Page 59 of The Romance Adventure

I’ll drop hints that I know all about her little scheme. I’ll watch her squirm and then surprise her at the hearing. Then she’ll feel as betrayed as I did this morning when I read the report, associating her with Daxel and Gavin Norris.

“You and Magnus seem to have the hardest time loosening up. You ought to wear island-appropriate attire,” Isla prattles on.

I’m not listening. I’m done with her just as quickly as things started.

As the days roll by, I do my best to keep my distance from Isla. I can tell she’s starting to get confused. I’m not fooled that easily. Granted, I thought the run-in at the Smoothery was random. The truck stop, a coincidence. The law office, serendipity.

Now, I know the truth. Guess I made an easy and gullible mark.

Not anymore. She gets the cold shoulder. Pure steel from now on. She must get the message because it only takes a few days for her to cool off—probably, she’s getting nervous, afraid that I’m onto her scheme.

I’d been getting my morning coffee and muffin at Beans & Books, but as the days pass, I’m operating at a coffee deficit because she’s been in there early in the morning painting a mural. Working before we meet at the Driftwood.

I can’t stomach the sea swill they call coffee from the Plundering Pelican. As I pass Beans & Books, I spot Isla balanced on a ladder, painting a leaf on the wall, when she lifts her cell phone to her ear. Her paintbrush veers away from the outline, sending a scribble across the wall. With a glance over her shoulder as if looking for someone, she hurries to the back of the shop. I doubt she saw me, standing here in the shadow of the awning like a lovesick weirdo, though.

It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if she skips town. In which case, she’ll be hearing from my lawyers for impersonating her sister.

However, something pinches inside, redirects my breath, and makes my thoughts rush. But I won’t soften and let Isla’s touch, her voice, or her lips ever trick me again.

Isla

CHAPTER 15

Like a good little ex-girlfriend who’s been burned, I deleted and blocked Dax from my life. I erased him from my phone and social media. After kissing Royal, I’d done a decent job of forgetting about him entirely.

Until Royal seemed to have forgotten about me...and Dax remembered my existence. His call was threatening, warning me that if I cooperate with the police, I’ll find myself under the sea. My stomach roils with nerves and I pace in the back room at Beans & Books, trying to figure out what to do.

There’s no way Dax knows where I am. For now. Taking a deep breath, I focus on what’s in front of me. Well, books, Nutmeg, whose slitted eyes gleam in the shadows, and the resort restoration project. We’re supposed to meet with an online news outlet, showcasing local events and reports with a splashy article about the big Driftwood makeover.

But my mind scrambles and not only because Royal must’ve decided that kissing me was a mistake. The morning after, I thought he wanted to play it cool so his brothers didn’t give him a hard time or to prevent things from getting tricky with the will and the resort project.

I gave him some grace as the day passed, and he remained distant, cold. The next morning, I thought perhaps he was experiencing a caffeine deficiency, so I brought him a coffee and some treats from Beans & Books. He said he didn’t want it and threw it in the trash.

Now, today, he won’t even speak, never mind look at me. I’m a keep-my-chin-up kind of person, but I wouldn’t mind burying my head in the sand right now and pretending that none of this is happening. It’s bad enough that my ex is after me, but now the guy who I thought might be my next won’t even acknowledge me.

The curtain to the back room swishes open at the same time someone says, “Boo.”

I jump at least six inches off the floor and bonk my head on some books. Nutmeg also startles and streaks out of the room. But it’s just Bean, wearing a smile. At least I have her.

“So, you and Royal, huh?”

Never mind. Return to sender. There’s no one by that name at this address.

She waggles her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the way you look at each other.”

“You mean with raw, unadulterated hatred.”

Bean’s eyes widen and her jaw lowers toward her chest. “I must have a dictionary around here somewhere, but last I checked, the definition of hate is not the same as the heat that radiates between you two.”

“When was the last time you saw us together?”

“Yesterday, when you were walking back from the resort.”

“You mean when he was jogging ahead, trying to lose me like a stray dog?”