Page 94 of Hopeless Romantic
“You know me.” Levi pocketed his phone.
“I do. Almost as well as I know myself.” Emmitt leaned a hip against the railing and glanced down at his phone. “So if I were to offer you my cell, I wouldn’t see Beckett’s number on the call history?”
“Why are you getting signals and I’m not?”
“Because you use that shitty second-rate cell company,” Emmitt said, without looking up from his phone. “Kind of stupid, since you live on a boat. Reliable service is hard to find out here, especially with all the fog out tonight.”
“Fine. If I admit I wanted to call Beckett, can I borrow your phone?”
“Depends. Why do you want to call her?”
To see if she’s open to a repeat of last night’s Goodnight Moon.
Last night, Levi had asked Beckett what she was wearing, and her reply was a photo. Nothing too racy but showing enough skin to make him want to turn the boat around and exchange a proper, in-person, goodnight that would make for a very good morning. Beckett reminded him that this trip was about Emmitt—the lucky son of a bitch with a working phone—and promised him a bedtime story tonight, under the same moon.
So there he stood—same bat time, same bat channel—with Girl Wonder armed in nothing but her cape and go-go boots, and he was being cock-blocked by his wingman. Which left him with three options:
1.Tell Emmitt the truth, and break rule number two—what happens between us stays between us—and risk Emmitt telling Annie, and Annie telling Beckett, which was a guarantee since, when it came to Levi’s personal life, those two acted like a bunch of gossipy high schoolers. Or:
2.Lie, and risk Emmitt not handing over the phone, which would mean standing up Girl Wonder and her cape of wonderment. Which left:
3.Shove Emmitt overboard.
“Whoa.” Emmitt took a step back. “Back off, lover boy. I go overboard, and the phone goes with me. Plus, it isn’t working. That’s why I was out here, trying to get a signal to call Annie.” He held out the phone. “See, no signal.”
“You fucking with me?”
“Check for yourself.”
Levi snatched the phone. “Shit.” No signal.
“How about your satellite phone?” Which Emmitt had dragged to some of the most remote shitholes, so he wouldn’t miss a call from Paisley while chasing a story.
“The one Annie made me leave behind because of your whole ‘You guys are missing the point of being out on the open sea’?” Then the fucker sucked in a mocking lungful of salty air. “Thanks for making me see the error of my ways.”
Unwilling to admit defeat just yet, Levi walked down into the galley of the boat, where Gray, Emmitt’s dad, and two of their buddies were engaged in a high-stakes game of Monopoly: Star Wars Edition—because that’s what happened when aWheel of Fortunefan is tasked with organizing a bro-party. With Levi in the master, Emmitt’s dad playing the cancer card for Paisley’s bunk, and the Smug SOB of the Hour claiming the top bunk, it left only a couch large enough for one. Meaning the loser was sentenced to sleep on the deck loungers, with only a blanket and disgrace for warmth.
“Anyone have a working phone I can borrow?” When the reply was some noncommittal shrugs, Levi added, “Whoever gives me a working phone can take my bed.”
There was a second of silence, and then four sets of eyes locked on his, gauging the seriousness of his offer. “It expires in thirty seconds.”
The men were out of their seats, pockets were being padded, duffels emptied, phones held toward the ceiling. Gray looked the most desperate, probably because he’d spent last night on deck and wasn’t interested in a replay. Especially with the temperatures being ten degrees lower.
“You’re serious about your sat phone?” Levi asked when most of the guys disappeared up top with their respective phones, stomping and arguing.
“If I had it, don’t you think I’d have given it to Gray just so we wouldn’t have to endure another night listening to him bitch over how cold his delicate doctor hands are?”
“I’m going to make sure no one goes overboard,” Emmitt’s dad said, throwing a coat over his wiry frame and heading outside.
“Yeah, it’d be a damn shame if someoneaccidentallywent overboard,” Emmitt mumbled.
A moment later, Gray entered, wearing a blanket fashioned as a wizard’s cape over his head and dragging at his feet. He went to the stove and put on the teakettle. “I’ve got nothing. How about you?”
“Not even enough to log in as HitMeUpHarry,” Emmitt said, referring to the fake Instagram account he’d created after catching Paisley with a senior a few months back.
“If Paisley comes home with a hickey, it’s on you,” Gray said to Levi.
“I suggested Atlantic City; you chose my boat.”
