by Kim Linwood
The departure date on the ticket is in big bold letters to make sure I don’t forget. I’ve read it over and over, ever since I received it in the mail, registered. At least ten times a day. June 26th at 2:05 PM.
Tomorrow.
I’ll pick up the night train from Port Kent, and wake up in New York City. Get myself to Newark airport, and then I’m off. I can’t quite believe this is happening.
Will he recognize me? I’m screwed if he does. Not to mention that it would be the second most humiliating moment of my life. Fitting, since the first was thanks to him too, but a lot happens between eighteen and twenty-five.
When he last saw me, I was a naive teenager with curly brown hair and pimples. My frizzy bob has been replaced with sleek red locks that hang down past my shoulders. Colored contacts turn my brown eyes green, and I doubt he’d connect my pale complexion with the golden tan I had for most of our life together.
He’s not the lean boy he used to be, and I’m not the scrawny tomboy who used to climb trees and dive for lost treasure.
I’m pretty confident Hunter won’t recognize me, and if everything goes to plan, he’ll never know what hit him. It’s simple. The show gets me into the house, and once I’m there, I can find what I need to prove they cheated us. The original deed is there, inside the frame of an old map of the island. I just have to find it.
So simple, and so impossible at the same time.
I’m no super spy, but I’ll do whatever it takes. Nobody else will be as determined, because none of the other girls will be playing for such high stakes. Forget love and mimosas on the terrace. My future and my mother’s health are on the line.
Sorry, Hunter. You and your father are going down.
2
Hunter
“This was a really stupid fucking idea.” I drop into a deck chair overlooking the beach, still dripping from my swim.
Danny has an ice cold beer waiting for me on the table, and I nearly drain it in one long gulp before relaxing back into my seat. A couple of gulls squawk as they fly by, but other than that, the afternoon is quiet, the only sound the soft rush of the ocean washing over the white sand and the low hum of insects in the jungle.
The quiet isn’t going to last.
This is it. The last time for over a month that I get to be myself and not Mr. Moneybags McBachelor. The TV crew is already crawling over the island, setting up cameras and planning the theoretical demise of my single life, but tomorrow is when it really starts.
Tomorrow the women arrive.
Ten fame-seeking attention whores who are willing to give up their dignity in exchange for a free vacation and a chance at the spotlight. They have to know there’s not going to be a wedding at the end of this. I’ve seen these shows before. I’m more likely to get hit by lightning than meet the woman of my dreams during this ratings sham.
“I’m sorry, Sir?” Danny’s crisp English accent has just the right amount of uppity disdain, perfect for pretending to be my butler, in stark contrast to my own which has never quite figured out where it’s from, but sounds mostly like my father’s broad American speech. Of course, with Danny’s unruly red hair and a grin that always spells trouble, he looks more like a Weasley than a well-bred gentleman, but it’s never stopped him from landing his fair share of women.
I flip him off. “Oh, shut up. You sound ridiculous.”
He smirks. “Practice makes perfect, Sir. I’d hate to be remiss in my duties.”
“Your only duty is to make this circus bearable.”
Danny pulls a small hand towel from his pocket and pretends to dust off his chair before sitting down. “Lighten up. You know they’ll expect me to sound like Jeeves or a bleeding extra from Downton Abbey.”
I suppose being a pain in the ass is what best friends are for. “You’re giving these girls way too much credit if you think they’ll notice the difference.”
“I’m sure your future wife will be quite impressed.”
“What the fuck do I need a wife for?” God knows that’s true. A short flight gets me to San Juan, St. Martin, St. Thomas, wherever. If you have a trust fund and a private plane and still can’t get laid in the Caribbean, your cause is lost. I get all the pussy I want for free, and I don’t have to bring it home with me.
“Don’t ask me. You’re the one who agreed to do the show.”
I take a long drag out of my beer and lean back. “Only because my father sunk all his money into that network. I’ve been putting him off for the last year, but he’s my dad, you know?”
“To fucking family, but not you know, fucking family,” Danny says with a laugh, raising his beer.
We clink bottles.
My father. I love him, but he’s an asshole.
The only good investments he ever made were marrying my mother, and taking over this island. So I suppose he has good taste in women, or at least good taste in women that can get him something. Considering both his ex-wives hate his guts, they might not agree.
History is repeating itself, because he used everything he had left after my mother ditched him—us—into fixing this place up. If it wasn’t for the fund her family set up for me, we wouldn’t still be here. I let him feel like he still has a say, but as soon as I turned twenty-five, everything switched over to being in my name.
Which is why he needs me so badly.
“I don’t suppose he’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart?”
I laugh, nearly sending foam right out my nose. “There is no goodness in his heart. If you were there the day he kicked my stepmother Irene and her daughter off this place… It was fucking cruel. Even for him.”
The look on my stepsister’s face that day still haunts me. Her mother was as much of a bitch as my father was an asshole, so I can’t say I mourned her loss much, but Liz? She was the one bright note in a childhood full of empty privilege.
Danny interrupts my train of thought, which is probably for the best. “What happened to them?”
“They took a bunch of money and never looked back.” Except once. The one time I gave in to my curiosity and tracked Liz down. But the chickenshit I was at nineteen, I’d been too scared to find out if her feelings had changed.
Because mine hadn’t. Not since the day we shared our first kiss.
“Fucking hell, I can’t imagine leaving this behind.”
I can’t either. “They didn’t have much choice. Land rich, money poor. The estate was here, but it was falling apart. By the time things went bad, it was more ours than theirs.”
Danny shrugs. I can tell he doesn’t approve, but neither did I.
Unfortunately, at sixteen there was fuck-all I could do about it. The past is in the past. They’ve probably moved on. Irene always hated being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere anyway.
I toss my empty bottle into a basket off to the side. “Well, there’s nothing in the rules that says I have to marry one of them. I just pretend I’m interested, bang the girls for what they’re worth, and in a month or so I can say, ‘Nope. Sorry. Have a nice flight.’” I shrug.
He raises an eyebrow while cocking his head slightly, but all he says is, “Of course, Sir. Will there be anything else?”
He wants to be my fucking butler, I’ll treat him like one. “Another beer, Jeeves.”
“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.” He laughs as he walks out, soon returning with two more bottles, one for me and one he keeps.
“Thanks. And thanks for coming out for this. Seriously. Me against a gaggle of gold-diggers? I’m going to need backup.”
Danny laughs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here for the T and A.”
“Yeah? Well, you traveled a long way to get it.”
“A free holiday surrounded by women who are going to need comforting? Truly a hardship for the ages.” He grins and slaps me on the shoulder.
Two misfits thrown together at a boarding school that didn’t really want either of us, our friendship runs deep. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather h
ave with me in this mess.
I’ll need him, because the next few weeks are going to be crazy. Instead of flying to St. Thomas or San Juan to pick up a girl or two for the night, I’ll be surrounded by them here, and there’s no shipping them off in the morning.
Who knows? Maybe one will even catch my fancy.
Unlikely.
Shading my eyes from the sun, I look out over my beach. Yeah, sure I’ve got problems, but they’re about as first world as they get. I might as well try to relax.
Tomorrow’s going to be a fucking madhouse.
3
Liz
— Ten years ago —
“Hey Liz. Over here.” My head snaps towards the voice, an inappropriate thrill running up my spine.
I guess that’s the downside of living on a private island—the only guy my age is my stepbrother, and seriously hot on top of that. Sometimes it’s really easy to forget we’re sorta-related.
He whistles, and I jump to attention like a puppy. I hate myself for it, but not enough to stop. Especially since lately I don’t think I’m the only one feeling this way. Sometimes I catch him looking at me. When he sees I’ve noticed, he tries to cover it up by teasing me, but he doesn’t fool me.
I blow a curl out of my eyes while I roll them. The whole thing is just a fantasy. It’s not like we’re going to actually do anything. We’d get in so much trouble.
“Lizzie? Where are you going?” Mom’s voice is just a little too loud and a little too slow. She’s already hit the cocktails this morning. I try to dash out the door before she can make things worse, but it’s too late. Standing up on the terrace, she glares down at me. Her rich brown eyes that she passed down to me are muddy and bloodshot. Her mouth is twisted in distaste. “Are you running off with that boy again?”
“God, Mom. He just wants to show me something.” Even as I say it, I see her eyes narrow and I realize how bad that sounds. I didn’t even mean it that way.
“Mmhmm, of course he does. Watch out for him. He’s as much trouble as his father,” she sniffs before turning away, disappearing behind the balustrade with a huff.
I wish she wouldn’t do that.
The drinking. The picking on Hunter. All of it.
I don’t get why she and my stepfather even got hitched. They didn’t seem to care much about each other even when they got married, and it hasn’t gotten any better since. They don’t even spend time together. All he does is work on his plans for my island, and all she does is drink and find things to complain about.
Everything was better before they moved in.
Except Hunter.
“You coming or what?” Hunter’s voice is a rushed whisper, right next to me, making me jump. I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice him come close.
He grabs my hand, engulfing my fingers in his much larger palm. My stomach tingles, like it always does when he’s close. “You gotta see this.”
He darts towards the back of the estate, pulling me along until we hit the edge of the lawn and duck into the jungle. As usual, he’s wearing a loose pair of shorts and nothing else. I love watching his lean muscles flex as he runs.
When he moved here three years ago, we were hardly more than kids. I was just getting bumpy and he was still skinny as a rail. But now? Maybe it’s just the isolation talking, but Hunter at sixteen could give any of the pretty boys in my magazines a run for their money.
He’s so perfect it’s unfair. I love the way his blond hair flutters behind him, always a little too long. He’s got this little head toss to get it out of the eyes, and I think it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Selfishly, I hope he never leaves, because if he does, he’ll find out that there are better things out there than pimply girls with too many curls up top and too few curves down below.
But here, I’m more than that. I’m a pirate princess, worthy of even the handsomest island prince.
I’m getting too far behind, so I push the childish thoughts out of my mind. Fifteen is way too old to be dreaming about pirates and princes.
He’d laugh if he knew what I was thinking, and that would kill me.
I scramble through the thick underbrush. I’m not a natural athlete like him, but I can more than hold my own here. This place was my playground. Every spare moment after my lessons was spent climbing trees, jumping gorges and exploring every inch of my domain.
Hunter loves it too, but he doesn’t know the island as well as I do. He’s only been here a few years. I’ve been here my whole life. Some days I feel like I know every step, every leaf, every hole in our little forest. I’m on a first name basis with every dragonfly, butterfly and tarantula on the island.
But not the snakes. No way, no how.
We’re almost at Fool’s Drop, as Dad called it, when Hunter slows down, and I catch up. With a mischievous grin, he puts a finger over his full lips. He’s up to no good, but we’re all alone, and I can’t deny that has me tingling. I follow his direction, as curious as a jungle cat.
I step forward quietly, the sudden drop making my stomach queasy even though I know it’s coming. Dad said it got its name because it would trip fools who ran through the jungle without paying attention to where they were going. I think he made that up to scare me away, but it could be true. The approach is so thick with trees and vines you can easily miss the edge if you aren’t looking.
When I was younger, I’d dare myself to look over the edge, inching forward until common sense took over and my feet stayed glued to the ground. I convinced myself I was learning how not to fall.
On the bright side, I never did.
But I did get in a lot of trouble for it.
Hunter drops to his stomach and drags himself up to the edge to peek over. “Come on,” he whispers. “Quick. Before they leave.”
I sigh. This is going to get grass stains all over my sundress. I only put it on to make Mom happy. If she wasn’t already convinced I was up to no good with Hunter, coming home with green knees and leaves in my clothes will do the job nicely. But she’s never happy, so I do it anyway.
Dropping down like Hunter, I inch forward until I can see over the edge. The drop is dizzying, easily fifty feet. More than far enough to break your neck and every other bone in your body.
Still, I’ve seen the drop before. What’s more interesting is the couple down on the shore below. I immediately recognize Mr. Dobson and Ms. Lopez. He works in the hangar, keeping our old sea-plane going, and she’s a maid at the estate. I put a hand to my mouth, trying not to gasp out loud. They’re kissing. Like, tongue and everything.
I tear my gaze away long enough to glance at Hunter. I figured his eyes would be locked on them, but he’s staring right back at me, blue eyes shining. Obviously, this is no surprise to him.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whisper. They’re having a private moment. Spying is wrong, and rude, and… and I still can’t quite bring myself to look away. It’s making me tingle all over.
“Hot, isn’t it?” Hunter whispers loudly enough that I worry they’ll hear him.
I throw him a glare before looking back down. They’re going at it down there like they’re trying to devour each other. We could set up a rock concert up here and they still probably wouldn’t notice.
Shoulder to shoulder, we watch together. I don’t know if Hunter feels it too, but I’m hyper aware of every place we’re touching, and where we aren’t. The air between us crackles. When Mr. Dobson starts to slide Ms. Lopez’s dress off her shoulder, I force myself to tear my eyes away and back up out of sight. There are some things we shouldn’t be watching, no matter how it makes me feel.
My skin is clammy and cold, missing Hunter’s heat.
He turns to me, frowning. “Where are you going? It’s just getting good.”
I hit him on the back of his leg. “Don’t watch that. It’s private.” I hope my disapproving scowl covers up how much I’m dying to lie back down and keep watching.
He shakes his head. “Private? They’re doing it righ
t in the open. That’s like asking to be watched.”
“Hunter, come on. It’s wrong and you know it. I’ll make enough noise that they hear us if you don’t come with me. Now.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I give him my best imitation of my mother when she’s angry.
He rolls his eyes, but pulls back. “Alright, alright. I’m coming. But you’re missing out. Ms. Lopez has huge tits, and Mr. Dobson… well, if you don’t want to see, I’m not gonna tell you.” He grins before taking off into the woods, leaving me standing there with my jaw hanging.
Dodging through the underbrush, he does his best to make me work to keep up. I know where he’s heading though—the biggest landmark out here. I don’t know what kind of tree it is, but it dwarfs everything else around it. When I was little, I named it Giant Bob, and the name’s stuck. I don’t even remember why, but it made my grandfather laugh and it’s been Bob ever since.
Hunter disappears behind it, and the trunk is so huge, I have to loop around to find him.
He’s waiting for me, grabbing me and pushing me right up against the trunk before I manage to produce much more than a surprised squeak. He holds me in place, standing so close I can’t think of anything but him and what we were just watching.
For a long moment it’s just him, me and the sounds of the forest, until I find my voice. “What are you doing?”
He licks his lips. “Have you ever done what they did?”
My eyes go wide. “What? Never!”
“Not even a little kiss?”
I stick out my tongue. “Of course not, you dork. Who would I kiss? I’ve lived here my whole life. The only time I get out is when we go shopping on the mainland or on vacations. Should I ask Mr. Dobson? He’s kinda old, but apparently quite… impressive.”
Hunter scowls. “Do you want to?” He leans in, his face only a couple of inches from mine, his deep blue eyes staring right into me. Even the ever present sound of the insects fades into the background.
“What? With—with you?” Suddenly, my stomach’s full of butterflies, fluttering like they’re trying to carry me off. Do I? I’ve dreamt about it. Way more than I probably should have, but making it real? “No way. I don’t need your pity kiss.”