Page 73 of The Unfluencer

And Whitney was sitting there, tear-streaked and beautiful as ever, looking like she needed me to tell her everything would be okay. How could I not kiss her?

Just once.

“Damn, I messed that shit up,” I mutter.

“Oh my goodness. You were having a panic attack.” The bright, rhythmic lilt of Nacheline’s Haitian accent thickens the way it always does when she’s excited. “I read about a woman. She had a heart attack and swore she spoke to her mother who’d passed years before.”

Oh.

I narrow my gaze slightly. “Uh… this was a little different.”

That’s not at all what this was.

Looking at Whitney, in that moment, it felt like a huge existential slap, waking me up. Being with this woman, feeling emotions I haven’t felt since even before Sherry passed—why would I jeopardize a chance to be close to this woman for something as insignificant as meaningless sex and Legends tickets? For bragging rights?

“Nacheline, let me keep going,” I say, needing to get this out.

She purses her lips—hopefully holding back whatever story’s on the tip of her tongue that she just has to get out.

But then she nudges the door until there’s only a thin crack, and turns, giving me her undivided attention.

“And then we kissed,” I finally say, watching, reading her reaction.

Wordlessly, my estate manager of ten years, who’s pushing sixty and has a dozen children of her own, calmly walks over to the door and peeks out. I’m assuming the coast’s clear, because she shuts it and lets out a shrill scream before she literally jumps for joy.

“Oh, my sweet Jesus. I was so worried about you.”

Tenderly, she presses a velvety hand to her chest, eyes watering, warm brown skin crinkling under a smile as wide as the day is long.

Wait, why?

“Mr. Warner, it’s been so long since I done seen you on this island. I heard you were planning on selling Clover Cay. Didn’t want nothing to do with this place after Sherry passed on.” She sighs, deeply. “Hurt me to my heart, truly. And I know it wasn’t all good memories, but this place is where your heart blooms. Be such a shame to lose it. You’re such a great husband.”

All I hear is Cord’s told you so.

Great husband.

My mind backpedals, stalling as she continues, “We’ve all been praying for you to find love again.”

“Listen, you’ve got it all wrong.” A shaky laugh tumbles out of me. Praying for me? Love? “Did you hear what I said? Our plane’s landing gear malfunctioned. We pretty much skidded to a stop until we reached the tip of the runway. We were a few feet from being submerged. That sort of thing will make you do crazy things to calm your nerves, you know?”

Nacheline absolutely doesn’t know.

She’s still beaming, and I can’t even blame her because it sounds ridiculous, even thinking I’m falling for a woman I met twice and kissed once.

“Uh-huh.” She covers her heart with her hand. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m tickled. This is just like that movie…”

“What movie?” I half laugh.

Nacheline snaps her fingers. “The one with the romance book writer and the cover model. She writes all kinds of stories about adventure and exotic places.” Please let there be a point. She tilts her soft gaze at me. “But then there’s an evil billionaire who read one of books with an ancient town and decided she must know where it is. So he kidnaps her⁠—”

“I’m sorry, wait.” Exotic places? Kidnapping? A cover model? “What does this have to do with Whitney and me?” I ask.

She looks at me like I must be dense.

“Don’t you see, he loves her.” Nacheline’s crisp, clipped consonants hit hard as she tosses up her hands. “That’s why he had to go rescue her in the jungle. It’s adventure.”

I don’t know, maybe I am dense because… what?