Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Iris looks incredulous. “I thought you said people flinging don’t talk about the fling.”
“Well, yeah.” I clear my throat. “Things are going really well, though, so I figured maybe I should clarify things anyway. Just, you know, to keep things crystal clear. For both of us. So nobody gets hurt.”
Iris snickers. “You’re not the only one with moving parts, remember?” She giggles. “As far as I’m concerned, ‘What happens in Kauai stays in Kauai’ is my mantra this week. That’s all I can offer you, too. To put it mildly.”
She’s rendered me speechless. That’s objectively the best possible response. The one I should want to hear. And I do. Although maybe not that emphatically.
“Great,” I murmur. “That’s good.”
Iris rolls her eyes. “God knows I’m the last person who should be thinking about dating anyone, especially long-
distance.” She pats my arm. “I’m just using you for hot sex, baby. You saw the video and read the comments. I’m a wanton hussy. A slut. A man-eater. We’re all good.”
I can’t help cracking up with her. Not to mention, sighing with relief that Iris seems to be taking all those horrible comments in stride so quickly. “So, listen,” I say. “Besides playing golf with my friend on Friday, I’m totally free this week. I’d love to plan a bunch more dates for us, if you’d like.”
“I’d love to spend as much time with you as possible, but you don’t have to plan any more elaborate dates. Today was expensive, Roman. Save your money.”
I resist the urge to smirk. “Don’t worry about that. I want to show you a good time. But only if that sounds good to you.”
Iris slides her palm onto my bare stomach. “That sounds like heaven to me.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” I lean in and kiss her, feeling oddly unsettled. Logically, I should be elated that went so smoothly—that there are no crossed wires or miscommunications about how and when this brief affair will end. But strangely, I find myself feeling a touch . . . what is that? Disappointed? Couldn’t Iris have at least pouted or frowned a bit when I expressly drew a proverbial line in the sand?
I sit up and hand Iris the room service menu off the nightstand. “While I go out to find that damned ice bucket and get us some ice, order a shit ton of food for us.”
“What do you want?”
I start throwing on clothes. “Anything and everything that looks good to you. Surprise me.”
“What’s your budget?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
She rolls her eyes. “Tell me, so I don’t spend too much.”
“That’s not possible. Have fun. Surprise me.”
After watching me for a long beat, Iris rises onto her elbows. “I’m sorry to ask a question that might ruin the vibe here, but do you promise Cameron on your phone is your work partner, and not your wife or girlfriend?”
My heart squeezes. My God, this poor girl has been through it.
I stop what I’m doing and sit on the bed. “I’m as single as a man can possibly be. I swear it on my life. Cameron’s been my best friend since college, and we’re in business together.”
Iris visibly relaxes. “Thank you. Sorry. I’m paranoid.”
“Understandably.” I look around for my phone. “Do you want to see a photo of Cameron? We played golf a couple weeks ago and I think—”
“No, no, I believe you. I just got a weird feeling for a second, so I decided to be bold and ask, rather than keeping my freak-out to myself.”
“Good. Never shy away from speaking your mind with me or anyone else.” I find my shoes and sit on the edge of the bed to put them on. “Did I do something to give you a weird feeling?”
Iris shrugs. “Not specifically. All of a sudden, I just got this paranoid feeling you’re lying to me about something. But it’s fine. It’s gone now. You’ve promised you’re single, and I believe you.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Should I tell her now?
Am I doing more harm than good by keeping a low profile?
“Roman?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
No. I can’t do it. I’m having way too much fun getting to know her without “Roman Maguire” getting in the way. “Yeah, I’m great. Just trying to remember where I put the damned ice bucket.”
Iris giggles again. “Well, you’d better figure it out soon, because Momma needs a spiced rum punch.”
Chapter 19
Iris
I let out a playful tsk and poke Roman in the ribs. “This isn’t a boat.”
We’re walking hand in hand toward the purported “boat” Roman arranged for our snorkeling/jet-skiing/lunch-and-dinner/sunset-booze-cruise date today—and it’s now abundantly clear Roman grossly understated the size of the vessel we’ll be boarding today.
By now, though—at the start of our fourth full day together—I probably should have expected this kind of downplaying spin and humble generosity from Roman. I swear, he’s made me feel like a princess in a fairy tale all week.