Page 23 of Bound to You

“It’s perfect, thank you so much.”

“Good, good…” I scramble for anything else to say. “No issues with room service or anything? Everything’s good? Has your room been getting cleaned every day?”

“Caio,” Isla starts, reaching her hand out and placing it on my arm to stop my rambling. My skin sparks where she touches it, and by the way she quickly pulls her hand away, she felt it too. “Like I said, it’s perfect. More than we could have asked for. Thank you again.”

God, when she looks at me like that it’s pretty convincing. It’s like she’s speaking to me through those pretty brown eyes of hers. And right now, they’re telling me that little spark surprised her more than it did me.

“Okay, good.”

“Good.” A small smile plays at the edge of her mouth at this somewhat awkward interaction. It hasn’t really been awkward with us before. Maybe some tense moments here and there, but never awkward. But that’s my fault—I’m radiating uncertainty because I don’t really know why I’m here other than wanting to see her and talk to her again.

“Well, I better go.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder.

“Important business stuff to do, hm?” Isla’s eyes glitter with a look that says she can see right through me.

“Exactly.”

She smiles. “Okay. See you later, Caio,” she says before shutting the door between us, leaving me standing here in the hall.

I’m not sure if you could call that a good interaction, but she smiled, and that’s good enough for me.

chapter nine

ISLA

“Hey,turn it up, I love this song!” Marina yells at the young guy messing with the jukebox in the corner of the room.

It’s our first shift at the bar and so far, everything is going smoothly, but it’s early, so we haven’t had any rush yet.

Marina’s is unique, with plush, maroon cushioned booths lining the far wall and vintage posters decorating the walls. Dim lighting from mismatched pendants reflects off of the bottles shelved behind the bar, the shelves so high there’s a rolling ladder so we can reach the top shelf. The space has a sultry feel about it. It’s warm and cozy, but sexy too. Although from what I’ve heard, the place can get pretty rowdy on a Friday night.

We’ve gotten into the swing of things easily enough. I’m drying glasses behind the bar while May is out on the floor serving the few customers that are in.

Nora and Vanessa are cackling away at a table in the corner. They’re on their third round of strawberry margaritas and counting. Apparently, it’s a regular occurrence for them—weekly catch-ups that they’ve been doing for years, filling each other in on town gossip and dramas. This town must be like a soap opera for them if they have so much to catch up on every week. They’velooked over at me a few too many times for me to think I’m not a topic of conversation in tonight’s chinwag.

My phone buzzes on the bar top and Brandon’s name pops up on the screen. The second call from him in two days.

Would he give it a break? The guy is number smart, one of the best accountants in New York, but when it comes to people? He’s thick in the head, and he never could read a room. I don’t think I could’ve been clearer when I told him I never wanted to hear from him again, but he clearly didn’t get the memo. He never liked things happening that were out of his control, so me leaving like I did would’ve sent him into a spiral.

I watch the screen as the call rings through.

“You need to get that?” Marina comes up beside me.

“No, sorry.” I switch my phone off and pocket it as I zone back into where I am.

“No, it’s alright, but are you? Who was that?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.”

She searches my eyes for how I’m actually feeling, something she seems to have in common with Caio.

“It was Brandon.” I can’t help but say his name with resentment.

“The ex?” she asks.

I nod. “I don’t even want to know why he’s calling.”

I pick up a new glass, getting back to the task at hand. Answering his calls would only make me feel worse. Over the course of our relationship, Brandon mastered the art of gaslighting and guilt tripping. He flirted with my dad more than me, trying to get a job at his firm. This summer is for moving on, cleansing my soul of his stain, and picking up the phone would only give me insults and accusations to turn over in my head. I’m done with all of that.

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