Page 1 of The Perfect Escape

1/

rosie

Sunlight bouncedoff the waves in the distance, rippling across the ocean and kissing my long, tanned legs. Like a lizard, I was spread out on a beach chair, basking in the mid-afternoon glow. I soaked up every ounce of sun—along with the occasional lusty glances from strangers as they passed by—like a thirsty flower.

It was June, I was on vacation with my hot husband, andeverythingwas perfect.

“Here’s that frozen margarita you asked for, baby.”

I opened my eyes and smiled as he handed me a giant glass full of frosted peach slush. There was even a little red umbrella with flowers sprouting from the top next to a maraschino cherry.

“Thank you, love,” I said, taking it from him.

Greg was the perfect picture of a sexy, doting husband. Silver streaked his dark hair, and he’d trimmed his beard this morning so it was neat. Despite working over sixty hours a week as a neurosurgeon, he was religious about lifting weights every morning, and it showed in his well-defined muscles. He wore a bright blue speedo, sunscreen streaking the back of his neck from where I’d applied it.

The last thing I wanted was to scratch a sunburn in the middle of a midnight lovemaking session, so I was on top of our SPF application.

He gave me a wink, flashing his brilliant smile as he sat down in the beach chair next to me. We’d been working so hard this year, so he’d surprised me with a four-day getaway to the coast, whisking away on a first-class ride to paradise. The tender love and care was much needed, and I was grateful he’d thought ahead to do this for us.

After nine years of marriage, he still knew how to keep things exciting and romantic—which was no small feat. Many of my friends who’d been married this long found themselves inking divorce papers or spending an outrageous amount of money on couple therapy.

I supported both of those avenues. Sometimes things didn’t work out, and that was okay. Hell, my friend Skye divorced her idiot husband and ended up in a four-way with her childhood best friend, that friend’s husband, and her stepbrother.

Good for Skye, was all I could think.

But I was thankful my Greg was Greg.

He released a long, drawn-out sigh as he stretched on the chair, placing his hands behind his head. “So… I was thinking…”

I raised a brow and looked at him, letting my sunglasses slide down the bridge of my nose so I could peek over them. “Yes?”

“I signed us up for afunactivity,” he drawled.

“Ohreally?”

“Yes. Good for couples, I’ve heard.”

“And what activity is that? Swing dancing?”

He snorted. “You know I have two left feet, Rosie baby.”

I waited for him to continue. “Are you going to tell me?”

He smirked. “I like drawing out the suspense.”

“Greg.” I sighed. “Tell me, or else I’ll worry it’s something ridiculous.”

“It’s an escape room.”

Well, I apparently was right to worry. Goddamn it. “Anescaperoom?”

He couldn’t be serious, right? I wrinkled my nose and pushed my sunglasses back up the bridge of my nose. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and we both knew he was going to have to convince me it was a fun activity.

I had zero interest in an escape room. I’d come on this vacation to get my back blown out and my brains fried by the sun. All I wanted was good sex, good margaritas, and good food. I didn’t want to think about problems that needed solving.

“Isn’t that like a giant puzzle or something, Greg?” I whined. “I already do enough problem solving in my everyday life. I don’t want to think that hard on vacation.”

“It’ll be fun!” he exclaimed. “It’s a themed adventure, too. Some sort of beach thing or something.”

---