The Trouble with Love and Ink by Harriet Ashford

Author:Harriet Ashford [Ashford, Harriet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Phillips House
Published: 2024-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Before I knew it, I was on a plane with Beckett Atteridge, bumping elbows and pulling back with little apologies. Between powering through the last-minute items for the convergence, Beck and I concocted the “family emergency” I’d used to ask for time off. We settled on me having to fly to Kentucky for my dad’s knee surgery. The last time I checked, my father lived in Kentucky, but I didn’t know how his knees were holding up.

As Beck predicted, Wesley approved my PTO without a single question. Then Beck put in for his vacation, adding a few more days than mine to offset suspicions, and—big surprise—Wesley approved it as well. Oh, to be the golden child.

Between our scheming, working furiously to tie up all loose ends of our project, and finishing signage for Victoria’s wedding, I barely slept the past two weeks, and the time went fast. Almost too fast.

I went to switch my phone to airplane mode and found a text from Hailey.

Hailey: Tell me you got waxed!

I glanced over to make sure Beck couldn’t see my screen, but he was too focused on adjusting his headrest.

Me: You are way too invested in my pretend love life.

She had, of course, been elated when I’d told her about fake dating Beck. When she learned about the trip to Costa Rica, she practically transcended to a higher plane. She thought Beck and I would have our kids’ names picked out by the second day. I’d let her know, many times, that she was delusional.

Hailey: Just want to make sure you have your business taken care of before the analyst slips in.

The potent mental image set my cheeks ablaze.

“Everything okay?” Beck asked.

My phone slipped out of my hand like a wet fish, but I managed to catch it after a few fumbled attempts.

“Fine,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

I mashed the airplane mode and slipped it into my pocket.

“Are you sure?” Beck pressed. “Because your whole face is red.”

“Yeah. It’s just a little hot in here.”

Beck reached up, twisting the vents in my direction. I tried not to notice the way the sleeves of his T-shirt hugged his biceps. And I tried—really hard—not to picture those arms around me. But they were mouth-wateringly masculine for such a mundane task.

“Better?” Beck asked.

“Much,” I croaked.

After the plane ride, we had another three hours in the car driving from the San Jose Airport to Manuel Antonio. The view was breathtaking. Jungle plants looked ready to overtake the road at any moment. At one point in the drive, it started pouring rain. The leaves and branches bounced with the drops, dancing to the rhythm of the rainforest.

At the tail-end of the trip, the sun began its descent. Leaving the resort to shine like a beacon in the night. The property looked massive from what I could make out in the dim light. I counted five stories for the building in the forefront, and it sprawled out in either direction until it seemed to disappear into the jungle.

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