Page 20 of The Romance Adventure
“Watch it,” Mag warns.
I hold up my hands, “Alright, alright.” Can’t say that I’m not a little resentful. Chip raised us, but he had some pirate-type tendencies.
“There’s speculation, sure, but why don’t you ask him?” Magnus says.
“The guy intimidates me.”
“He’s ancient, how could he—?”
A growl-like sound comes from Magnus’s chest. I take it to be the three-strike warning. Unless I want to find myself out back with his fist in my face, I’d better watch my tongue. Message received. My big brother is the only human on earth to whom I will ever defer.
“What is that?” Magnus asks, leaning toward the door and listening.
“I thought it was you.”
“Sounds like a boat,” Ryan says.
“We should head over to the resort,” I say, eager to get this over with.
We stand in the doorway of Beans & Books. Ryan waves to the woman who likely witnessed the entire interaction and if she loves writing books as much as reading them, she’ll feature our conversation in the pages of a novel called something like Bickering Brothers in Paradise.
Magnus shakes his head. “You didn’t look at the card Chip sent, did you?”
I shake my head.
“We’re not meeting at the resort. We’re meeting across the street.”
“Why would Chip have a party there?” Ryan points at a stucco, two-story building with classic scrollwork and a patio wrapping around the top and wrought-iron railings. Looks straight out of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie—belonging to the wealthy settlers, not the rabble-rousers in Tortuga.
“I’m not sure it’s a party, guys,” Mag mutters.
“Then what are we doing here?”
Standing on the street, the conversation turns rowdy with confusion, insults, and questions.
Magnus calls order at the same time that I go silent.
A woman exits a gate wreathed in climbing vines with pink flowers. I vaguely remember mamãe calling them bougainvillea.
I take a careful look because instead of wearing short overalls and a tank top, she has on a denim skirt and a tank top. Same paint-stained sneakers. Same long brown hair streaked blonde by the sun.
Backing away slowly, I can only imagine my eyes are as big as saucers.
“You’re staring,” Magnus says.
“What are you staring at?” Ryan asks.
Not what. Who.
She’s just so confusing. Chaotic. Like one of those splatter paint works of modern art, except this time and from this distance, I don’t see any paint. Looks like she showered.
I rub my eyes. I’ve got to be seeing things. “We should go to the meeting.”
“Now you want to go?” Ryan asks.
My step stutters as she approaches.
“And who is this?” Ryan asks.
