“Yes, I’m feeling overwhelmingly lucky right now,” I retort bitterly.
“We’ll find that guy,” Ryke tells me. I showed him the texts this morning before Lily woke up. “And then I’m going to put my fist in his fucking face.”
“HEY! THIRD FLOOR!!”
I lean an arm on the balcony railing and spot two American girls in string bikinis, their breasts hardly contained. Like the locals, they’ve tried to adopt the scarce bottom look, asses fully exposed. Both girls hold brightly colored plastic cups, their hair braided across their shoulders.
Ryke stands and puts his forearms on the railing, taking in the sight. He bites into his bagel nonchalantly, watching as the girl in the green bikini waves us down.
“Come swim with us!!” she shouts with a smile.
“Remind me why I came here with a girl,” Ryke says with a longing look. He checks out her ass, and the girl only grins wider.
“Because you didn’t want to be the fifth wheel.” I smile at his distress.
A loud scream echoes from the room, and we both quickly peel away from the balcony and rush inside. Without much room, I bump straight into Connor’s back. He almost trips over the cot that blocks the hall, but he grabs onto the dresser before falling.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to maneuver around the fold-out bed.
Ryke is so annoyed that he kicks the entire thing. It slams into the wall and somehow efficiently makes room for us to walk.
“Daisy is here,” Connor says.
“What?” Ryke goes rigid. Probably thinking the same as me—that was a happy scream?
I frown and search the room with a hesitant gaze. But I only spot Melissa on the couch, eating a bagel and typing on her cell phone. Her lips are downturned, not having as much fun as she probably imagined.
“They’re in the bathroom,” Connor explains. “Rose wants to put makeup on and use Daisy’s flatiron. She’s actually excited, but the luxury of name-brand hair products will probably wear off when she realizes that her sixteen-year-old sister just arrived to Cancun during college Spring Break.”
“So no one knew she was coming?” I ask.
Connor shakes his head. “She wanted to surprise her sisters.”
“She can’t stay,” Ryke says roughly. “I nearly died trying to chaperone her sweet sixteen in Acapulco.”
I heard the story from Lily, who also chaperoned Daisy’s birthday. Apparently the fearless Calloway jumped off a cliff into the ocean and Ryke felt the need to jump in after her.
“I won’t let her jump off anything,” I tell him. “I happen to be a damn good chaperone.”
He glares. “You couldn’t chaperone a fucking sloth. And that requires remedial skills like sitting and watching.”
I shoot him a hard look. I honestly don’t care if Daisy stays or not. One more person in an already crowded room won’t change anything. “Daisy blends in. You won’t even notice she’s here.”
His brows harden and his jaw sets, equally as firm. “When’s the last time you’ve fucking seen her?”
I want to say last week, but I’m certain that’s wrong. I strain my mind. I guess I haven’t seen her since I’ve been back from rehab. In fact, I don’t think I ran into her at the Christmas Charity Gala last year. Granted, I didn’t stay long. The last time I saw her must have been during the yacht trip to the Bahamas—when Lily and I became a real couple. Jesus.
That was a long time ago.
“Daisy doesn’t blend,” Connor says.
“When have you seen her?” I snap accusingly. I don’t like that these two guys have spent more time with my girlfriend’s sister than me. I’ve been around the Calloways longer. I’ve known Daisy since she was a kid. I’m supposed to be the interim “big brother” figure. Though, I’ve done a pretty shitty job of it so far.
“I go to the Calloway Sunday luncheons with Rose,” Connor tells me. Oh. Shit.
If I marry Lily, I am easily going to be the worst son-in-law.
And then I pale at the idea of Connor and Rose.
Connor Cobalt cannot marry Lily’s sister. He’ll set unattainable standards that I will never be able to meet.
Loud, happy squeals resound from the bathroom. I relax at the mere thought that Lily is smiling. Last night she was near tears, and anything that can change her mood is something I wholeheartedly approve of. “I’m going to check on them,” I say.
Ryke takes a seat on the edge of the bed, scowling at the carpet. He seems deep in thought. About what—I have no clue. Could be Daisy. Could be Melissa. Could be me.