Page 45 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

I stifle yet another yawn as she digs through her drawers. We’re in a small bungalow closer to the end of their compound. Miele mentioned we were closest in size, but I’ve been fighting sleep since she dragged me out of bed a few minutes ago with surprising strength.

“Here we are!” she squeals, holding up scraps of fabric before turning and grinning to me.

Once my eyes focus on what she’s wearing, they balloon.

“Um–”

“Try this on! I’ll be back!” Miele throws whatever’s in her hand at me before rushing out of the room.

I hold it out away from me. Now, I’m by no means a prude, but even I wouldn’t wear the bathing suit Miele gave me.

At least, I think it’s a bathing suit.

Standing, I amble over to the drawer she was digging through, and find a more appropriate option. Clearly, she’s convinced Rico to let me onto the boat she was talking about. I hate tan lines, but I definitely want more than my pussy lips and nipples covered around all of Rico’s cousins.

And Rico.

I only have to rummage for a little before finding an olive green two-piece string bikini. The top fits like a glove, but the bottom… Miele definitely has more booty than me.

There’s a white sarong hanging out of the drawer above it, and I grab that and tie it artfully around my waist.

My teeth comb my bottom lip as I take a deep breath and turn toward the full-length mirror in the feminine room. I’m careful about avoiding mirrors, even before I did what I did.

But now, I need to see.

My hair’s growing back more. Bright red hairs that’ll probably get darker cover my entire scalp now. My eyebrows have grown out, too, matching the hair on the top of my head.

I’m back to being a Raggedy Ann doll.

The sarong covers how tight I had to tie the bottoms. I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t actually get into the water.

The door opens, taking my gaze from the mirror to a grinning Miele.

“Beautiful!” she gushes.

My hands go to my scalp. “You have a green scarf?”

Her smile falters, before she goes back to the chest of drawers. Awkwardly, she stops, and turns to me.

“No.”

“Miele,” I sigh, but her grin is back before she starts pulling me out of the room.

“You don’t need it, Wynter Snow,” she says, punctuating it with a wink.

I begin to bite the skin on the inside of my cheeks. It’s one thing to be walking around the grounds, but there’s something about looking fabulous out at sea.

I’ve been on a yacht once. Sheisty’s wife, Pandora, chartered one for her birthday, and we had a ball.

I was also three sheets to the wind. So now, sober, and surrounded by people who want to keep me sober, I wonder how this will go.

I don’t realize Miele doesn't have on a bathing suit until we’ve reached the dock on the other side of the hotel. Before I can ask her, she points toward the medium sized boat I’m guessing we'll be on, and the figure climbing onto the dock.

The shirtless figure. With the eye patch. Blocking out the sunrise like this is some type of movie.

It’s barely seven in the morning and here Rico is, abs and pecs greased up as he saunters over to us.

Perfect body. Perfect little oasis in paradise. He even makes the eye patch look good.