she walked toward them, the rumble of an engine behind her made her jump. A blue and white bus, covered in dents and chipped paint, pulled up to the curb where they waited. Liv broke into a jog. Luckily, she made it while they were still boarding. Following the lineup onto the bus, she reached into her bag for change.

“Quanto cuesta?” she asked the driver.

“Seven pesos,” he answered in English.

She’d barely handed him the coins when he shut the doors behind her and shifted into gear.

She stared down the aisle for a split second before her feet registered the need to move. The bus was crowded and run-down, with torn seats and windows stuck open at haphazard angles. But most of the passengers were well dressed and had an air of sophistication she rarely saw in the beachier parts of LA. Apparently her own cutoff jean shorts and spaghetti-strap top were the equivalent of a neon sign on her forehead flashing tourist. Nothing she could do about that now.

Liv found an open seat just as the bus lurched forward and hurled her into it. She’d have landed on her ass in the aisle if she’d tried to go even one row farther. The woman seated beside her didn’t stir. Her eyes were closed and her head rested against a window that rattled with vibrations.