Page 5 of Third Time's the Charm
“And polo shirts. Not even pink ones.” He made his eyes extra wide. “It’s like he doesn’t even know where he is.”
The official dress code of the Keys was shorts, tank tops, and flip-flops. For dressy occasions women wore sundresses and men wore Hawaiian shirts. With flip-flops. If they wore shoes at all. Which was honestly a thing. You know how restaurants usually have signs that said “no shirt, no shoes, no service”? Not here. No one gave a flying flip about any of it.
As long as you were happy.
Happiness was the requirement around here. Which was why I was convinced the pina colada was invented. It made sad people less sad. What was it Jimmy—patron saint of the Keys—sang?Where we go I hope there’s rum!
It was definitely one of the happiness ingredients here on Mistletoe Key.
“So what are you doing down here, Harry?” The main Anderson clan called Calusa Key their home base. The island on the gulf coast was where Berlin grew up, but when she inherited her aunt’s house on Mistletoe Key she jumped at the chance to live on her favorite island—away from the constant attention of her sisters.
“Berlin needed some help with a few repairs. We figured it would be fun to spend Christmas here for a change.”
“All the wedding madness over?”
“Yes, fortunately.”
“The girls here?” Harry and Paris had two daughters.
“Of course. I’ll bring them by your mom’s later when we get frozen yogurt. If you want?”
I appreciated the way he asked. “Of course. I didn’t divorcethem.”
A pained look crossed his face. “Um . . . have you heard the news?”
I didn’t like the way he asked that. Harrison Montague wasn’t the kind of guy who ever hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking. Not even when it was hard. The day Berlin announced she wanted a divorce? Harry punched me in the nose and told me it was my fault. Gave me a detailed list of all the ways I’d been a bad husband. Then he bought me a beer.
Guys were like that.
So if he was hesitating now, this news, whatever it might be, was big.
“What news?”
“Shit. She didn’t tell you. Shit.” He set his bucket down again. This time I got a look at the two very dead snapper inside.
My stomach growled again. Why could my stomach be so happy to be back on Mistletoe Key when my head was clearly picking up on some serious warning signs?
That warning beacon went into overdrive when Harry braced his hand against the wood railing and he looked me straight in the eye. “Berlin is engaged to Ryker. They’re getting married.”
Chapter 1 (Part 2)
How It Started
Berlin
It was hot and I was up to my elbows in trash.
Wait, let me back up and explain that a little more fully. It was hot for December, even in Florida. I had sweat dripping off my forehead, from my elbows, and running a nice river down the back of my legs. Which was a problem because too much sweat would ruin my carefully leveled excavation pit.
And yeah, I wastechnicallyup to my elbows in trash, but it wasn’t recent trash. It was a hundred-and-eighty year old trash pit that I’d (finally) located after five years of searching.
“Oh!” Cynthia gasped. “Is that a fucking fully intact Fountain of Youth bottle? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Cynthia’s favorite word is the f-word. Don’t hold it against her. She’s awesome other than the constant f-bombs. “Yep. Sure as shit is.” Also,allarchaeologists love to swear. Comes with the territory. We drink beer, we swear, and we make everything we excavate into a dildo.Ahem,“fertility ritual object.”
Whatever.
If there’s one universal thing about people throughout history, it’s that they love to fuck.
