Chapter 100: The Rum Was Gone
VANESSA BELMONT JANG
The second the sliding door clicked shut, sealing Steve the Iguana’s scaly ass outside where he belonged, my knees gave out. I collapsed onto the nearest couch—which, admittedly, still smelled faintly of saltwater and reptile—and let out a groan that had been building since the moment that creature stole my very expensive lingerie.
Nathan flopped down beside me, his arm immediately curling around my waist like he was afraid I’d dissolve into hysterics if he didn’t anchor me. (He wasn’t wrong.) His shirt was rumpled, his hair was a disaster, and there was a suspicious green smudge on his elbow that I really hoped wasn’t iguana-related.
Ollie, still vibrating with adrenaline, clapped his hands together. "Okay, so that was awesome."
Leo, who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes, dragged a hand down his face. "Ollie. Sweetheart. Light of my life. No."
"But Steve—"
"Is gone," Leo said firmly. "And if I ever see that thing again, I’m throwing him into the ocean myself."
I snorted. "You say that like he wouldn’t just swim back, drunk and pissed off, ready for round two."
Nathan shuddered. "Do not give the universe ideas."
The house was a disaster. The coffee table was scuffed from Ollie’s impromptu battle dance, the couch cushions were in disarray from our Great Escape, and my poor lingerie was somewhere in this house, possibly being used as a nest by a very smug reptile.
I groaned again, louder this time, and buried my face in Nathan’s shoulder. "I hate this island."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "No, you don’t."