Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  She cleared her throat. “You know, your parts of the blog and your personal letter to consumers will be more meaningful if you actually visit these places, too, and love them. That will come out in your words. You’ll be that much more convincing.”

  “Fine.” He blew out a breath. “I will come to the llama place with you.”

  “And if you behave nicely, I’ll throw in a lesson at the Bondurant racing school.”

  His eyes lit up. “What does it mean to behave nicely?” He stepped in and she felt her heart pound.

  “In a way that… satisfies me.” She couldn’t look away from his eyes.

  “And how might I do that?” His voice was low.

  She swallowed. “Um. By… being polite and enjoying the day. Doing what I say.”

  “Doing what you say?” A small smile hovered on his lips. “Do tell.”

  “Zach!” She reached out to slap his arm, a tease, but ended up touching and grabbing for a second, feeling sparks. “For my itinerary.”

  “Your itinerary.” He smirked, then stepped backwards and took a breath. “Fine. You drive.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “So, this store is dedicated to llamas?” Harper smiled brightly. Zach was waiting outside the shop, talking to Leilani in Hawaii, and she’d ventured in alone, into the wooden shack-like structure with a huge, ten-foot tall llama painted on the rustic side.

  “That’s right.” The woman behind the counter nodded, not looking up from the thick yarn she wound deftly from hand to hand. “Arizona llamas.”

  “I didn’t know they were endemic to Arizona.”

  “They are not.” The woman was wearing a brightly colored vest that looked like something Harper would envision in an upscale catalogue selling handcrafted things from Nepal and Peru. She was in her sixties, and her eyes were a brilliant blue in a wrinkled face topped with a white cap of hair.

  Harper was itchy to photograph her. “I see.”

  “They should be, beautiful things.” The woman coughed. “If I had my way, I’d fill the wild plains with them. You’re heard of the Salt River wild horses, right?”

  “No.”

  “Wild horses. Horses that live in the wild.”

  “Well, yes, that makes sense. But here?” She looked around the shop. “In Phoenix?”

  “Not here in the city. By the Salt River.” The woman nodded toward the window, although no river was visible through it.

  “Can I photograph you for an article I’m writing?” Harper tapped her camera, patted it like a baby. “I’m Harper Grainger, and I’m here visiting from Chicago. I’d love to feature you on the Travel On site.”

  “Is the article about llamas?”

  “It’s about Phoenix.”

  “Some yuppie magazine?” The woman eyed Harper’s camera. “Millennials and all that.”

  “It’s for a travel site. I’d like to showcase some of the unique and quirky places around Phoenix.”

  “Oh, I’m quirky now,” the woman announced to the stuffed llama beside her. “You hear that?” She glanced at Harper, then put down the yarn in a careful two-loop stack, and stuck out her hand. “My name’s Elle. Van Der Haven.”

  “Elle, it’s so nice to meet you. I have a release form and description here. May I show it to you?”

  At the woman’s nod, Harper slid a release form across the counter.

  Elle scanned it. “You won’t pay me, I suppose.”

  “No, but I’ll forward you a copy of the blog post and the website once the article goes up. It might be good for business.”

  “I suppose.” Elle stood up, shaking out her hands and adjusting her neck. “I should probably get Harold, then. He’ll want to be in the picture, too.” She put both hands flat onto the wooden counter and suddenly screamed without turning her head. “Harold!”

  Harper flinched, hand on her camera, and then turned to studiously examine a throw pillow in gray, with red letters: Como se above a red printed llama.

  “Get it?” Elle laughed. “Como se llama means what’s your name in Spanish? So como se, and then the picture of the llama. I designed that myself. Harold loves them, of course. He always wants to sit by the blue one on the couch.”

  “Okay. Cool.”

  “And this here.” The woman came out from behind the counter. “This pin is a ballama. See? Part banana, part llama. Adorable.”

  Harper did like the ballama. “I might get one for my friend,” she said.

  “Well, pick out the one with the cutest face,” Elle ordered. “They all have their own personality. I’m just going to get fetch Harold, then, since he’s apparently not going to come on his own.”

  A moment later, a chuffing, clumping sound ensued from the back room. “Come on over here,” called Elle. “Harold’s in a bit of a mood. You can take our picture in the hallway.”

  Harper bit her lip. “I can do that, it’s just that I, you know, thought it would be nice to get the store behind you two, for ambience.”

  No reply, just more clumping sounds, so Harper shrugged and flipped up her flash. “Well, I guess I’ll be right there.” She made her way through the shop to the back wooden door that led to the hallway.

  Elle stood there, and beside her was Harold, attached to a woven red and purple leash. Harold was a llama.

  “This is Harold.” Elle narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t much like you. See how he’s stamping his front left foot? That’s how you can tell. It’s obvious. He thinks you’re pretentious and he doesn’t trust that you’re going to write a realistic article.”

  Harper cleared her throat. “Aha. I see. Well, please let him know that I have the, ah, greatest respect for what you’ve both done here.” She waved one hand back toward the shop. “Really phenomenal. And his choice of blue for the pillow, I’m really feeling that. Really feeling it. Yup.”

  Elle adjusted Harold’s lead in her hand. “He prefers to be photographed from the left. But I suppose this will do.”

  Oh, it will do all right. Harper wanted to dance. Jesus motherfucking motherlode of all motherlodes. Nobody got stuff this quirky—nobody! She was going to couple this llama stuff along with a five-star hip restaurant, and a desert cactus tour, and Mexican culture. By the time she was done? She’d have the airport selling out of tickets to visit this crazy, amazing town.

  She snapped a few pictures, excited at the fortuitous resemblance of the woman and Harold to the American Gothic painting. “So, Harold sometimes hangs out in the shop? He doesn’t knock things over?”

  “He does knock things over when there are unpleasant visitors.” Elle wrinkled her lip. “He’s choosy.”

  “So you mentioned… he likes a blue pillow on his couch. He doesn’t live… in your house… does he?”

  “Please. Harold lives in his own air-conditioned shed in back. He has a low, llama-sized couch, his own television, and art on the walls. He could hardly be comfortable in a full-sized human home.” The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Of course he does.” Why wasn’t Zach in here yet? The truth was that she couldn’t be sure this was real. It was too insane. If only some other person was here to pinch her. “Can I see Harold’s home, and photograph him relaxing there, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” Elle tilted her head in a noncommittal bobble. “If he’s acquiescent.”

  “Do you get a lot of customers?”

  Elle blinked. “I’m on one of the ‘Top Off The Road Stops In Phoenix’ tours. I get busloads of Japanese tourists every week. Also, I get a lot of casino traffic. So I’d say yes.”

  “Good for you.”

  “But many of my sales are online,” Elle added. “Etsy and eBay.” She rubbed Harold’s head. “And my Facebook and Twitter are off the hook.”

  “Oh, they are?” Harper stifled a smile. “I’ll be sure to discuss that in the article.”

  “Harold has his own fan page,” Elle confided. “It’s an advice page, called ‘Ask Harold the Llama.’ People write in with questions, and Harold answers
them.”

  Harper was sure she’d died and gone to journalistic heaven. “Oh my God. Can I—what’s the link?” She slung her camera strap over her shoulder, grabbed her phone and found the page, with a great big picture of Harold wearing a top hat.

  “Oh, I see.” She read aloud: “Dear Harold the Llama, should I quit college (I have a scholarship) and tour California with my new boyfriend? He’s a drummer and he’s so hot and sexy, and I just know we’re soulmates. But he has needs and can’t wait for me if I don’t go with him. But I understand, because he’s really sensitive and deep and also I hate my classes.”

  She looked up. “Wow. So, how will Harold answer that one?”

  Elle slid an iPhone out of her vest pocket and typed rapidly. In a few minutes, a reply popped up.

  Harper cleared her throat. “Dear Confused, Yes. Drop out of everything to follow this lad of yours around the dive bars of California. You will learn about the location of clean rest stops and free clinics [geography], the acquisition and avoidance of STDs [science], how to make five dollars last for a week of dinners [economics] and finally, heartbreak and betrayal [psychology]. The learnings you obtain for the three months of your grand journey will give you experience well beyond your years, and will surely be worth the loss of your scholarship and the everlasting ire of your family.

  “P.S. If you do decide to go back someday for traditional education, may I suggest Bard College at Simon’s Rock? Their mascot is a llama.”

  She looked up. “Interesting advice.”

  Elle nodded. “On ‘Haiku Tuesdays,’ Harold gives all of his advice in the five-seven-five format.”

  Harper scanned.

  “Dear Harold the Llama, my mother says I should leave a plate of folded hand towels in my guest bathroom so each guest may have a disease-free washing experience. I think one towel is sufficient, and they can all share it. Who’s right?”

  She looked up. “Fair question. And here’s the answer.”

  All a guest will need:

  Plentiful toilet paper

  And a door that locks

  “HEY, HARPER, I FINALLY MADE IT.” Zach came in and stood beside her.

  “Zach, I’d like to introduce you to someone really special. This is Elle Van Der Haven, and her, um, and Harold.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Elle gave Zach a pleased smile.

  Harold made a sound. One could describe the sound as something like a cross between a scream and the death of a whistle. He rose to his back feet, pawing the air violently with his front hooves, then snuffled and launched himself toward Zach.

  “Whoa! Whoa there!” Zach put up his hands and stepped back, although not in time to avoid a collision with Harold’s large, wet mouth. “Okay! Okay, buddy, okay. Elle! Can you—okay there, ah, Harold. Good boy. Down.”

  Elle pulled the leash, and Harold reluctantly broke away from the embrace. “He likes you.” Elle cleared her throat and tilted her head at Harper. “He doesn’t like everyone. So it’s a compliment.”

  “I see.” Zach wiped his face and looked hard at Harper. “May I have a word with you, in private?” He scowled and pointed to the door.

  “Sure!” Harper smiled. “This is my boss, Elle, so I’ll just duck out for a quick minute.”

  “Harper, what the hell?” Zach crossed his arms. “You pulled me out of a meeting so I could be assaulted by an oversized goat? The therapy bills alone are going to be astronomical.” He looked at his pants, and wrinkled his mouth. “Not to mention the cleaning bill.”

  “Yeah. That’s why you should buy non-dry-clean things only,” encouraged Harper. “Makes it easier. Also, Harold’s not a goat.”

  “I don’t think it matters what he is, but how I’m going to get his nasty slobber out of my shirt before my next meeting? I hadn’t planned to stop back at the hotel.”

  “Not to worry. Elle has T-shirts here in your size. May I recommend the one that says ‘But first, llama take a selfie’? I think it will go great with your shoes.”

  Zach sighed. “I have to admit, this place is exactly what I wanted when I asked for local color.”

  “Right?” Excited, Harper grabbed his arm. “It’s incredible. It’s like a fucking gold mine in there, Zach. I’m dying. This is so perfect.”

  “What’s that bus?”

  A huge luxury vehicle pulled up, air brakes hissing, pneumatics whooshing as it stepped itself down for easier exit. A sign on the side read “Happy Phoenix Lucky Tour Company.”

  “Oh, Elle mentioned she’s on a route.”

  “A route?”

  “She’s got some tour company to put her on their stops, right after a casino trip.”

  The doors opened, disgorging a stream of Japanese tourists. Shiny purses, high heels: The group was full of mostly young people, and all of them were heading right for Elle’s front door.

  Zach cleared his throat. “I can’t help but notice that many of these tourists are dressed like anime characters.”

  “Yeah, I see that too. Very cute. Let’s go back in the shop. I need pictures of this.” Brandishing her camera in one hand, Harper headed back, laser-focused on the store, excitement in her fingertips.

  Inside, she barely knew which way to turn first. Should she snap pictures of the two girls dressed like Hatsune Miku, each kissing the cheek of a stuffed llama and giving huge smiles for a selfie-stick picture? Or perhaps the girl with Hello Kitty everything, who was cooing to Harold while he ate the straw Pokémon-shaped purse of the woman behind her? Maybe the older couple, impeccably dressed in a suit and fine dress and elegant shoes, not a hair out of place, not a drop of sweat even in this 110F heat? How about all of them?

  Zach made his way through the melee. “This is like a Comic-Con convention.”

  “Llama-con, more like it. Elle really works it. Watch her go.”

  Elle easily moved through the crowd, grousing and explaining, her mix of vinegar and quirk clearly captivating everyone in the group. The shelves magically emptied as purchases piled up and the crowd dispersed back to the bus, stopping to tour Harold’s House, which was open for visitors.

  A few women remained, looking over the T-shirts and mugs, one of them dressed in a tiny skirt, all plaid, her hair in braids, her legs gorgeous and long. She kept shooting glances at Zach and giggling with her friend, and Harper felt a pang of envy when she noticed Zach noticing. She rolled her eyes when he walked up to the girls with a smile, and felt like vomiting when he greeted them in what sounded like fluent Japanese.

  The girls laughed, high tinkly sounds, and the one eyeing him smoothed her hair back. Her eyes, mysterious and lined with kohl, were gorgeous. Her skin, flawless. Harper felt sweaty and large in her jeans and hair escaping a bun. She bit her lip and looked away, out the window, to where the river and horses were not, seeing but not focusing on the bus and the milling passengers.

  A sound from Harold made her whirl around; Harold reared up, making that horrible death sound, and pulled on his leash.

  “Harold, no!” Elle sounded displeased. “That man has the right to talk to whomever he pleases. Let’s go outside.”

  Harold narrowed his eyes and glared at Zach, and if she didn’t know better, Harper might think the animal was also jealous of the girl. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy.

  The girl giggled and her eyes widened and she pointed. A particular part of Harold’s anatomy was showing as he reared up, and it was long. Very long. The two girls doubled over when Zach said something to them in Japanese.

  Elle got Harold settled, and Harper tried not to frown when the girl pulled out her phone and Zach pulled out his phone and smiles and probably numbers and promises were exchanged.

  Elle snorted. “You coming?” She pointed to the door. “We could use a hand.”

  “Of course.” Harper tried to keep any note of irritation from her voice as she held the door open for Elle and Harold. “I’m just so entirely happy to help.”

  “Walk with me.” Elle pointed to Harold’s House. “I�
��m going to get him settled in with lunch now that the tour’s about over. By the way, your friend back there? He told those women that they hadn’t seen anything yet, when Harold showed his goods.”

  “Ugh. Gross.” Harper kicked at a piece of gravel.

  “They seemed to think it was funny.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they thought that.” She kicked another bit of gravel.

  “Harold really liked that man. Zach, right?”

  “Everyone likes Zach.” She crossed her arms, even though it was a million degrees out. “Even male llamas, apparently.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “But cute girls are his specialty.”

  Zach chose that moment to come out of the house, the girls close behind. He called out to her. “Harper, you ready to head out? I need to get to my next meeting.”

  “Yes, sure. Elle, may I come back this week to get a few more pictures?”

  “Any time, Harper. Any time.”

  CHAPTER 11

  A fter spending the entire next day sweating off her sunscreen and taking close-ups of cacti, shaded pictures of strange desert blooms, reflections of the high noon sun off the shattering blue of the pool, and then shots of some of the dinner specials against a white backdrop in the dining room, Harper was sweaty and hot. The shower felt amazing, and she put on a pretty tank top and jeans to meet Zach for dinner at the restaurant. Conversation flowed easily, and afterwards, they talked to Jeremy for a few minutes in the lobby.

  “So you want to do the desert evening tour?” The hotel manager gestured toward the huge plate glass windows that highlighted the setting sun. “We usually see a lot of local wildlife. I have a volunteer from the Desert Botanical Garden to guide and look. Carlos. He’s amazing.”

  “What kind of wildlife?”

  “Usually we see bats, tarantulas, scorpions, owls. Sometimes Bobby comes around. He’s the local bobcat.”

  Harper pressed her hand into her stomach. “Like, a person dressed in a suit, you mean? Like a mascot? Or perhaps a stray cat.”