Page 43 of Covetous

The ocean breeze carries the sound of crashing waves and seagulls overhead. “I never realize how oppressive Houston summers are until I visit a place like this,” I say as I fish for the keys in my purse that Ian gave me a few days ago.

“Tell me about it,” Esme says, peeking through one of the porch windows.

I unlock the door with a satisfying click and disarm the alarm. Liv and Esme waste no time scoping out our new digs. Meanwhile, Victor and Smith drag all our luggage inside, then head straight for the kitchen island, clearly more interested in the gift basket of snacks than the decor. “Someone left a note,” Victor mumbles between shoving cookies into his mouth. I make a grab for it, but Victor beats me to it. “Looks like it’s from your future mother-in-law.”

Smith interrupts our playful banter by proudly displaying two six-packs of beer he found in the fridge. “Beer!”

Taking advantage of Victor’s distraction, I snatch the note from his hand. I’m able to dodge him before he reaches for me—or the note, rather—but I accidentally bump into Liv, who catches me by the shoulders. “Sorry.” I grin sheepishly.

Liv laughs. “You good, girl?”

“I’m fine. Victor plays too much.” I stick my tongue out at him. His eyes narrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he tries to suppress a smile.

“One of the bedrooms upstairs has floor-to-ceiling windows. I call dibs.” Esme joins us in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Victor’s waist. I look away from them to the handwritten note from Anita Davenport that tells us to make ourselves at home. From the last time Ian and I stayed here, I know she keeps a stack of these handwritten notes around for the cleaning staff to leave out for guests.

“I’m pretty sure that’s going to be Skylar and Ian’s room,” Liv says.

“You would be right.” Snagging a beer from Smith, I take a sip of the ice-cold brew.

“Where are you sleeping, Liv?” he asks, popping the top on his beer.

“It doesn’t matter. The other two bedrooms are just as nice, just smaller.”

Esme reaches up on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around Victor’s neck. “I’m sure Liv will let you share her bed. It’s big enough.”

Smith arches one eyebrow, a hint of mischief in his eyes. Liv tilts her head back slightly, her eyes sweeping dramatically skyward before settling back on Smith with a barely concealed smirk.

“Not a chance,” she answers for them.

Liv immediately claims the bedroom across the hall from mine. It’s called the blue room because of its accents—deep navy curtains and a plush, ocean-inspired rug. Esme and Victor follow suit, taking the seafoam-green room next door to Liv’s. Both rooms are spacious, boasting fireplaces and small patios. My room, the largest in the house, lives up to Esme’s description. Soft sandy tones complement the sweeping ocean vista, while a large balcony extends the living space into the open air.

After settling into our rooms, we gather at the kitchen island for a round of cold beers and to discuss what we’re getting into for the night. Esme and Victor want to barhop. Liv wants to have a bonfire on the beach. Smith wants to do whatever Liv intends to do. Everyone is booed up except for me. “I’ll probably just hang back here. Maybe crack open a new book.”

Victor cocks his head to the side, giving me a curious look. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m getting tired anyway.”

“You didn’t come all this way to stay home by yourself,” he says. “Come out with us.”

I need Victor to read the room. Esme’s silent plea is as clear as day—she doesn’t want me tagging along.

“You should come out with us,” Liv offers.

Smith is quiet on the matter until Liv nudges his arm. “Yeah. Come out with us. It’ll be fun.”

I give a halfhearted yawn. “No, really. I’m tired.”

Judging by Victor’s skeptical look, he’s not buying what I’m trying to sell.

“All right, girl. Have fun doing you. I need to get dressed.” Esme’s playful tone borders on insistence as she tugs Victor’s hand for him to follow her out of the kitchen. But when he doesn’t move fast enough, she yanks his arm harder. “Babe. I need you to help me find something to wear. Something with easy access in case we want to have a quickie while we’re out. You know, like those other times.”

Before I can help myself, I roll my eyes.

“Smith,” Liv calls out like a drill sergeant, watching me. You caught that. Great.

“What’s up?” he says after crushing his empty can.

“I need a minute with Skylar.”

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