I tap on it and scroll through the reviews first.
Beautiful tropical location.
Cool, relaxed vibe.
Most fun I’ve had in years.
Great for relaxation or playtime.
This sounds right up my alley, so I click over to the photos and attempt to not drool. It’s beachside, the sand white and the water a clear blue. There’s an enormous Roman pool, which seems to be the centerpiece of the resort. It’s surrounded by palm trees and a cute bar that boasts high-end liquors.
The lobby appears well-appointed, and the rooms look clean and inviting. I notice all of them have two queen beds. Some of them even have three beds, which seems weird since it’s not a family resort.
But what really grabs my attention are the hammocks dotted throughout the grounds. I picture myself reclined back on one of them with my laptop resting on my stomach, typing away as the sea breeze gently sways me from side to side.
And the best thing is that it’s all-inclusive, so I won’t be wasting money on overpriced resort food and drinks. Actually, that’s the second-best thing. The best is the price.
Could this be right?According to this, a seven-day trip is totally in my price range, but I’d have to leave in two days. I save it under my favorites and return to the main menu to search for airfare. My nose wrinkles. Booking this late is going to cost a lot, but I think I canswing it with my book income and my salary as the head librarian at Pine Tree Falls Library.
Taking a deep breath, I go back to the Pineapple Island Resort page and click “Book It!”
A pop-up appears and catches my attention.
Flash sale! Book an additional week and save 50% on your entire vacation. Book TWO additional weeks, and you’ll also receive FREE airfare from most major airports.
“What?” I shriek at my screen, navigating to the airport page to see if DFW is listed. It is indeed.
Excitement makes the tips of my fingers tingle. Three weeks away is exactly what I need to finish my book, and this deal is too good to be true.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I accept the offer and sit back in my chair with a satisfied grin.
Pineapple Island, here I come!
Chapter 3
I’m done with women.
“Thisistotalhorseshit,”my friend and now-ex-teammate, Lane Rivera, says. “I don’t want to have to work with some fucking rookie when we could have you.” The brown skin of his forehead wrinkles into a frown.
The other member of our group, Marcus Rhodes, shares a similar expression of disgust. “They’re really trying to get Fredrickson Mitchell? His name sounds like a goddamn law firm.”
My two buddies share a look before Lane’s dark eyes fix on me. “We’ll make him feelrealwelcome.”
“Don’t you two go getting in trouble, or else Priestner might trade you too,” I grumble, staring down into my beer.
“That Mitchell prick deserves it after that interview he did on ESPN,” Marcus says with a sneer before quoting Fredrickson Mitchell in a mocking voice. “I’m the best defenseman in the country, including the pros.”
The buzz of the bar swirls around us, but we ignore it, including the frequent looks cast in our direction. But that’s what happens when three giant, famous hockey players enter a bar, even though we claimed the most inconspicuous table in the back corner. One of the bouncers hovers a few feet away to ward off unwanted attention.
I sigh. “Maybe I’ll just retire from hockey and become a commentator or something.”
Both my friends look horrified. “Fuck no,” Lane says. “You’re at the height of your career, Reno, and you’re not letting those assholes take what you love from you.” He jabs a finger into my chest. “You’re going to fuck Priestner up the ass by having your best year ever.”
God, my friends are good for my soul.
“Agreed. Fuck them. And I’ll bet Princess Tiffy didn’t even get in trouble,” Marcus adds as he clicks on his phone. “Yep, look at this.”
He turns his phone and shows us the screen, where Tiffy Priestner is posing with both arms up in front of the Louvre. The Instagram caption reads, “Daddy sent me to Italy this week!” along with a million hashtags.
