Chapter 3
LINCOLN
“You okay?”
A redundant, stupid question, as the woman who barely made it off the plane before she chucked up slowly straightened, swiping a hand across her mouth, her skin a ghastly colour somewhere between green and grey.
“Do I look okay?” She mutters, unable to meet my eyes, and I don’t blame her. I’d be mortified too.
“There’s bottled water in the fridge inside the hangar.” I point to the shed that’s large enough to shelter a twin engine during cyclones, and doubles as a makeshift airport for guests when they arrive on the island.
“Thanks.”
This time, she looks at me, and I note her eyes are a striking hazel.
“I’m Linc.”
“Vera.”
“Are you a friend of Tom and Pauline?”
Confusion creased her brow. “I don’t know who those people are. I’m the carpenter.”
“You’re here to repair the resort?”
Unfortunately, I make it sound like she’s here to dance naked at the wedding, and she bristles.
“Let me guess. You were expecting a bloke.”
“I was expecting someone not to splatter my shoes with vomit.”
The retort pops out before I can stop it, and to my surprise, the corners of her mouth twitch with amusement.
“Sorry about that. I’m a terrible flyer.”
“Me too.” I point to West, who’s disembarking. “Besides, my brother is a lousy pilot. He probably did a few loops, rolls, and stalls to impress you.”
West joins us. “Don’t listen to him, Vera. He’s in a foul mood because Santa didn’t bring him a new personality for Christmas.”
Vera chuckles, and I shoot West a death glare before flashing Vera a smile.
“I can show you to your room once I have a word with my brother.”
“Thanks, I’ll grab that water and meet you in the hangar.”
I watch as she walks away, surprised by the buzz of attraction. She’s wearing faded denim, a grey T-shirt, and sneakers. With her brown hair snagged in a ponytail and no makeup, she’s understated, and not the usual sassy blondes I go for.
West waves his hand in front of my face. “If you can tear your eyes away from her ass for two seconds, we need to talk.”
“Fuck off.” I hate when West knows me better than I know myself. “Where are Tom and Pauline?”
“I’ll have to fly back for them on the twenty-ninth. They’re busy sorting through relatives who had to cancel and reschedule once the wedding got moved from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Eve.”
“Poor schmucks.”
West shrugs. “They’re taking it in their stride. Surprisingly calm about everything. Then again, they’re so in love it’s nauseating, and probably wouldn’t notice if the Big Pineapple fell on their heads.”
I laugh, remembering a trip our family took to see the iconic monument when I’d been a kid.
Car trips being squished in the backseat with my three brothers had been fun, despite the constant squabbling and food remnants scattered all over us.
Back then, I wouldn’t have cared if the Big Pineapple had been tiny; I would’ve loved every minute, because that had been the last time we travelled anywhere as a family.
“Just you wait.” I press a thumb to West’s forehead. “Emery will have you under her thumb in no time at all.”
“She’s the best.”
West’s mushy expression is so startling I take a step back and shake my head. “Does Vera have any luggage?”
“No. Just the overnight bag she’s carrying.”
A woman who travels light. I respect that.
“Okay, I’ll show her to her room and see you later.”
As I stride towards the hangar, West calls out, “Don’t forget the number one rule, little brother.”
I pause and glance over my shoulder. “What’s that?”
“Don’t screw the crew.”
West smirks, and I flip him the middle finger before striding towards the hangar, wishing I hadn’t linked ‘Vera’ and ‘screwing’ in the same thought.