Page 4 of The Christmas Cover Rule
Ignoring the way my cheeks heat like a girl with her first crush when he says the wordpleasure, I nod my head.
“I guess a little bit of both. I’m meeting my family for a Christmas vacation.”
“And what’s the business?”
“I have to tell them why my boyfriend won’t be joining us.”
“Ahh.” He nods his head as if he understands what a burden this is on me.
“Want to help me come up with an excuse?” I ask with a little more excitement than I intended.
“Shark bite,” he says without missing a beat.
“In San Francisco?”
“We happen to have one of the top dive spots for great whites in the world.”
This guy is quick with responses. He’s either a Shark Week enthusiast or just really smart.
“I was thinking something more like swallowed by an earthquake. It’s quick and brutal.” I leave ‘and what he deserves’hanging in the air, but Jonas is already shaking his head.
“And all it will take is one simple Google search to make a liar out of you.”
“Good call.”
“How about food poisoning? No one wants to be around someone who can’t decide which end he’s going to expel from.”
My jaw falls open again because imagining it is both good and horrifying at the same time. I try to say something, but a laugh bubbles out of me instead.
Jonas drops his head back with an easy smile and runs his hand down the leg of his pants. “What really happened to him? Had a hard time waking up for a six a.m. flight?”
I strum my teeth along my bottom lip, going over every second of the last two days.
“More like he had a hard time not sleeping with other women,” I say, surprisingly steady.
“Oh shit.” Jonas looks genuinely taken aback. “Stella, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I shrug, slapping on a forced smile. “Nothing some of my mom’s Vicks VapoRub won’t be able to cure.”
CHAPTER 3
jonas
My god. The humidity hits me harder than Joe Frazier working for a payday.
When I’m forced to fly commercial, I always bring my suitcase as a carry-on. I’m a fairly patient man, but there’s something about waiting for luggage to come around the carousel that I just can’t deal with.
I make my way through the open-air airport, skip the baggage check, and spot a man holding a sign that readsH.P. Jonas.
I smile as I approach him. “How’s it going, Boss?”
“Mr. Jonas?”
I nod my head in confirmation.
“I’m Andres. From The Caribbean Splendor Resort. Do you have everything you need?”
“I could use a Presidente, but I’ll save that for once I’m checked in.”
