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A Tropical Getaway

Andrew

The wind and rain pummeled the windows, the water beyond the resort’s deck churning. Zeus was real, and he was very, very angry.

Sighing, I pressed my fist against my mouth.

“Andrew.” A soft touch on my shoulder pulled me away from the window. “What’s wrong?” Lanie asked.

It took me a few seconds to pry open my clamped jaw. “The weather isn’t looking good. I checked, and it looks like it’s rain all weekend. I’m sorry. The forecast was all sunny when I booked the other day.”

Lanie wrinkled her nose. “Who cares about the weather?”

“Me. This is supposed to be the perfect trip.”

Her hand trailed down my arm. “There’s no such thing.”

I opened my mouth to disagree, but the hostess approached. “Mr. Marx, your table is ready.”

With my hand lightly pressed against Lanie’s lower back, we followed the hostess away from the floor-to-ceiling windows, past the roaring fireplace, and to the cozy table at the back of the resort’s restaurant. As we passed other diners, I noted several men check
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