Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I squeezed my eyes closed and dropped my chin to my chest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now,” I muttered.
After steeling myself for his judgment, I pivoted, still in a crouch, and glared up at him. “What do you want?”
James looked from me to the valve handle clutched in my hand to the water still oozing from the toilet—at least the torrent had slowed—and back again. “It can wait.”
I ground my teeth. “You’re here for a reason, James. What is it?”
James shuffled his feet, sending ripples across the soggy carpet water. I noticed that his shoes were pristine, polished to a perfect shine. I didn’t really know much about fashion, especially high-end stuff, but I figured that pair of shoes was probably worth more than I earned in a month of tips. And yet James didn’t seem to notice or care that they were slowly being ruined.
If I needed any proof that we occupied different worlds, there it was right there.
James cleared his throat. “Ah, well… funny story. I need a place to stay, actually. Your uncle kicked me out of his place. It seems something got mixed up with his Airbnb bookings, and I got the short end of the stick.”
I frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Ana Lucia handled my uncle’s bookings, and she never made mistakes like that. I started to fish for my phone, intending to call her and ask about it when I heard a clattering sound drawing near. I looked up just as the woman in question wedged an old luggage cart in the doorway.
“Hey, Ana Lucia, something happen with the lawyer’s booking at Uncle Brian’s?” I asked.
“Yep. Double-booked.” She grabbed one of the Rivenses’ bags and placed it on the cart and then shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do?”
She sounded entirely too nonchalant for having made a mistake. Normally something like that would have triggered an event akin to the end of the world.
“You made a mistake?” I asked, still dubious.
She paused gathering the Rivenses’ belongings together and tapped a fingernail against her front teeth as though struggling to remember. “Gee, I guess I did.”
Now I knew something was off. Every Gilley knew that pointing out Ana Lucia’s mistakes was asking for death. Or at the very least a month of passive-aggressive petty bullshit.
I was about to press the issue when I caught sight of her expression as she turned back to the luggage cart. The smug satisfaction and mischief in her eyes told the whole story.
And the middle fingers she shot at the back of our erstwhile attorney confirmed it.
Well, that answered that. I glanced back at James. “There’s a bed-and-breakfast in town,” I suggested.
He grimaced. “Yeah, uh, seems that’s all booked up too.”
That was odd. “They’re never full. Wonder what’s going on?”
James shrugged. “No idea. The website shows rooms available, but when I showed up to check in, they said there must have been some sort of glitch and they were all sold out for the night.”
“I guess you can try the next town over. There are a couple of places there that are pretty nice.”
“Already did. All booked. Same in Barnstable, Hyannis, and Yarmouth.” He threw his hands up. “Seems half the state chose this one random night to flood the Cape. Which means you’re the only game in town at the moment.”
Something was seriously off. There was no way every single hotel, inn, Airbnb, and bed-and-breakfast in a thirty-mile radius was full. I pushed to my feet, intending to get to the bottom of this when I noticed Ana Lucia standing in the doorway with both arms up, flexing like a body builder and shaking her hips in silent victory.
This had been her doing. She’d been the one to make sure James couldn’t find a room. She’d called in the cavalry on this one, and lord knew how many favors she’d promised in return. Still, it was nice someone had my back around here.
I struggled not to grin at her, lest James get suspicious.
I shrugged. “Then I guess you’re shit out of luck,” I told him, moving past him to find a wrench in the toolbox in my jeep. He’d caused me enough trouble today, and I had to admit, I felt some satisfaction that Ana Lucia had been able to cause him some in return. He deserved it.
And though a teeny-tiny, very, very small piece of me felt sorry for his predicament, it wasn’t my job to fix his problems. I had problems of my own that required my attention. Like the fact that my entire family history was currently running out into the parking lot along with mint-green dye from the manky shag carpeting in room 109.
“Wait,” he said, chasing after me. “What about here? What about you?”
I spun to face him. I was over trying to make this easy on him. I didn’t have time for James and his damned fancy clothes and New York City money. No matter how adorable and flustered and desperate he looked.