“I’m not finished.” I press a finger to her lips. I won’t sit here and listen to her talk about herself in such disparaging terms. Not when I see her so completely. This trip has been a pain in the ass in more ways than I can count, but it’s opened my eyes to the incredible woman before me. “Your eyes are brown but not the same rich espresso shade as your hair. They’re a deep umber that grows darker, almost black, when you’re angry, and when they catch the light, they soften, revealing a warmth few possess.” Her breath hitches, but she remains silent. “The most fascinating thing I’ve noticed is that when you’re excited or making a snarky comeback to put me in my place, your eyes sparkle, lighting up your entire face. Like they’re doing at this very moment.”
“Oh.”
If the rosy cheeks are any indication, I’ve embarrassed her, but I can’t find it in myself to feel guilty for speaking the truth.
“Perhaps you’ll remember this conversation the next time you want to accuse me of not paying attention.”
She ducks her head and busies herself with a loose thread on the sleeping bag. “You’re seriously not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” I hook a finger under her chin and force her to meet my eyes. “You saw an opportunity, and you seized it. It’s what any good businessperson would do.”
Sure, some people might argue that she exploited me, but I don’t care if she shared my pictures online. We’re friends. And friends share pictures. It’s not like she’s selling them for profit or publishing fictitious bullshit like the Austin gossip rags.
Hell, her content is tame by comparison.
“In fact,” I say, a slow smile curving my lips. “While you were sleeping, I had a brilliant idea.”
“If you do say so yourself.”
“Do you want to hear it or not?”
She sighs and twirls a hand. “Cuénteme.”
“It’s obvious that your followers are invested in…” I gesture back and forth between us, because I’m not entirely sure what they’re invested in other than my bare chest. “You should let them choose our next stop.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “It can’t be any worse than what we’ve been doing.”
Lucy narrows her eyes, and her pupils grow wide. “Are you trying to sabotage me so you can win the bet?”
“I’m not trying to sabotage you.” I rake my hands through my hair. Lucy may look like a goddess, but she’s hands down the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met. “I’m trying to help.”
“Oh, really?” She crosses her arms. “And when did this magnanimous desire to help come over you? When you realized I’m kicking your ass and you’re going to lose the bet?”
“This morning. When I realized you’re serious about becoming a travel influencer.” I roll my eyes, taking a page out of her book. If she thinks this means I’m giving up,shehasn’t been paying attention. “Is that really so hard to believe?”
She arches a brow but says nothing.
Fortunately, I know exactly how to push her buttons, because despite what Lucy believes, she’s got my undivided attention.
“If the Tently endorsement is any indication, you’ll still need a side hustle—like working at Triada—unless you want to spend the rest of your life eating beans and franks.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that any deal negotiated in the span of ten minutes over social media couldn’t have been that lucrative.”
And nothing she says is going to convince me otherwise.
“My platform is growing.” She reaches for her sneakers and slips them on, suddenly in a hurry to escape the confines of the tent. “More followers means more endorsement deals.”
“Exactly. And giving your followers a vested interest in So Savvy Traveler—just this once—will accelerate the process.”
“What’s in it for you?” she asks, unzipping the tent flap. “Why do you want my followers to choose our next destination?”
It’s a good question, but I’m not about to show my hand, so I just give her the hint of a smirk and a wink. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter Nineteen
