Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Brandon

“That’s cheating,” Rose says when I tell her that we’re skipping the next two challenges and heading straight to the fourth because it makes sense.

Islamorada is the closest key, and there’s no point traveling back and forth between the islands in the name of following the rules. Besides, the Rain Barrel Village might provide us with some assistance in completing the third challenge. You have to see the bigger picture if you want to win.

“Do you honestly think that anyone else in this game is going to add pointless miles and time to their journey by adhering to the list you and Kelly drew up?”

She watches me from the seating area on the speedboat, with her life vest on, and Georgie dozing on her lap, her thumb in her mouth. Her hair is already salt tangled from the ocean breeze and her cheeks are pink. It’s almost impossible to connect her to the woman in the Weiss Tower lobby with the sandwich-filled container and too much attitude, and I remind myself that she ended up here against all the odds because of her own agenda.

“Well, yes,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.

Damn, I wish she wouldn’t do that.

“Rookie mistake.” I drag my eyes away from her, and check the controls. “My mom might know how to dress a table and enjoy a few cocktails before dinner, but she’s a Weiss. She’s probably more competitive than me and Damon together, and she’ll expect the same level of drive from her guests.”

Rose studies the ocean. She almost looks hurt, as if I just shattered her illusions of my mom, and I cuss under my breath for revealing too much. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about my mom’s relentless energy and ambitions. Why would I?

So, how did I get sucked into it now?

I make a mental note-to-self to keep my mouth shut and focus on the challenges.

“If I know Damon, he’s probably already at the Rain Barrel Village. You have to understand,” I continue, “my parents’ friends are all cut from the same mold. Every single one of them will have figured out the fastest route and done their research to save time.”

It isn’t cheating. I’m simply playing to win. So, why am I still talking, and why won’t she look at me?

Rain Barrel Village is an oversized shack, surrounded by palm trees, with a one-legged pirate in the entrance and a giant lobster named Betsy outside. It looks exactly as the name suggests, like someone cobbled together a building using scraps of wood washed up on the shore. Despite the tourists milling around outside and taking selfies with Betsy to post on their social media accounts, there’s something fresh and welcoming about the place, like rocking up at your grandparents’ house and finding your childhood treehouse.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose breathes.

She stops and soaks it all in, open-mouthed, like she’s just arrived at her first red-carpet event, and I wonder how she would look in a figure-hugging evening dress with her hair swept up and diamonds around her neck.

“Brandon?” She watches me carefully and I realize that she must’ve asked me a question. “I said, can we take a selfie with Betsy the lobster before we go inside?”

“Selfies are for tourists.”

It’s a typical Brandon-Weiss response—they literally roll off my tongue, and for once, I wish I’d reined it in a little. Even I understand that we’ll get through today a whole lot quicker without the abrasive bickering between us.

“I am a tourist,” she says.

“Look, Rose, a crabby!” Georgie points at Betsy and runs over to the giant lobster.

Rose keeps up with the child—Damon might not have acknowledged his own daughter in Key Largo, but there’s no way Rose is letting the child out of her sight.

I follow them, scanning the crowds for a glimpse of Damon and Jennifer, and releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when there’s no sign of them.

“Brandon, will you take a picture of us, please?” Rose stands with my niece in front of her, the lobster in the background, and without thinking, I oblige by sliding my phone out of my pocket. “Say, cheese,” she says to Georgie.

I center them on my phone screen. Georgie pouts, her face scrunched up, eyes squinting into the sunlight, but it’s Rose’s smile that I’m focused on when I click the green button multiple times. I can’t work out if it’s guilt over the wager with Damon, but there’s something in that smile that’s making me question my initial impression of Rose Carter.

“Can I see?” she asks, coming closer.

“Later.” I clear my throat, annoyed at the huskiness in my voice. “We have some shopping to do.”

“Are we going shopping?” Georgie asks. “Can I get a baby?”

“We’ll see.” Rose widens her eyes at me. “I didn’t bring any money.”

“Lucky I did then.”

I turn around and head inside the Rain Barrel Village Store, reminding myself that she isn’t scamming me for money—she wasn’t even supposed to be here. It’s a hard habit to break.

Rose and Georgie stop to admire everything, and I’m starting to think that I should’ve left them on the boat.

“Shell necklace,” Georgie says, poking some strings of shells hanging over a rack.

“Dolly, Rose.”

“Look, Rose, it’s the crabby from outside.”

“We’re not buying a crabby,” I say, using the child’s terminology for Betsy the lobster. “We’re here to find something unusual.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find it in this store,” Rose’s voice is low, keeping the conversation personal. “I think we should skip straight to the artisan stores at the back of the village.”

I swallow. Focus on the game rather than the faint scent of Rose’s perfume.

“We’ll save time if we can find something in here.” I peer around at the souvenir key rings, fridge magnets, and baseball caps.

“But we’re looking for something unusual,” she says, in case I’ve forgotten the challenge.

While Georgie is busy touching everything she can see, and Rose is following her around straightening stuff behind her, I scan the ware for something the other players might not spot. My gaze settles on a rack of wide-brimmed sombreros, and I pick one up—one half of challenge number three solved. Then I spot some snow globes tucked away on a shelf behind a sales assistant.

She catches my eye and asks what I’m looking for. “Something unusual,” I say, aiming a well-practiced smile her way. “It’s for a treasure hunt.”

“Ooh, exciting,” she squeals. “Let me show you something.”

She arches a thick, dark eyebrow at the intended innuendo, and I keep my face a mask. She’s attractive, potentially even my type, but my mind is elsewhere this week.

The assistant crouches in front of some cartons waiting to be unpacked, making sure I get an unobstructed view of the small expanse of exposed flesh between her pants and her top, and stands up with a wide smile and a snow globe in her hand. “New in,” she says, giving the small globe a shake.

I’ve already spotted the miniature shack preserved inside the glass bubble complete with Betsy the lobster and shake my head. “I need something original.” I already know this will cost me the challenge.

“Wait for it,” she says.

And then I spot the ‘snow’ which is actually tiny slices of key lime pie. I take the snow globe from her and give it another shake. “Can you wrap it up for me?” I hesitate. “I need a special favor from you: can you hide this carton and unpack it later so that no one else from the treasure hunt finds it?” I slide my Amex Centurion card from my wallet and flash it at her.

“Sure thing.”

“I’ll take a sombrero too.”

The assistant swaddles the globe in bubble wrap and stuffs it inside a small box, then fetches a sombrero from the hanging rack which she sets on the counter while she checks the items through the register.

“What are you buying?” Rose appears from nowhere, Georgie attached to her hip holding a rag-doll wearing a Betsy print T-shirt. Her eyes narrow when she spots the sombrero.

“The winning item,” I say.

“A sombrero?”

“That’s for the next challenge.”

Rose shakes her head. In one fluid movement, she whips the hat from the counter and replaces it with the rag-doll and a small plastic container. “Nu-huh. I’m not letting you do that.”

“There’s nothing in the rules to say I can’t buy a sombrero.”

But she’s already walking away. She replaces the hat on the stand and then waits outside for me to join them.

I pay for her items simply because she dumped them on the counter, and I’ll look like an ass if I try to return them. The way the assistant grinned at her when she stole the sombrero, I already know that she’ll take Rose’s side in an argument.

Outside, she stares at the brown paper bag in my hand. “So, what’s this winning object you found then?” I recognize the accusation in her tone and wonder if she took my teamwork comment to Damon literally and expected to have a say in what we bought.

I unpack the snow globe and give it a shake to disturb the key lime pie slices.

Frown lines appear between her eyebrows.

“What?” I ask, finding myself on the defensive.

She shrugs. “It’s a snow globe.”

I blink at the object in my hand. “Have you ever seen key lime pie snow?”

“No, but I bet thousands of other tourists have.”

“They were new in. The assistant promised not to unpack the carton until later.”

“New in today .” Rose hands the rag-doll to Georgie and peers at the other shacks behind the big store. “We need something quirky. Something original.”

“This is quirky.” I stuff the globe back inside the box.

I don’t even know why I’m standing here arguing the point. I bought the globe; all we’re doing now is wasting time.

“No, Brandon,” Rose says gently, forcing me to look her in the eye and forget that we’re in a hurry. “This is tacky. There’s a difference.”

“It’s done now.”

“Not necessarily. Come with me.”

She follows the dusty trail between shacks, my niece bouncing along on her hip, and I walk close behind them, curiosity getting the better of me. She thinks that she can find something more original, something quirkier, and I’m going to sit back and watch her fail.

Rose doesn’t stop until she reaches the final shack with a window filled with crystals, authentic wands and books claiming to contain magical spells. “Everyone else will stop at the main store to save time,” she says.

“Everyone?” Because yep, the asshole in me has to question her thinking.

“Tell me you don’t think Damon will head straight for the biggest shack on the island, and we’ll turn around and do it your way.”

She has a point. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes.”

She opens her mouth to speak and then changes her mind, heading inside instead. She greets the assistant, a middle-aged woman with dreadlocks, and black gems piercing her dimples, and wanders around the store slowly as if she’ll know what she’s looking for when she sees it.

I keep quiet. Georgie peers at me from over Rose’s shoulder, and I smile at her, which only serves to make her look the other way.

“Oh my God, what’s this?” Rose sets the child down and picks up a cylindrical object with slits around the sides and an intricate black pattern. “Can I watch it?” she asks the assistant.

“Go ahead.” The assistant smiles at Rose, and there’s nothing pushy in the gesture, nothing calculating. She isn’t expecting a sale, she’s smiling because that’s what people do around Rose, I’ve noticed. Even my father.

Rose spins the object, her eyes flickering as she watches the images inside through one of the slits. Her eyelashes are so long they cast a shadow across her cheek, and I’m still studying that shadow when she turns to me and says, “You have to see this.”

I move closer, and Rose holds the zoetrope in front of my face.

There’s a moving image of Betsy the shrimp inside, and my first instinct is to rib her for choosing something so tacky. Then the story begins to unfold, and I watch Betsy being chased by a chef. She screams, tries to hide, and finds a chef uniform complete with white hat, which she dons to escape being cooked.

I’m grinning when I turn back to Rose.

“Now that’s quirky,” she says.

I shake my head but take the zoetrope to the assistant anyway. “Can you wrap it up?”

Her gaze flits between me and Rose, and I wait for the ‘cute family’ comment to follow. Instead, she wraps the object neatly in brown paper and places it inside a paper bag, adding a yellow scented candle that I never asked for.

“Light it and tell it your greatest desire,” she says.

I glance behind me at Rose, and back again, and realize that she’s talking to me. “Yeah, I’m not sure I believe in that kind of stuff.”

The woman smiles, revealing a ruby inset into one of her top teeth. “You will.”

We head back to the boat with our purchases, and instead of urging Rose to walk faster, I find myself slowing down to match her pace. I’m not sure I get the whole tourist attraction thing, but there is something about the Florida Keys that demands visitors slow down and breathe.

We’re passing by the original shack, the first one we entered, as Damon and Jennifer come outside, holding a sombrero each.

Damon’s grin tells me all I need to know—he’s confident of victory.

“Missed a trick there, brother,” he says, eyeing up the paper bags in my hand. “Good luck finding a sombrero when you get to Sombrero Beach.”

I glance at Jennifer who gives a brief shake of her head. “Luck doesn’t enter into it. You know that, Damon. The game is already in the bag.”

My brother’s laughter follows us away from the village and back to the boat.

“Either you packed a sombrero for the ride, or you know something I don’t,” I say to Rose as I help her and Georgie back on board the boat and shove our purchases into her arms.