Page 62 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Lies! You’re insinuating I’m judgmental when I shouldn’t be.”
“Are you?”
“No! Ben is just… rude, and not who girls like Tittney and Spitney normally pursue. There had to be more to it, and there is.”
“That’s judgmental.”
“How’s it judgmental?”
“Because you don’t know Ben, norBrittanyandWhitney.”
“Neither do you.”
“Correct.”
She frowns at me, pushes her drink aside, and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, something she does when I’m grating her nerves.
Forcing down my pending grin, I try not to stare at her cleavage, which is now elevated in full sight.
“I’m not a nasty person, Riley, if that’s what you’re imply?—”
“I’m not. I?—”
“In fact, I think it’s wrong to use people for their money. But it’s also wrong to use peoplebecauseyou have money.”
“Correct.”
“And isn’t that what that particular ménage à trois—Ben’s words, not mine—are doing?”
“Correct.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“I never said I had one.”
She outright growls at me, like a cub, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re so infuriating. Has anyone ever told you that?”
I lie. “No.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She sips the last of her drink and gestures toward the horizon. “The sun is setting, so I suggest you stop goading me or you’ll miss it.”
Smirking, I nod my thanks, push my chair back, and then exit our small alcove. We step up to the railing out on deck, the sun sinking behind the water, a glorious amber glow warming the sky. I breathe in the unusual peace settling around and within me, finally realizing why Roni wanted me to temporarily hang up my tools and get away—for moments like this, not for sowing my wild oats.
“I haven’t seen a sunset like this in years,” Riles says as she rests her arms on the railing beside me.
“Me neither.”
The wind whips into an invisible lasso, lashing my face and T-shirt. Riles clasps her top, holding it firmly to stop it from flying up and over her head. Her brown hair frantically thrashes about her as loose strands escape her ponytail. Chaotic but beautiful.
“And to be frank,” she gripes, “it pisses me off.”
I go to ask her why, but she answers before I have thechance.
“I’ve missed out on so much because of my boss. Sunrises. Sunsets. Going out with my friends. Shows with my mom. Dates.”
Her reference to dating, or lack thereof, piques my curiosity. “Your boss interferes with your love life? Sounds like an HR issue to me.”
