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to the floor, his fringe flopping over his face.
    I checked the time. Ten-forty-five a.m. We had fifteen minutes before Jonno had told us to be by the pool to hear about the jobs he expected us to do. Eve had said it would just be a few hours each day. Another chance to do stuff together, I hoped.
    My skin smelled of other people’s cigarettes from the Garito last night. Ugh. I darted into the shower and scrubbed myself clean. When I re-emerged, towelling dry my hair, Ryan was sitting up in bed, groaning.
    “Oh, God.” He clutched theatrically at his head. “I am sooo fried.”
    “What happened?” I said.
    He groaned again. “Beaches are not all they’re cracked up to be. Not when you’re with a high-maintenance babe, anyway.”
    “What d’you mean?”
    “They’re hard and they’re cold,” he said. “Next time I’m taking blankets.”
    I grinned. “Chloe insist on going back to her room then?”
    Ryan nodded. “I was trying to sneak back up there with her, but Jonno caught me. He was out by the pool boozing with some of the guests. The man’s a freakin’ machine. Never stops. Must’ve been three a.m. He came after us. Told me to get lost. Only not so politely.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “Nice that he feels responsible for Chloe, though,” I said, more to wind Ryan up than because I thought it was true.
    Ryan snorted. “He doesn’t give a toss about Chloe. He just doesn’t want anyone male within striking distance of you-know-who.”
    My good mood deflated a little at this reminder of Jonno’s over-protective attitude to his daughter – and at Eve’s willingness to go along with it.
    “You better get ready,” I snapped. “We’ve gotta be by the pool in five.”
    Ryan lurched unsteadily out of his bed, still clutching his head. “I need more sleep,” he said. “I didn’t get back here till five-thirty.”
    I frowned. “But you said. . .?”
    “I went back to the Garito, didn’t I?” Ryan staggered into the bathroom. “More beers. More dancing. If it goes on like this I’ll be dead by Friday.”
    I heard him splashing water on his face. He reappeared in the doorway, a toothbrush in his hand, looking slightly less wrecked.
    “You were a big hit, by the way,” he said.
    “How d’you mean?”
    “Marco told me. He’s a really nice guy, you know. He said all the girls who work here were talking about you. Calling you El Rubio or something.”
    “What’s El Rubio mean?”
    “The Blonde.”
    I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was brown. Light brown. Maybe with a few blondish streaks in the fringe, but. . .
    Ryan appeared behind me in the mirror. “I know,” he said. “I told Marco you aren’t really blonde, but maybe out here they’re not so fussy. Well, clearly they’re not so fussy if they think you’re hot . . . Ow .”
    He ducked as I swung my damp towel at him.
    A massive bang on the door made us both jump.
    “Ry. Luke.” It was Chloe. “Get your arses out here. We’re going to be late.”
    We caught Chloe up by the side of the hotel. It looked completely different in the bright sunlight. A little less smart. A lot less romantic. Kids were running about everywhere, weaving their way through the trees beyond the pool area down to a packed section of beach.
    The pool area itself was bustling with people – adults lying out on the loungers and screaming kids in the water.
    As we strolled up to the pool I noticed Marco pushing a large trolley laden with towels across the decking that led down to the pool from the hotel terrace. He grinned and waved.
    I wondered vaguely where Catalina was. And then I saw Eve. She was standing with Jonno at the bar at the opposite end of the swimming pool. She was wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts and a bikini top. Jesus. I practically keeled over on the spot.
    Ryan punched my arm. “I wouldn’t let him see you looking at her like that, man,” he said.
    Gulping, I looked away.
    Seconds later Jonno loomed up in front of us.
    He