Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,18

fish in the proverbial sea.

Useful info for when, more like if, she decided to eventually dip a fishing pole in the water again. After this debacle with Ric, concentrating on work seemed like a safer bet.

On that thought, Sara picked up half of her Cuban mix and angled it against the other half to better show off the ingredients inside. Melted Swiss cheese blended with rows of dark roast pork and lighter ham. Green dill pickles and a slathering of yellow mustard added a dash of color in between the doughy white Cuban bread. Leaning away from the table, she ducked down, eyeing her food. At the same time, she reached for her cell and thumbed the screen to activate the camera app.

“You’re missing out on a tasty meal,” Luis said, before taking another he-man-sized bite.

Sara cut her gaze over to him, marveling at the fact that in just a few bites nearly a quarter of his sandwich was already gone.

“I’m taking my time,” she answered. “The better to savor it. Unlike someone else I know.”

A full-mouthed humph answered her.

The typical tough guy grunt had her smiling. Pleasantly surprised at the sense of ease she’d found with him.

There’d been a moment, back in his truck, when he chided her about eating her food, that had sent a trickle of unease dribbling down her spine. Just as quickly, she realized his focus was on simply enjoying the moment, not her actual lack of food consumption. There was no need to let her personal issues color his words.

Even before Ric had dropped his no-show bombshell, she’d been feeling the stress of a week with her family. Second-guessing her decision to introduce Ric to everyone. The two of them hadn’t been clicking for a while. Probably because she had ignored the fact that he was more her parents’ type than hers. More suitable as part of a power couple, rather than capable of making a real, honest connection with someone.

Her flight had landed in Key West with Sara waffling between dread and blind hope. Ric’s no-show move had tipped the scales toward dread.

Then Luis arrived on the scene. All white knight–ish. With his monster truck and heart-palpitating hunkiness. And in spite of the charade they were preparing to play, Sara found herself enjoying his company.

Maybe it was the magic of the island air. Maybe it was this generous man who’d agreed to help her, a woman who was a total stranger. Albeit one with a public following many in her line of business worked hard to achieve.

More than likely, it was a combination of both.

Either way, the weight she’d been carrying like extra baggage she couldn’t check on her flight had been chucked aside. Thanks to him.

Squinting at the image on her cell screen, Sara concentrated on snapping a good pic for her followers. She moved the camera around her sandwich, mindful of her subject, noting the details framing her shot in the blurry background. The rough, grainy concrete table edging the opaque butcher paper, a flash of dark brown and green from a baby palm tree, the corner of an orange beach towel tossed haphazardly on the sand.

Click. Adjust the angle. Click. Tap the screen to refocus. Click. Satisfied with the mix of photos, she slid her cell into her purse, swapping it for her notebook and pen.

“How about we stick with the basics. Enough to get us by without tripping ourselves up,” she said, opening the book to the page she’d marked with his name earlier. “Age, birthday, family details. Favorites. Non-negotiables.”

“Hm, I like that last one.”

“Non-negotiables are key.” She wiggled her pen at him, emphasizing her point. “Like, scary movies? Hard pass. My stomach in knots, spending most of the time covering my eyes or burying my face in my date’s shoulder because I can’t look. Not my jam. You?”

“I can take or leave ’em. I’m more of a documentary or action flick viewer. Let’s see, my hard pass would be . . .” Luis wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, eyes squinting at something in the distance as he considered his answer. Seconds later, his pensive frown brightened. “Got it! Karaoke. Definitely not for me.”

“No way?!”

“Yes way.”

“Come on, karaoke’s so fun.” Using her pink pen like a pseudo-mic, she pantomimed a singer. “I figured you and I’d be signing up for a duet. Maybe ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease.”

The horrified expression on his rugged face was so meme worthy Sara threw back her head and laughed. Add a WTH?