Without warning, I grab a fistful of Keane’s dirty blonde hair and forcefully yank his ear to my lips. “She’s off-limits, fuckface. This is your last warning.”
Keane slaps my arm and pushes my chest and breaks free of my grasp, his face bright red and contorted in shock. “Jesus, Ry. Chill the fuck out.Seriously.” He pulls down his T-shirt and smooths his tousled hair. “I got it, Captain. The girl’s off-limits.No problemo, señor.”
I nod definitively.
Keane flashes a dimpled smile. “But, hey,just out of curiosity, what’s the reason for the off-limits designation? Is it just ’cause she’s Josh’s assistant? ’Cause if that’s the snag, that certainly doesn’t—”
I violently rip the flower lei off Keane’s neck, open my hand in front of his nose, and let the flower petals in my grasp float slowly to the ground. “It’s quite simple, Peeno Noir,” I say. “The girl’s off-limits ’cause I said so.”
Keane laughs. “Jeez, so much for Rum Cake’s ‘aloha spirit,’ huh?”
“I’m not joking, Peen. She’s mine. No room for debate. Roger?”
“Okay, okay. Rabbit.” He pokes my shoulder. “But just tell me this: have you already dabbled with this one or did you just now see her across a crowded room and get struck by some kind of Zander-Shaw-style lightning bolt?”
I glance across the lobby at her, my jaw muscles pulsing. She’s chatting with my cousin Julie and Julie’s new husband (and, holy fuck, does Samantha look un-fucking-believable in that sundress).“I haven’t dabbled yet,” I reply, and decide to leave it at that.
Keane shrugs. “Well, gosh, Captain, if that’s the case, then there’s really no need for an off-limits designation. Sure, we’ve never shared an igloo yet, but that doesn’t—”
I whack Keane across the top of his head again, this time much harder than before, barely suppressing my urge to punch him in his pretty teeth, and he covers his head and yelps.
“I’m joking!” Keane shouts, laughing. “Dude, get a sense of humor. It was ajoke.”
“I have no sense of humor about this one, Keane.”
“Obviously.Jeez.” Keane rubs the side of his head. “Damn, that actually hurt that last time.” He sighs. “Look, gimme some credit, okay? First off, you know I don’t do igloos.” He shudders. “Gross. And, second off, I’m dumb but not stupid. You’ve obviously been struck by some kind of lightning bolt here, and I’d never in a million years try to get in the middle of that. I’m a dick, not an asshole.”
I take a deep breath and try to loosen my fists. “Thanks. Sorry I hit you so hard.”
“No problem. Just lay off the hair next time, would you?” He shakes his head like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “It’s my crowning glory.”
I violently muss his hair and slap his cheek and he leaps away from me, laughing.
“Stop it! Jesus. What’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so violent in all my twenty-two years, and I’m including the time you came at me with a chainsaw.”
“I didn’t come at you with a chainsaw, dumbfuck—it was aFlowbee.”
“Well, whatever. It was a loud, terrifying appliance aimed at my head. Traumatic, by any measure.”
I laugh, despite myself. Fucking Peen. “Just stay away from her, little brother, or I’ll come at you with a chainsaw for real.”
“I already said I’d lay off, fucker. Seriously, take a Valium or something. Your crazy’s hanging out, brah.” He winks, flips me off, and strides toward Zander, who’s currently standing twenty yards away talking to Dax and Dax’s two best friends and bandmates, Colin and Fish. “Come on, boys!” Keane hollers, hoisting the remnants of his broken flower lei into the air. “I gotta get myself lei’d again!”
I spot Samantha in a corner, chatting with that same woman with the clipboard, and stride across the room toward her, my heart racing and my dick tingling.
When I reach her, I wordlessly grip her forearm and lean into her ear, making sure not to let my hard-on graze her hip. “Hey, Argentina,” I whisper hoarsely into her ear, my nose nuzzling into her hair. I inhale her scent and my hard-on turns to steel.“My room in ten, you little sociopath—and don’t be fucking late.”
25
Tessa
“Asshole!” I breathe to myself as I walk. I’m marching along a lovely winding pathway lined with hibiscus and plumeria trees, heading toward Ryan’s room on the far side of the resort, homicidal rage coursing through my veins. “Bastard!”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I look at it. It’s Marnie, my right-hand woman for this week, texting with an update on some guests’ arrivals.
I tap out a quick reply: “Something’s come up. Please handle the next few arrivals for me. Thanks.”
I’m about to shove my phone into my bag when I notice a text from Charlotte from about a half-hour ago: “Hi, Crazy Girl. I know you’re super busy today, but call me when you can. You won’t believe who just called me out of the blue! OMFG!”
