Page 11 of Faking It at Sea

I swung my arm out to keep the doors from closing. “Everything okay?”

June studied me, her gaze sliding down to my mouth before drifting back up. I might not be able to tell exactly what she was thinking, but that look was filled with sensual mischief. At least until she slipped past me. When I went to follow, she pressed a hand to my chest.

“Right here, eight a.m.,” she said. “And the excursion is my treat.”

My half-dead heart leapt at the idea of getting to see her again, but I couldn’t let her pay. “Fake dating or not, I should be the one footing the bill.”

“Maybe, but I’m the one who already has an ATV shore excursion booked.”

“Is that so?”

She smirked up at me, and I couldn’t tell if she was aware of the way her hand trailed down my chest. Or the powerful effect that soft contact was having on me. Then she backed up a step, stealing her delicious touch away. “Yep. Take it or leave it.”

The thought of getting on an ATV stirred up memories I thought I’d buried a long time ago. My scars were visible reminders of what I’d gone through with my accident, but it wasn’t those wounds that cut the deepest, it was everything I’d lost because of it.

For June, though, I might be willing to take that risk.

“I’ll see you at eight.”

5

JUNE

The moment the suite door closed behind me, I messaged Missy to let her know where I was and that I was safe and sound. She replied a few seconds later.

Be there in ten.

Ten minutes was more than enough time to get my crap together. I set a timer on my phone just in case she didn’t make it back to the room, then ducked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my overheated face.

Sutton was... unexpected, and I found myself torn between worrying that I’d made a huge mistake asking him to pose as my vacation boyfriend and wondering if I would be able to sleep a wink from the giddy excitement of spending the next day with him.

I hadn’t lied about the shore excursion. I did have one booked, but it was supposed to be for me and Missy. Except Missy hadn’t seemed all that interested when I’d mentioned it to her. So, I’d figured I would be going alone.

Which would have been fine. I was used to doing things on my own.

When you spent most of your twenties single, while your friends found the loves of their life left and right, you learned that taking yourself out to dinner or to the movies wasn’t as bad as it sounded. There was no argument over which restaurant to choose or which movie to watch or where to sit in the theater. And I didn’t have to worry if my dinner had too many onions in it or share my popcorn.

Being single was easy. Lonely at times, sure. Getting sick sucked because I was still the one who had to drag my butt out of bed to make my own soup and hold my own hair, but it was mostly drama-free.

Sutton was right about the trip though. Our ruse would be more believable if we did things together, on and off the ship.

By the time Missy walked through the door holding her strappy heels in one hand and an open bottle of champagne in the other, I was half asleep on the couch in my sleep shorts and tank. Or maybe I had fallen asleep. My e-reader had gone dark in my lap, but the timer on my phone was ticking down the final minute.

“Wakey, wakey,” she sing-songed. She tossed her shoes in the general direction of her room, dropped her matching wristlet on the table, and sank down on the cushions next to me. “And drinky, drinky.” She held the bottle up.

I took it from her and brought it to my lips. Not only was it flat, but it was also room temperature. “How long have you been walking around with this?” I asked, setting it aside.

She shrugged. “Since I decided all men are selfish jerks.”

“Uh oh.” I knew this rant. She might not be slurring her words yet, but she’d had enough to drink that she was slipping into a dark mood. “Did your harem of men turn out to be assholes?”

“Who?” Understanding caught up with her a second later. “Oh, the guys from the bar? No. They were fine.” She foldedforward and dug her phone out of the small bag before tossing it in my lap. “Robert messaged me.”

“Why haven’t you blocked him yet?” It wasn’t like she owed her lying, cheating ex anything.

“I don’t know,” she whined, letting her head fall against the back of the overstuffed couch.

I held her phone in front of her upturned face to unlock it and opened her messages.

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