Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
He slows when he reaches me, and I hold my breath, unsure what he’s going to say, and then he smoothly slips a piece of paper into my hand. “See you around.” I try my best to look indifferent, but when he disappears out of sight, I barely avoid placing my hand on my chest, over my thundering heart.
Tucking the piece of paper into my pocket, I ignore the seemingly heavy weight of it and focus on all the things I need to get done before my shift is over and my vacation begins.
CHAPTER 2
hanna
Lying on my belly in my sleep shorts with the doors to my balcony open, letting the sea breeze in, I watch my cousins all dissect what I just told them about my reaction to Walker—the guy who was on my flight yesterday, according to the paper he gave me before he got off the plane.
“I think you should call him,” May says, looking half asleep. Then again, she would look half asleep, since it’s almost midnight back home in Tennessee.
“You should totally call him,” Harmony agrees.
“What about my vow to stay single for a year?” I nibble my bottom lip, glancing over at the note with the name Walker scrawled across it in neat handwriting along with his phone number.
“Did you vow that your vagina would stay single?” April asks, and I can’t help but smile.
“No, but I’ve never had a one night stand, and I don’t know if I have it in me to do that.”
“Then don’t think of it as a one night stand. Think of it as a vacation fling.” She shrugs, then tips her head to the side. “I also hate the idea of you missing out on mind blowing sex in Spain with some hot guy, just because your ex was a complete douche.”
“I totally agree with that,” May yawns.
“What do I even say?” I sit up, pressing my back to the headboard and bringing my laptop with me.
“‘I’m in town for two nights and want to get my brains banged out. Are you down for the job?’” April suggests, and we all laugh.
“Seriously though?” I ask, still grinning.
“You could always just send him a text,” Harmony says, then adds, “And although I agree that you deserve to get laid by a hot guy, you don’t have to go into meeting with him thinking you’re going to sleep with him.”
“This is true.” I look toward the door when there’s a knock. “That’s my breakfast. I’ll let you guys go and call you tomorrow to tell you what happened.”
“Love you!” I hear shouted from all of them in unison, then April shouts, “Get that dick, bitch!”
Laughing, I shout back, “Love you!” and shut my computer before I slide off the bed. Going to the door, I check the peephole before I open it up and take my food from the girl delivering it. When I carry it to my bed, I sit criss-cross style in the middle and dig into my food while continuing to ponder what I should do.
Six months ago, I was dating a pilot from another airline and got the wake up call of my life when his wife showed up at the restaurant where we were at on a date. Not only had he been cheating on her with me, but he was also dating three other women and had gotten one of them pregnant.
Although things between him and me were still pretty new we were exclusive, or so I thought, and I truly believed the relationship was going somewhere.
I was wrong, so very wrong, and that situation made me realize how desperate I had gotten. I missed or avoided seeing every red flag, because I wanted to believe he might be the one. After that, I vowed to stay single for a year to get my head on straight.
A few hours later I glance at Walker’s number still lying on the stark white duvet after I’ve showered and gotten dressed in my swimsuit. Maybe April is right. Maybe a vacation fling is just what I need to get back out there without diving headfirst into dating and another relationship that will likely lead nowhere.
Taking a seat on the bed, I grab my cell and his number, and with my stomach in knots, I type it into my phone with a quick text.
Me: Hey, it’s Hanna. You gave me your number.
I press Send before I can talk myself out of it, then wonder if I should have been more specific. Who knows how many women he gives his number to on a daily basis.
Me: I’m the air hostess.
I press Send, then groan.
Me: So, to clarify, you gave me your number when we landed in Ibiza.
I toss my phone toward the end of the bed, out of reach after sending that text so I can’t send any more messages. I’m sure he’s going to think I’m some weirdo desperate woman after I sent three messages in a sixty second timespan.