The Rake (Boston Belles #4) by L.J. Shen

Ah, yes.

Since my parents were paying for Trinity and Wyatt’s wedding, the Costellos—Cruz’s parents—had decided to invite both families to a pre-wedding cruise so we could all get to know each other better.

Because the Costellos were frequent cruisers, they used their loyalty points to book Trinity and Wyatt the honeymoon stateroom and two-bed staterooms for themselves and my parents.

My son Bear all but begged to room with my parents, who were going to have a private Jacuzzi and in-suite candy bar. Since it was his first ever vacation, I relented.

But that meant Cruz and I still needed to book rooms for ourselves, and since Cruz had a “real job” and I had so much free time (my mother’s words, not mine), I was tasked with finding us rooms for the cruise.

“I’m working on it.”

“I hadn’t realized it took such effort to book tickets.”

I patted my stiff, heavily-sprayed blond mane.

“Maybe for you it’s easy. But us feather-headed people take a long time to do things. Where do I book these tickets anyway? The internet, yes?” I cocked my head. “It’s that thing on the computer? With all the little words and kitty videos?”

His blade-sharp jaw ticked.

Just once.

But once was enough to spark unabashed joy. It was a well-known fact that nothing threw Cruz Costello off-balance.

“Book those tickets, Tennessee.”

“Yes, sir. Will you be needing the double bed or just the queen?”

“Are you asking if I’m bringing Gabriella along?”

“Or any other almost-underage woman of your choice.”

That wasn’t completely fair, or the most extreme age gap amongst the dating pool.

Gabby was Trinity’s age, twenty-five, and Trinity was marrying Wyatt, Cruz’s older brother.

Cruz dipped his hand into the front pocket of his khaki pants. He wore casual exasperatingly well.

“Try not to mess things up when you book it, will you?”

Now that made my mask of indifference slip and shatter on the floor. Being the one who always messed up in this town might be the way I’d been pigeonholed, but in my opinion, I hadn’t earned it.

“I’m perfectly capable of booking two cruise tickets.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You know,” I mused, twirling a lock of blond hair that spilled from my unfashionable updo, “you’re not even half as nice as people think you are.”

“Been saving all this venom specially for you.” He tilted his ball cap down like a cowboy. “Any parting words, Tennessee? I have a date waiting in my car.”

Right, right, right.

His shiny Audi Q8 to go with his shiny girlfriend and his shiny life.

To that question, I answered with my middle finger, taking advantage of the fact everyone around us was talking animatedly about what happened to Straw Choker to notice.

It wasn’t my most elegant answer, but it sure was the most satisfying one by a mile.



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