Then again, FinTech isn’t all that sexy. As long as the apps are working flawlessly, no one cares what we have to say.
I pause when I get to a picture of the rabbit ranch. It’s a pic of Nibbles and me, taken right after the bird dropped his little gift on my shoulder. Judging by the exponential spike in likes and comments, this is the post that put So Savvy Traveler on the map.
I’ll be damned.
Lucy’s gone viral.
Looks like the bird brought good luck after all.
Just not for me.
I scroll back to the top of her profile and click on the picture from last night. The comments are coming in so fast I can’t keep up. A lot of them are just a string of emojis—heart eyes, hot peppers, eggplants—but there are plenty of innuendos, too. And more than a few comments asking for the deets on our sleepover.
I chuckle.
Leave it to Lucy to make the Mother Road sexy.
The woman is a fucking genius.
“What are you doing?” Lucy asks, staring up at me as she rubs sleep from her eyes.
“Just checking out Instagram.”
She bolts upright. “That’s my phone!”
“It was blowing up. I was going to silence it so you could sleep a little longer.” I sit up and hand her the phone, not bothering to close the app. “But curiosity got the better of me.”
She glances down at the screen, and her hair tumbles forward, the loose waves shielding her face.
“Nice work, by the way.”
When Lucy finally lifts her chin, it’s with an air of defiance. “All is fair in bets and social media.”
“Is that so?” I quirk a brow, pressing my lips into a flat line.
“Yes. Besides, I wasn’t about to sit back and let you win. Your ego is big enough already.”
I clutch a hand to my heart. “You wound me.”
“Somehow, I doubt it.” She sighs and tucks her hair behind her ears. “No one gave a damn about the historic sites or my travel tips, but once I posted your picture? Well, let’s just say the internet proved once and for all that pretty people get all the attention.”
I go still. There’s something in the tone of her voice—a vulnerability I’ve never heard before—that strikes me.
“Is that what you really think?” I ask quietly.
“It’s what I know. If you’re not gorgeous, you’re invisible.” She laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “It’s been that way my whole life.”
“Lucy, you’re beautiful. If the internet can’t see it, well, fuck that noise.”
Her eyelids snap closed. “What color are my eyes, Miles?”
The question throws me. Not because I don’t have an answer but because she really believes she’s invisible. Believes that after two years of working together, I don’t even know her eye color. That I’m so self-absorbed I haven’t noticed her.
The realization stings.
“Your eyes are brown, Lucy.”
She opens her eyes, and there’s a beat of surprise before she says, “Exactly. Boring bro—”
