A little wave of relief courses over me. There’s no soreness between my legs, no evidence of lovemaking. But how the hell did I get that drunk, that quickly? I only had, what, two and a half drinks? Maybe three?
“I’m sorry,” I mutter to Devlin, “I’m just a little freaked out. I need to get my things together and get down to the dock before the boat—”
But with perfect, terrible timing, my words are cut off by a long, mournful boat whistle. The sound our yacht made as it pulled away from the island last night. I rush over to the far wall, made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, and tear open the curtains. I blink into the early morning sunlight, taking in the vast view of the island all around us. My heart sinks as I catch sight of the vessel that brought me to this place, gliding across the smooth surface of the ocean back toward the mainland. A gaggle of bedraggled girls stand on the deck, waving goodbye to the men whose beds they’ve just rolled out of.
The group’s left without me.
“Shit!” I cry, bolting across the room to the bedroom door. “Oh, shit!”
“What’re you gonna do, swim after them?” Devlin asks, blocking my way to the door. “The ship’s already sailed, babe. Literally.”
“I can’t just stay here,” I exclaim, trying to push his immovable mass out of the way, “What am I going to do for a whole extra day on this rock?”
“Extra day?” Devlin asks, his eyes widening. “Are you serious? Logan, that yacht only comes around once every week.”
“What?” I breathe, my voice hollow.
“Looks like you’re going to be here for a while,” he says, resting his hands on my trembling shoulders. “I can’t say I’m disappointed.”
In a surge of panic, I skirt around him, wrenching open the door and bursting out into the hallway. I have to catch that yacht. I’ll doggie paddle after them if I have to. I take off down the thickly carpeted hallway at a sprint, ignoring the fact that I have no idea where I’m going. I hear Devlin calling after me as I barrel along in my tee shirt and panties. I’m so overwhelmed by the direness of the situation that I don’t even see one of the other bedroom doors opening into the hallway. By the time I spot the slender figure stepping out into my path, I can’t halt my own momentum. I crash, full speed, into the other guest, sending us toppling to the floor in a bundle of tangled limbs.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” exclaims the woman I’ve collided with. Her voice is honey-sweet, with the slightest cutting edge. It sounds strangely familiar, as if I’ve heard it in a thousand recurring dreams.
“I’m so sorry,” I gush, scrambling onto my knees and offering a hand to the woman. “Let me help you.”
Her face is obscured by a wave of silky black hair that falls away as she reaches for my outstretched hand. As her features are finally revealed, I feel time grind to a halt around me. Sitting beside me on the plush carpet is a ghost. An apparition from my past, long since disappeared from the world as I know it.
“Logan?” Juliet whispers, staring at me in utter disbelief.
“Hi, Sis,” I whisper, “Fancy meeting you here...”
“Oh good,” I hear Devlin say as he gallops up behind us. “Nobody’s concussed, here.” He looks perplexedly between the two of us as we stare raptly into each others’ eyes, our hands still clasped. “Hey...Do you two know each other or something?”
“You could say that,” I mutter.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Juliet demands, dropping my hand as if my touch had burned her. A sudden flush rises to my cheeks as I pick myself up from the hotel carpet. Disappointment, embarrassment, and years of resentment wrestle for control of my heart.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” I return coolly. “I’m living a little. Or are you the only Farrah sister who’s allowed to have a life of her own?”
“Sister?” Devlin says, his brow furrowing. “Jules, is this—is she—?”
“My little sister. That’s right,” Juliet snaps, crossing her slender arms.
“Your younger sister, maybe,” I reply, “But I’m not exactly little anymore.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Devlin mutters, grinning my way.
Juliet’s eye flash as she catches the knowing look that Devlin and I share.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, her voice rising heatedly. “Did you two seriously spend the night together?”
“Technically speaking,” I shrug, oddly pleased to be ruffling Juliet’s feathers.
“Jesus Christ, Dev,” Juliet fumes, “She’s, like, ten years younger than you.”
“Seven years, actually,” I blurt out. Devlin and Juliet stare at me quizzically. Shit. The only reason I know Devlin’s real age is because I’ve been studying every detail of his life. Am I seriously going to blow my own cover on my first day here? “Just a guess,” I add weakly.
“Whatever,” Juliet says, rolling her eyes. “It’s still fucked up, Dev. I thought you were above wooing the schoolgirls who wander out here.”
“I’m not a schoolgirl,” I reply, fed up with Juliet’s dismissive tone. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed off about my being here, but—”
“It’s not just you I’m pissed about,” she cuts me off. “It’s all the little rich girls coming out here.”
“You just hate being reminded that you’re one of those little rich girls at heart, too,” I snap back.
The glare she levels at me makes my blood run cold. Without another word, my sister turns on her heel and storms back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. A long, heavy moment of silence passes between Devlin and I out in the hallway. Is he going to quiz me about my relationship with Juliet? Chastise me for upsetting her?
“So...” he says gruffly, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. I realize, with a jolt of longing, that he’s neglected to put a shirt on yet today. The hard panes of his chest, his innumerable abs, and those fascinating tattoos are downright impossible to look away from. “So,” I reply, swallowing a sigh a confused frustration. “What should I do now?”
“I don’t know about you,” Devlin says, a smile twisting his lips, “But I could use some grub.” I laugh out loud at his casual suggestion. Taking me by the hand, Devlin tows me back toward his room. “Come on. Room service is on me.”