Page 100 of Mexico Can Choke On It
A chuckle crackles through the receiver. “You’re riding behind me, Pip. Get a good grip—I don’t go slow.”
I cock my head with a teasing grin. “Should I be concerned about your stamina? I mean, you tapped out pretty early yesterday with that ‘no sex’ excuse.”
Before Bryce can serve up a smug one-liner, we overhear Fiona whining.
“But babe. I was picturing a more sensual activity. Like you, shirtless, getting a massage while I feed you grapes. Not ruining my romper on a glorified lawnmower.”
She and Hana are both dressed for a garden party and not a joyride through a swamp pit.
“Fi, we had a deal,” Gavin says. “One thing. Just one damn thing I wanted to do this week. And this is it!”
“But Gav-Gav, this is so…barbaric.I assumed you’d pick something more civilized.”
“We have eleven spa appointments on the schedule,” Gavin sighs. “I agreed to your group chakra healing, the seaweed wraps, and even the couple’s full-moon sound bath. This is theonething I asked for. C’mon. You can survive two hours on an ATV.”
Ooh, trouble in paradise.This is the first time I’ve seen cracks in their pre-wedding love bubble, and I am here for it. Popcorn in hand. Zoomedallthe way in.
Hana makes a beeline for us, fleeing the tension. Bryce glues himself to his phone, avoiding the chatterbox like a pro.
“Oh my goodness, this is going to be such an adventure! I never get to do things this exciting! My fiancé and I take walks together, but anything past the driveway and he needs his walker. But honestly, it’s super convenient because there’s a cup holder attachment for my water bottle and extra storage for his heart medication!”
Seriously, what the fuck do I say to this girl’s stories?
Hana continues her ramble. “I’m not even strapped in yet, and I already feel like a rebel! Can you keep a secret?”
“Depends.” I say. “Will I be legally required to testify?”
“I didn’t get permission to do this,” she whispers. “I signed the waiver without calling my mom or my fiancé‘s assistant. I didn’t even read it!”
“Hana Choi. You dirty little thrill-seeker. I am so fucking proud.”
She starts hyperventilating. “Oh geez. What if they find out? I’m not bold like you, Petra. My heart is racing. Maybe I shouldn’t.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath. They don’t have to like it. You’re not a collectible doll, Hana. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
“You’re totally right. I’m doing it. I’m being a bad girl. OH GOSH—I GOTTA PEE AGAIN.”
I feel oddly proud as I watch Hana bounce toward the restrooms.
“So… corruptingallthe rich people now?” Bryce asks. “I thoughtIwas your special project.”
There’s that cocky smirk.He’s so fucking gorgeous.
“Aw, look at you. Already needy, and we haven’t even hit second gear yet.”
All these different sides of him—the controlled businessman, the dominant tease, the snarky smartass—it’s sensory overload.
“Distinguished guests!” Nigel’s crisp accent cuts through the garage chatter. “Your attention, if you please, for our safety orientation.”
After yesterday’s sequined salsa spectacle, I thought nothing Nigel Featherwick could wear would shock me. Wrong. The man, usually straight out of a period drama, is now in full military camouflage, complete with combat pants and a tactical shirt. His ATV helmet and aviation goggles make him look ready for a fighter jet mission.
“Due to recent rainfall, terrain conditions are especially challenging,” Nigel continues. “Please exercise appropriate caution and reduce speed when necessary.”
Two Casa Cashmere security guards—clearly ex-military—step forward. One nods. The other salutes. Then… the strapping begins.
They start buckling black padded straps around Nigel’s torso with the intensity of someone preparing an astronaut for launch. Crisscrossing chest harnesses. Reinforced shoulder clips. The whole contraption looks like bondage gear meets mountain climbing equipment.
From the side garage door, a third security guy appears. He moves slowly like he’s transporting live explosives. Cradled in his arms?
