Page 16

Is this what a crab feels like? A sea lion? A tapeworm?

“Is this worse than the time we revenge-crafted disco-ball glass on your mom’s car?”

“Er.” I scrunch my face into a wince.

“Is it worse than the time we dumped glitter in that frat house’s air vents?”

“Eh.” I stay noncommittal to the level of worse-ness.

“Worse than the time we went roller skating and we rigged the sound system to play Taylor Swift eighty-nine times in a row and locked everyone inside?”

“Amelia!” I glance over my shoulder. “I plead the Fifth.”

I circle a lava-rock wall and head for the beach, grunting and scurrying faster. Almost home free. Must make it past the next grouping of bushes and⁠—

“Well, this gives new meaning to the words, ‘Crawl to me,’” a man says with a chuckle.

Amelia and I halt when very handsome feet wearing black flip-flops block our escape route. A devil emoji is tattooed on the very tip of one big toe, staring back at me, taunting me.

My nostrils flare. I cannot believe this is happening.

In an instant, I’ve flipped the switch from retreat to shotgun showdown, and I’m packing a pink-studded jean jacket with fringe, cowgirl style. In my mind, at least. But first, I need to assess what I’m dealing with.

From underneath the brim of my hat and behind sunglasses, my gaze travels up a pair of defined legs to black-and-gray color-block swim trunks. Farther up, I discover no T-shirt.

Perfect burpee-cut abs gleam in the sunlight, like Gio greased himself in cooking oil. Intricate black tattoos adorn his arm.

The sight of his blinding beauty stuns me for a moment, but then I remind myself I hate him. That truth hits home when I discover the wolfish grin plastered on his face.

6/

giovanni

Pretty Murder Shoes

After giving up on someone answering the door at the bungalow, I head for the beach. I’m late for a meeting with Matt. But when I circle a low rock wall, I stop in my tracks when I find two women crawling across the sand.

“Well, this gives new meaning to the words, ‘Crawl to me.’” I chuckle.

They stop in their tracks like they’ve never heard a human speak.

“We were looking for, um . . .” The woman wearing the hat starts but never finishes. She stands and brushes off her soaked sand-covered dress.

I’m caught off guard by the perfect shape of her breasts revealed by the drenched fabric. I do my best not to stare, but I’m no saint.

“Found it!” the dark-haired woman yells. She holds up an earring and secures it to her earlobe.

“Great. Let’s go.” Hat-Lady snatches her friend’s arm.

I glance over my shoulder as the strange pair make a run for it, but then I have an idea.

“Wait!” I wave and catch up. “Maybe you can help me. Do you know the family staying in that bungalow?”

“No, just taking a beach stroll,” one says.

“Please.” I hold out my hands and block their escape. “It’ll just take a second. Did you notice anyone at that house when you walked, or uh, crawled past?” My lips tip up as I remember how I found them.

“No. You?” Hat-Lady glances at her friend.