Put a Ring On It by Beth Kendrick Page B

Brighton was insulted. “I’m not brand-new.”
    â€œWell? What did Google say?”
    â€œNot a whole hell of a lot. It pretty much verified everything I already know—vague references to corporate wheelings and dealings. But I couldn’t find anything personal. No social media or embarrassing photos from college.”
    â€œAnd you still got on the plane and signed the marriage certificate.” Kira clicked her tongue.
    â€œWhatever. What’s done is done, and we can always get divorced.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit.”
    Brighton noticed the flickering glow of a bonfire on the other side of the bay. “What do you think Colin is doing right now?”
    â€œDon’t go down that rabbit hole,” Kira advised. “At least one of us should get some sleep tonight.”
    Brighton rolled over onto her side. “Do you think he’s really found his soul mate? Do you think they’ll be happily married for fifty years?”
    â€œI think
your
marriage has a better chance of working out than his does. And that’s saying something.”
    â€œAw. You’re sweet.”
    â€œI’m so glad you’re going to stay in town for a bit,” Kira said. “It’s nice to have someone who knew me before.”
    Brighton didn’t have to ask before what. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I’m glad, too.”
    â€œAnd don’t worry.” Kira’s tone lightened. “If you end up dead in a puddle of Dolce and Gabbana cologne under mysterious circumstances, I’ll know who did it.”

chapter 10

    T he next morning Brighton woke up alone, surrounded by tangled white sheets and empty bottles of Gatorade. She could glimpse slices of ocean, sky, and sand through the slats in the white wooden shutters that covered the glass doors leading out to the balcony.
    Before she had time to start speculating as to Jake’s whereabouts, he appeared at the bedroom door. “Oh good,” he said. “You’re awake.”
    â€œI’m awake.” She stretched both arms toward the ceiling, then let them fall back on the pillows. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so well. The ocean is the best white-noise machine ever.”
    â€œI’ve got some conference calls later this afternoon, but I’m all yours this morning.” He walked over to the nightstand and put down a mug of coffee.
    She clapped her hand to her heart. “You made coffee for me?”
    â€œI figured you might be ready for a break from Gatorade.”
    â€œCoffee is perfect.
You
are perfect.” The words slipped outbefore her better judgment kicked in. “Which I know is impossible. Would you please just tell me what’s wrong with you, already? Come on. Get it over with.”
    He sat at the foot of the bed, giving her his full attention without crowding her. “What do you feel like doing today? I can show you around town.”
    She’d come to view Jake as some sort of nocturnal, man-whoring superhero. He didn’t do mundane things like show a visitor around town. He was . . . well, he was Jake Sorensen: larger than life and less than human.
    Brighton tried to come up with a suggestion that didn’t involve private jets or drive-through chapels. Something normal. Something she might do with Colin. “Well . . .”
    â€œYou’ll need something to wear,” he pointed out.
    â€œMy overnight bag is still in my car, which is still parked by the Whinery.” She paused. “I hope. Maybe I can get one more day out of this suit?” She wrinkled her nose as she glanced at the floor, where her skirt, blazer, blouse, and shoes were strewn across the rug.
    â€œYou can’t,” he decreed.
    She draped a sheet around her shoulders like an oversize poncho, clambered out of bed, and started picking up the wrinkled clothes. “I have a Tide stick in my bag. All I need is