Page 58 of Roaming Holiday

“That’s my job.”

She groans. Not in the adorable way Nina does—as if she’s determined to make us see eye to eye. Maia groans as if my incompetence is a burden. Which I can respect.

“Then be a human,” she says. “Ask her if she’s okay. Tell me if she’s getting more depressed.”

“What—like a friend or colleague?”

She rolls her eyes and throws her hands in the air. “Whatever you want to call it.” She pushes off the doorframe and mutters, “I have no idea why she likes you much.”

My stomach flips, and I resist asking her to confirm that before she walks off.

Nina sleeps for the rest of the evening, and I check in with Jack about the security footage around the property. The house is in a cramped neighborhood, but all windows are one-way.

Vanessa’s and Jace’s bodyguards will reside two houses down for the duration of the trip. Mason and I would have been there as well if not for the sisters wanting us closer. Nina and Maia have been charming since day one; asking if we’re hungry or thirsty, noting that it’s been eight hours since either of us used the restroom. In spite of Nina being largely silent and Maia being endlessly witty, they’re quick to build relationships with others, making whoever they meet feel important.

It didn’t take long for the Laffley sisters to charm Mason and me; it just so happens that I’m falling completely in love with one of them. It’s difficult to comprehend that Nina might have feelings for me, too. She’s friendly toward everyone, but the growing possibility sends apprehension through my body because I know I won’t resist her. I don’t resent myself enough to deny her on the basis that she deserves better. She does—and I’ll be that person because she makes me believe I can be.

Jack would be furious, but even the thought of fucking Nina in every way I imagined is worth it.

29

NINA

Yesterday morning, I woke up wanting Wesley near me.

Today, I avoid him.

I’m surprised at how frustrated and almost agitated I am with him. I have no right to be upset that he flirted with a baker yesterday, but the lingering sense of betrayal still scratches me raw. Perhaps it was the stinging realization that he’s just my bodyguard, not my friend and definitely not my boyfriend. He keeps me safe and fends off overstepping men. Why would he socialize with me or my family? It makes more sense that he would chat up a cute baker.

Maia and I want to spend the day at the house, and Vanessa happily agrees. It’s relaxing whenever Roman isn’t trying to blast music or doing cannonballs into the pool. Around noon, someone walks through the back gate with a package for Vanessa. She passes it right to me.

“What’s this?”

She blushes and gestures to her midriff. “I, um, it gets hot in that swimsuit, no?”

I glance down at my black one-piece. “Yeah, but it’s the only one I brought.”

“I asked Greta to pick out a few. She used your measurements, so they should fit. They are for you to keep.”

Maia pouts in awe. “That’s so stinkin’ cute and thoughtful.”

I lean across the lounge chair to hug Vanessa, holding back tears at the idea of being considered and cared for. Anyone going out of their way for me never fails to make me emotional.

“Gracea mucho,” I whisper. “This means a lot.”

I slip upstairs to change. In the elegantly wrapped box are three triangle bikinis, one pink with flowers, one solid blue, and one crocheted red. I select the pink one and tie on the top piece, instantly feeling more confident from the way it accentuates my boobs. But when I slide on the bottoms, I have to resist putting my one-piece back on. It’s low on my hips, making my bone structure look wider. If only they were high-waisted. Tall girls are supposed to be dainty; I could knock someone out with my hips.

I blink back tears again. Stop. This was a gift, and I’ll look like an asshole if I don’t wear it. But as soon as I return to the backyard, Maia whistles.

“Goddamn, Neen!” she screeches. “Titties and ass, hello!”

I clamp my arms over my chest. “Ugh, please stop.”

Vanessa laughs. “It looks good!”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous of your ass,” Maia says.

I scoff as I lower onto my lounge chair. “No, you’re not.”

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