His mouth thinned. "Maybe."
The guy was more transparent than glass, and I couldn't resist tweaking him. "Be a huge relief, huh?"
"Oh, yeah." He coughed up an unconvincing laugh. "I mean, totally."
Just then, my cellphone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to look.Griff.Not a call, but a text.
I looked to the stranger and said, "Sorry, dude, I've gotta take this."
Newsflash. I didn't.But it beat listening to some douchebag lie to both of us about Maisie Pickett – whether he'd referred to her by name or not.
Sure, I had never met her. But she was Tessa's roommate and apparently Griff's boss, which meant I'd be choosing her side over the douche's any day.
The guy gestured toward my phone. "Sure, go ahead."
How magnanimous."So you're sticking around?"
"Well,youare," he said. "Why shouldn't I?"
Just then, a blonde in a tight black dress came striding toward him in stiletto heels. She looked downright livid as she barked out, "Devon!"
Devon froze, looking ready to shit his pants.
She snapped his name again and began marching forward, her heels clicking like a warning.
With a hard swallow, he slowly turned to face her, croaking out, "Oh, there you are. I've been looking all over."
I almost laughed.What a load of bullshit.
Judging from her face, she knew a smoking pile when she heard it. Everything about her screamed expensive – the hair, the dress, and especially the attitude. Her eyes narrowed. "All over? Seriously?"
He rocked back on his heels. "Uh…yeah."
"But whyhere?"She jabbed a manicured finger toward the bike shop. "Is it because ofher?"She said "her" like the woman in question was straddling that Harley bike and giving her the finger.
The douche named Devon let out an exaggerated scoff. "Relax. I don't even know who you mean."
Yup. He was a dumbass, alright.
Sure enough, his lady love went nuclear right there on the sidewalk, bringing up last night, last month, and some chick named Amber from Pilates.
With a shrug, I turned and began walking toward my hotel. As I walked, I read Griff's text."What, no lighter?"
I had no idea what he meant, so I replied with a question mark.
He texted back."The duffel. One candle. No lighter. Asshole."
I smiled.Right.This had to be about his duffel bag.Under the terms of our little wager, all Griff could bring to the island was that one black duffel, prepacked, courtesy of me.
Except I didn't pack it.
Call it a kindness, because ifI'dpacked it, the thing would've been filled with stuff that would only piss him off – like forty pounds of raisins and a framed photo of me.
It would've been funny as hell – until Griff had to walk down Main Street naked because I'd packed him no clothes.
On second thought, that would've been funny, too.
I was still chuckling when I texted him back. "I'll tell her you said so."
