Page 62 of Dissolving Prejudice

“So you pick them by size?”

I couldn’t help but grunt. “You’re tiring today, you know that?”

We went on talking about dicks until we reached the resort’s dock, and Miles pointed over at a small motorboat.

“You expect me to get on that?” I asked with a foul look as I studied the ugly boat that seemed ready to sink at any given moment. Not to brag or anything, but I had high standards, considering my yacht, which I’d recently upgraded to a better one.

“It’s the best they had to offer at such short notice,” Miles answered me, then got on the floating dock.

Unwillingly, I followed him. “Well, who’s going to sail this junk?”

“The hotel sent us a skipper.”

Looking straight ahead, I only then noticed someone was indeed sitting in front of the wheel. With a stupid hat and the hotel staff uniform, he had his back to us. Ugh. He was probably an idiot with no sailing experience.

Finally reaching the boat, Miles was the first to climb on. I was ready to follow him on board when he gasped, and I quickly looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve left my phone in the spa.”

“So?” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “Let’s just go back there—”

“No!” Miles interrupted me, jumping from the boat and back to the dock. “I’ll go.” And while getting off the boat, he pushed me on, nearly making me fall forward. “You wait here and make sure no one steals our boat.”

“Why would anyone steal this piece of crap?” I hissed.

Miles shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wait here and don’t move.”

Confused, I watched him run down the dock and back to the shore. He was definitely acting odd, but whatever. So far, our day was fun enough for me to let it slide. With a huff, I pulled out my phone and sat down. As I scrolled through work emails, small waves rocked the boat while a strong breeze messed my hair. Despite it being annoying, it was also sort of nice, especially with the warm sun tingling on my skin—

“What the fuck?” I gasped when the boat began moving and I was jerked aside, nearly dropping my phone. Grabbing it tight, I looked at the boat’s engine to see it was working, leaving a white trail in the water as the pier was getting farther and farther away. “What the hell?” I hissed, then tucked my phone in my pocket and turned my head to the skipper.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarled at the man. “We’re waiting for him to return—”

I swallowed my words once the supposed skipper took off his hat and I saw who it truly was.

Oh, Miles, you little weasel.

“What are you doing here?” I barked at Camilo, anger spiking through my voice.

“What do you mean?” He played innocent, with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the throttle. “I’m taking you on a boat date.”

Remembering what the others had said this morning at breakfast, I grimaced. “But you’re supposed to be sick in your room, with raging diarrhea.”

“What?” He jerked his eyes to me, a deep crease between his pinched brows. “Why would you think that?”

“Eyes on the water!” I grabbed his head and forced it straight ahead. “And that’s what Miles said,” I muttered after letting go of him.

Camilo moved a hand over where I’d just touched him. “That little fuck,” he snorted under his breath while shaking his head.

Despite understanding it was all one big scheme, I still wanted to make sure he was fine. “So… your guts are okay?” I asked while holding on to one of the poles of the shade this boat had over the sitting area so I wouldn’t fall overboard with how fast Camilo was driving this thing.

“My guts are perfectly fine, kitten. But if you want yours rearranged, just say the word—”

“Turn this boat around,” I demanded, putting a stop to the nonsense he was spitting out.

“Not a chance, Llorón.”