“We need to get to the airport,” I say slowly and more clearly. As if that will make them magically understand English.
“Aeropuerto,” Harper says.
“Ah. Si,” one of them nods. “Van a perder su vuelo.”
I look at Harper.
“He says the road is closed,” she answers, and I spin back around to the men.
“How long will it take to clear the road? Maybe if they stop talking and start working?—”
“El camino está dañado,”
My eyes ping-pong back over to her. “The road is damaged.”
“No es seguro conducir,”
“It’s not safe to drive on,” she says quietly.
I bite my lip and clench my jaw, making the officer stand up straight. “Is there a problem, señor?” he asks with a thick accent.
“No, no problema,” I say with a forced grin and head back to the car. Harper follows and we both slam our doors shut. I then proceed to back up and turn around.
As we drive back to the villa, neither of us say anything. The silence is suffocating, but speaks volumes. I think we both know the truth.
It is aproblema.
After everything that just happened, I think it’s a hugeproblema.
Chapter 8
Harper
As we pull back up to the villa, our hopes are crushed by the recent events. I realize there is only one thing worse than being stuck in a seaside cabana in a foreign country with a man who kidnapped me from my own wedding. And that is being stuck in a seaside cabana in a foreign country with a man who kidnapped me and says he did it out of love.
Which, by the way, I don’t know if I buy.
The idea of Asher, my brother’s best friend, a guy I’ve known forever, having feelings for me just seems crazy.
It’s not that I don’t find him attractive; I do. A girl would have to be blind not to find him attractive. But I never thought, in all the years of sideways remarks, cocky smirks and strong silence outside of that, that he was actually looking at me. Really looking at me. It’s wild.
And I’m over it.
As soon as we are back inside the villa, I drop my things and let out a sigh. “This is just awesome,” I say, sitting down on my suitcase. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Look on the bright side,” Asher says with little to no amusement in his voice.
“The bright side?” I echo. “I’m sorry, but I’m kind of failing to see one right now.”
Asher grabs an apple off the counter and bites into it with a hard crunch. “That’s because you’re not looking,” he says. Then he rounds the counter and opens the doors wide open. “The storm is gone, and we are in paradise. You are on vacation. No job. No outside world worries. Just food, the beach, and a pool. Go for a swim. Go get a tan. Look for seashells.”
“Look for seashells?” I parrot with as much disgust as I can layer into the words. “We are stuck here. Together. Against our will, and you want me to collect seashells?”
Asher bites into the apple again, and with a nod says, “Yeah.”
I get up from the suitcase and stomp over to the kitchen. “I am not going to collect fucking seashells. People collect seashells when they want to remember a trip. I’d rather forget any of this ever happened. What I am going to do is make myself a stiff drink.”
“When in Rome,” Ash says with a wink, and I glare at him.
