Read Online Nacho Figueras Presents by Jessica Whitman - Free Book Online Page A

to say something else, but she was interrupted by one of the veterinary assistants, who emerged in scrubs to tell them that things were going fine, but that it was a bit more complicated than they first thought, and it would be several hours before the surgery was over.
    Alejandro turned to Georgia. “You should go home. I’ll call you a car.”
    “I’d rather wait, if you don’t mind,” said Georgia. “I want to make sure that the pony is all right.”
    Alejandro was surprised to feel relief. He realized that he actually wanted her to stay. She shivered, tucking her hands under her arms.
    He shook his head. “I thought you said you were from New York? How can you be cold in Florida?”
    “This air-conditioning’s colder than snow, I think.”
    “At least let me get you something to eat and something warmer to wear. We can’t have you sitting here freezing to death.”
    She looked around the antiseptic waiting room and laughed. “How are you going to manage that?”
    He smiled. “I know a place nearby.”

Chapter Sixteen
    W hat, exactly, was she doing? thought Georgia as she followed Alejandro onto the boat. No, not a boat—it was a yacht. It was much too big to be considered a plain old boat.
    “ La Bonita Pilar ,” she read out loud as they boarded. “And who’s Pilar?”
    “ Mi mamá ,” said Alejandro. “My father bought this boat for her, but she hated it. She gets terribly seasick. So he mainly sailed alone.”
    “Big boat to sail alone,” she said, impressed.
    “Well, there’s a crew, of course, when she’s at sea.” He opened a cabin door. “Give me one moment to get things in order.”
    As he ducked below deck, Georgia walked to the front of the boat, looking out at the view from the private dock. It was dark now, but the moon shone so bright that it eclipsed the stars. She could hear the waves softly lapping, smell the tang of salt on the velvety ocean breeze. It was unbelievable to imagine that she had been shivering in her cold upstate barn less than twenty-four hours before.
    She took out her phone and sent Billy a quick text. Um. I’m on a yacht with Alejandro Del Campo , she wrote.
    Her phone chimed an answer within seconds. GET IT, GIRL , she read. She smiled and rolled her eyes.
    Suddenly she heard the snap and whir of a generator, and the boat lit up with soft, amber lights. Alejandro emerged, carrying a sweater, a tray of food, a bottle of wine tucked under one arm, and a bottle of San Pellegrino tucked under the other. “I thought we could sit up above,” he said, and he motioned to a small set of stairs.
    She followed him up, and they emerged onto a snug little balcony with a built-in table and bench. The view was even better from up there, an endless expanse of dark water and sky, broken only by the warm reflection of the lights on the boat and the silvery, wavering rays of the moon, which had just begun to wane. He handed her the sweater, dark green cashmere that was so light and soft it felt woven from silken cobwebs.
    “Sorry if it’s a little big,” he said. “It’s mine.”
    She slipped it over her head and rolled up the sleeves, happy to finally cover her torn tank top. It smelled of something warm and spicy—a cologne that she didn’t recognize—and under that, a scent she’d know anywhere—the sweet smell of hay. “Thank you,” she said.
    “Please,” he said, “sit down.”
    She sat on the cushioned bench, and he took the seat beside her. It was an intimate table built for two, so they were almost touching shoulder to shoulder. Georgia could feel the heat emanating from him. For a moment, she remembered the way he had stood so close to her in the tent, the way his breath was so warm on her neck. She shivered.
    “Still cold?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine.”
    He offered her a plate, and she turned her attention to the tray on the table. There were fat purple plums and a hunk of blue-veined cheese, a selection of crackers and