Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“But what if it doesn’t help?” My little sister’s voice shot sky-high with panic. Kylie was a world-class worrier. She was the youngest of my siblings, a teenager when our parents were killed, and her anxiety had affected her schoolwork all through high school and now in college. Talking her through her fears required lots of time and patience, which was why I’d extracted myself from the bar.
The aftereffects of Ariel still lingered though. “You’re catastrophizing, Kylie. You can’t get worked up over what hasn’t happened. Got it?”
“I know, I know. I’m such a screwup,” she said, another sob catching her voice. “You probably never struggled in school.”
“You’re not a screwup,” I said, gentle but brooking no argument. “Stop beating yourself up over this. You just need some help.”
“But tutors are so expensive.”
“Kylie.” I stopped walking. Time for some tough love. “Stop it right now. No more talk of being a screwup, or about money. I’ve got that handled. Your job is to focus on school.” I listened to her take a few calming breaths. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you, Jake,” she said sincerely. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important, like enjoying a beautiful beach.”
I laughed. “Just talking to someone I met playing darts.”
“A girl?”
“None of your business,” I said.
“Definitely a girl, then,” she teased. I let her rib me, then told her I loved her and said goodbye. By then, the sun had started to dip toward the horizon, pulling streaks of orange and pink across the sky like a tail. My watch said fifteen minutes had passed.
Maybe Ariel was still at the bar. It was a big maybe, but I picked up the pace just in case. On the way back, I passed shops selling jewelry and sundresses, and then the surf shop advertising local tours in their front window. I did a double take at a familiar name on a poster and filed the info in my mental storage banks.
When I reached The Pink Pelican, I scanned the whole place, but the woman I’d pictured taking home was nowhere in sight. I sighed, cursing myself for not grabbing her number.
But the world’s most helpful bartender was calling me over with a mischievous smile.
Maris held out a napkin to me. “A pretty lady gave me this for you.”
I unfolded it, then chuckled when I saw what she’d written. No number. Just a clue.
Hell yes. I loved clues, and this one was especially good. It basically spelled out another chance with her—tomorrow.
6
LUCKY KISS
Ruby
Kiss a ray and get seven years of good luck.
The words stenciled in blue on the surf shop wall taunted me, along with the trio of framed photos hanging below them.
The pictures told the story of the luckiest man I’d ever known. In the first, a young Eli Thompson pressed his lips to the smooth, silvery skin of a stingray. I’d been seven at the time, and kissing any sort of creature, under or above water, was certifiably gross. In the background, seven-year-old me laughed. My stepdad and I shared that sense of adventure. Back then, he’d been my hero—the man who’d made my mom happy again.
She’d been devastated when my dad had died so unexpectedly. But a few years later, she met Eli, who’d brought laughter and happiness back into her life. Now it made my chest burn to think of him covering up his straying ways with his sunshine smile.
In the next stingray lip-lock photo, Eli’s hair was a touch thinner and a bit darker, but his light blue eyes had that same confident spark. I’d inched close enough to blow a kiss to the stingray on that occasion. “You’ll kiss him next time,” Eli had told me.
The final picture was taken when I’d joined Eli and my mom here after my junior year of college. I’d gone all in and puckered up to the stingray for the first time. But just when my lips would have landed, the ray had slipped away, taking my luck with it.
Maybe if I’d kissed the stingray sooner or held on longer, I might have had Eli’s luck—breezing through life with a grin, taking what he wanted because he could. He had charm.
Duke had that too. I’d fallen for the easy way he had about him. But the moment things didn’t go his way, he’d turned into a complete asshole.
I hoped Eli wasn’t all bad. But I wasn’t holding my breath.
I drummed my fingers against the counter, waiting for Devon to finish up with the last of his early-evening customers at Stingray Town Hire and Tours.
“But don’t they, you know, sting you?” a woman with big sunglasses and gold hoop earrings asked him in a Jersey accent.
He moved his hand like he was petting a dog. “Nah. They’re like little puppies. They know you have food, so they get all excited and cuddle up next to you.”