Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Too fast. She coughs loudly into her hand.
Damnation.
This firecracker is going to leave a smoking crater where my nose used to be.
“Both times,” I bite off.
She looks at me slowly and takes a sip of water from the other glass in front of her.
“Well, you’re honest, I guess. That’s one point. And this stuff is pretty good.”
“The coffee?”
Thank fuck we’ve done one thing right.
“Yep. Divine. Even better than the Wired Cup stuff back in Seattle if that’s your supplier. I did a little research and heard the coffee was supposed to be this special extra perk to keep people happy and coming back. I heard Mr. Hardass CEO even dragged his whole team to Kona for a taste test just to make sure it was right. Can you imagine?”
Are my eyes daggers?
Yes, lady, I can imagine.
Because I am Mr. Hardass and I was there. Absolute perfection is a reasonable demand when I’m buying the world’s rarest coffee by the truckload just to keep my guests happy.
It was also amusing as hell watching Cole Lancaster pretend he wasn’t smitten with that little coffee geek he married who was just his smartest lab wonk then, but I digress.
“Can we focus on us?” I say, trying like hell to shift the subject.
“Sure. I’m glad you admit you’ve made some real dick moves.”
Oh, you little screamer, if I wasn’t playing peacemaker, I could show you dick moves you’d never complain about.
“They weren’t dickhead moves...were they?” I growl.
She looks at me like I’m stupid and laughs awkwardly again.
“Oh? You want to decide that, huh?”
I roll my eyes.
“Listen, I get the message, loud and clear. No attempt to smooth this over with lobsters and massages is ever going to be enough, and I’m sorry to hear that. I also understand.” I inhale sharply. “I wouldn’t want some ogre intruder who woke me up from a dead sleep bribing me with gifts either. Still, isn’t it best practice to make sure guests enjoy their stays? I don’t have a time machine.”
“Disappointing,” she says, raising a brow. “I was expecting you to offer me the full H.G. Wells experience.”
Is that a joke?
I don’t fucking laugh.
“As for showering in your room, you know I thought it was mine,” I continue. “The error won’t happen again. I’m not sure what else I can do except change the future, and that means making the rest of your stay here so goddamned glorious you go home exhausted with a smile plastered on your face that makes your fucking cheeks hurt.”
“Sounds painful.” She winces and takes another long pull of coffee.
Damn her, is everything I say cursed?
She stands, grabs her coffee, and starts walking past me.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I call after her. “Miss Renee!”
“Getting some peace and quiet like I asked for when you invaded my space again. I’m finishing my coffee in my room,” she says without looking back.
“Your lobster—”
“Eat it. No one turns down free lobster, right?”
My hand cramps.
When I look down, I see I’m clenching it so hard my knuckles are bone-white.
Goddamn, she has a talent for stressing me out with a simple conversation.
Snarling, I pick up my coffee so fast it sloshes out over my wrist.
I swear and chug a few quick sips anyway, then pull out my phone and email the front desk to assign Miss Sunshine a two-thousand-dollar spa credit.
Time to break out the big guns.
A minute later, the server returns with a buttery omelet that smells like fresh lobster and cream. He stares at Piper’s empty seat.
“Oh, she left? I can keep this warm for her if you’d like.”
“Just give it to me.” There’s no point in wasting perfectly good lobster eggs. “Oh, and one more thing—it’s Mr. Winthrope. We really adhere to formalities for staff morale.”
His face sinks, but damned if I care.
Because there’s no point in pretending I’m not on my very last thread, and I don’t need to bite my own tongue off trying to hold it for this strange, insufferable woman.
3
Pig Hospitality (Piper)
I’m not sure what time it is in Seattle, but as soon as I’m back in my room, I call Jenn.
I need some moral support ASAP.
It rings a few times. I’m afraid she’s asleep or at work or whatever it is people in Seattle are doing on a normal evening.
“Hey, Sunshine. How’s Hawaii?” she finally answers.
“O-M-G. Are you free for story time? Because you will not believe this.”
“Holy crap! You met a hot surfer dude and you’re getting married on the beach? Pippa Renee, when’s the wedding?”
I burst out laughing at her dumb joke. “...I mean, that isn’t much more absurd than the truth.”
“Lay it on me,” she says eagerly.
“I did meet a hot guy. Found him naked as the day he was born in my hotel room.”
“Day-um. What? Is it something in the air? I didn’t know I was sending you to Hawaii to score a hookup like that so easy. And you never hook up. Did you order the dude on-demand? Is there an insta-stud app I don’t know about? Is he an ornithologist?”