9. Isla
ISLA
SAMARA, COSTA RICA
Isla had never been so glad to see La Hacienda Tropical. If the palm trees could hug her, she might actually cry.
As her mother pulled into the parking spot and turned off the engine to the car, Isla’s heart lurched.
Home.
God, it is good to be home.
Even though she hadn’t been looking forward to Vegas, she had been excited to see Davy and Megan ...even to catch up with the other girls a bit.
But the past four days had been nothing short of awful.
She’d come back with even more problems than she’d left with, and now she needed to find a way to break it to her mum and Sergio that she’d be taking an even longer trip starting in a month...in addition to the one she’d already scheduled for London.
Seven cities.
Would she even have time to come home while she was working on this project?
Three days of filming at each of the Paris locations meant she’d be back and forth from Costa Rica nonstop. And the trip she’d already scheduled to London was for nearly a week. She would have to figure this out better, or it would be completely exhausting.
“Qué pasó?” Mum asked, glancing at Isla, who hadn’t stirred from her seat to get out of the car.
Isla sighed, letting her gaze travel to the overgrown row of pink hibiscus by the car. “Nothing. Just . ..don’t worry about it.”
“Of course I’ll worry about it. I’m your mother.” Mum opened the car door. “Didn’t you have fun?”
“Yeah,” she answered quietly, then opened the car door. She and Mum were close—they talked about most things.
Except waking up in bed with Aiden after possibly getting drugged.
This didn’t feel like the sort of conversation she could have with her mum. She’d have to tell her about the job hosting the Paris show, of course, but everything else? Mum didn’t need to know. She couldn’t know. She just might tell Callum.
Latina mothers weren’t the best secret keepers to begin with.
Mum would mean well, but she’d call Callum, swear him to secrecy, tell him, and then Callum would feel compelled to keep Mum’s secret—leaving them all in a place where they knew the other one probably knew but they couldn’t talk about it.
“All I want is to crawl into my own bed, between my own sheets, and maybe get un bolillo de pan and stuff myself with bread and natilla.” Bread and sour cream had been her favorite comfort food since childhood.
“I’m sure we can arrange that. Anything for my Islita .” Mum smiled and helped her get her bags out of the trunk.
They dropped her bags off at the house behind the inn, then went into the front office.
Since the renovation, they’d expanded the front office to be much, much larger, with a full-size kitchen, a large and roomy waiting area for guests checking in to the inn, a display area to provide guests with champagne, wine, fruit juices, and water, and a selection of fruit, crackers, cheese, and pastries.
Isla swiped a guava pastry from the display and settled into a comfy chair. Fortunately, no guests were waiting right now.
“You’re back,” Sergio said, coming out from the back room. “Cómo lo pasaste?” How did it go?
“Perfecto.” She leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as she bit into the pastry. “Is Kyle here, by the way? I thought I saw his car.”
“Yes, he came a few days ago.”
Isla gave him a wan smile. Thank goodness.
It was one less obstacle to deal with. She didn’t know how Kyle would react to the idea of pretending to be her boyfriend on a show—or, for that matter, how Liddy and Callum would react—but she’d already decided she would make the boundaries truly clear.
No kissing. Maybe some hand holding. And they’d explain to their families it was all pretense in advance.
As far as she knew, Kyle didn’t currently have a girlfriend. Asking him was pathetic and ridiculous, but she didn’t have a lot of options. And if Liddy and Callum gave her crap, she’d remind them that not so long ago, their whole relationship had started with them fake dating.
Of course, in this case, fake dating Kyle was not going to lead to anything. She loved Liddy’s brother, but he was younger than her by three years—just twenty-five. And she wasn’t even remotely attracted to him, or going to cross a line like that.
Sucking in a deep breath, she sat straighter. She may as well get the hard part out of the way while Mum and Sergio were both here. “So, I have some ...news.”
They looked at her expectantly. “Do not tell me you did one of those Vegas bodas ,” Sergio said with a handsome grin.
Damn.
See? Sergio? Sergio she could pretend to date. Even though they were friends and the feeling was mutual, he was closer to her age and exceptionally good-looking.
But she couldn’t ask him to fake date her.
She needed him here to cover her shifts. And she needed to maintain a business relationship with him because she relied on him too much here.
“I did not, in fact, get married,” Isla said with a laugh. She rolled her shoulders back. “I did, however, promise my friend Davy that I’d be the star in a show for her. You remember Davy, Mum? The filmmaker? She’s working for the Travelog Channel now.”
Mum’s eyes went wide, and she clapped her hands together with delight. “A show? Isla, qué bueno.”
“Yeah, I don’t know how good it is.” Isla sighed.
“It’s not here. It’s a travel show doing six stops in separate communities named Paris.
Most of them are in the States. But it involves a lot of traveling, starting next month.
One trip a week, three days of filming in each place, then traveling and prepping for the next location.
I’m not sure if I could come back between episodes, but I could try if you really need me to. ”
Mum and Sergio exchanged a look.
Damn. She could tell their enthusiasm was already waning.
“I...I don’t have to do it, of course. It would just be really, really helpful to Davy if I do. She pitched it to her boss with me as the host, and her boss was really on board with the idea. And she hasn’t been doing the best at work, so it would be a huge relief for her if I can do it.”
She wouldn’t mention that she’d already signed the contract. She could get out of that if necessary— right?
“Did you forget we are going to London for Callum’s party in May?” Mum asked softly. Her tone didn’t suggest she was a fan of the idea, but she didn’t outright reject it, either.
“No, I know.” Isla cleared her throat. “I’ll have to make plans around it.” She appealed to Sergio. “And I know it would be a lot of extra work for you. I’ll owe you a month’s worth of cocktails and playlist control. Plus overtime, obviously.”
“You know I’m always happy to help,” Sergio said, setting his forearms on the counter and leaning forward. “But what did Callum say? He likes you being in charge.”
Isla’s gaze faltered from him.
Callum.
She hadn’t brought herself to telling him yet.
In fact, she would love to avoid telling him until everything was set in stone.
“Um, I haven’t told him.”
“Oh, Isla, por Dios .” Mum shook her head. “I know you love acting, but you and Callum made an agreement.”
Ugh, yes. The agreement. Give up her life in London—and acting—and come here and run the inn if he bankrolled it.
And now her big brother was her boss. One that she probably needed to ask permission from before she signed onto a job jet-setting through the Parises of the world.
She couldn’t even tell her mum that she was doing this show because of some great love for acting. That wasn’t it at all. She was just stuck.
“Do you think we can just wait until we settle the details? I don’t want to ask Callum if I can’t get coverage for the dates I need to be gone.” Besides, she’d have a better case to make to Callum if she had everything figured out.
Mum shifted with discomfort. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Sergio nodded. “I think you should tell him. He’s the owner.”
Isla polished off the pastry, then wiped the crumbs from her lips. Couldn’t anyone make anything easy on her right now?
Or maybe I’m making my own life too damn hard.
“Yeah, okay,” she grumbled. Standing, she grabbed her phone from her purse, then stashed her purse behind the desk. “I’m going to take a walk on the beach. Call Callum.”
She left them to head out of the front office and onto the main path toward the beach. From here, she could hear the faint call of the monkeys in the trees and the warmth of the sun on her skin. She loved this place.
It was home.
But living here and running the inn permanently?
Was this really what she was going to do for the rest of her life?
She pushed the thought away and made her way down the winding path until she reached the steps to the beach. There, she tossed aside her sandals and headed barefoot down the steps into the sand.
Kyle wouldn’t be surfing here—this wasn’t the best beach for surfing—but she’d see him soon enough.
God, how am I even going to ask him to pretend to be my boyfriend?
And why does the thought of asking Callum if I can do this fill me with even more dread?
She dialed before she could overthink it.
The call rang, and she blinked out toward the surf, shading her eyes from the sun.
“Isla,” Callum said, answering on the third ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure at this late hour?”
“Don’t act as though I never call,” she teased. She checked her watch. Two in the afternoon here. He was acting like she’d called past midnight. “And it’s not that late over there. You’re only six hours ahead of me.”
This shouldn’t be hard. It’s Callum.
“You don’t call that much. Not nearly as much as when we lived in London and you were a thorn in my side.”
“Aw, so sweet of you.” She settled down into the hot sand, stretching her feet in front of her. The ocean brought her an instant sense of calm, and she needed that right now. “But, in fact, I do have a question for you.”