Spring Fling

by Claudia Burgoa

  Did it even matter anymore?

  “I’ll leave you two to your pre-wedded bliss,” I said, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. “Enjoy!”

  “Nat,” Brad called behind me.

  I knew that tone. He wanted something, something he knew he had no right to ask for.

  “It’s Natalie.” I corrected, shooting him a dark look.

  “Make some time later. I’d like to talk to you.”

  “What?” Lauren chirped.

  “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

  “It won’t take long,” he said, awkward.

  “Just say it right now, then.” Lauren invited.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, Brad. Just say it right now.”

  “Never mind,” he muttered. Putting his arm around Lauren, he nudged her. “Come on. Let’s go check out the pool.”

  The sudden sensation of being watched crawled over me, and I spun, gazing around. Across the large patio, a man sat at a bistro-style table with a single drink in front of him. Awareness tingled through my limbs, and even though he wore a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, I knew he was the one staring.

  Fingers tightening around the handle of my luggage, I glared a moment longer, the pair of us locked in some kind of weird staring contest.

  Just as I was about to break away and rush inside, he moved. Reaching up with one well-defined arm, he slid the hat around so the bill was against his neck and I could fully see his face.

  My mouth ran dry, and dammit, if my stomach didn’t do a funny little flip.

  Lounging back, he folded his hands over his flat midsection, still staring. “Hey.” He didn’t say it particularly loud, not the way most would have, considering the distance between us.

  It didn’t matter. His richer-than-honey voice slid right over me.

  Instead of going inside, I walked to his table. The piercing cool blue of his stare stripped me bare. Pretending he had no effect on me whatsoever, I halted beside him.

  “Kyle, what are you doing here?”

  “Same thing you are.”

  I couldn’t help but gape. “Are you kidding me? My sister invited you to her wedding?”

  Leaning his elbow on the table, he lifted his glass and took a sip. My eyes strayed to the tattoo running down the inside of his bicep, disappearing beneath his black T-shirt. “She’s a piece of work.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  His teeth flashed, and his low laugh made my stomach burn.

  “Why would she invite you? Why would you come?”

  “To make herself feel better?” He guessed. “Because if I came, then she could fool herself into believing we are friends and what she did was okay?”

  “You can’t actually believe that.”

  “Me? Hell no,” he drawled. “But you asked me why I thought she invited me.”

  “You came knowing that?” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest. “You’re saying you came to make her feel better about cheating on you?”

  “I’m not that much of a choir boy.” He chuffed, then kicked out the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

  “I’m busy.” I lied.

  He chuckled again. How many times was he going to do that? And when did he grow a beard?

  “You like?” he asked, rubbing the scruffy jawline.

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “You asked me when I grew a beard.”

  I said that out loud?

  “Do you like it?”

  It’s sexy as hell, and honestly, I’ve always wondered what that kind of scruff would feel like between my legs. “It’s all right.” I shrugged.

  He winked at me like he knew better.

  Then I had to stand there and worry I actually said that thought out loud, too. Clearing my throat, I returned to the previous conversation. “If you didn’t come for her, then why did you come?”

  “A tropical vacation sounded nice.”

  “A root canal sounds better than this.”

  Those piercing eyes shifted to mine, and again, we got stuck in that staring contest thing.

  “I had my reasons,” he finally said, sounding truthful.

  Too bad his truth was convoluted as hell.

  “Natalie!” my mom hollered from somewhere behind me.

  I cringed. “Please tell me she didn’t see me,” I whispered to Kyle.

  “‘Fraid so,” he whispered back. “She’s coming over here.”

  I groaned.

  “There you are.” Mom stopped beside me. “I wanted to give you this,” she said, ruffling through her bag to pull out some kind of pamphlet with an appointment reminder written on it. “Your appointment in the spa is in an hour.”

  “Mom,” I complained. “I told you I don’t want to go.”

  “I already paid. Besides, a massage will help get rid of all the tension you’re holding in your shoulders.”

  Were all families like this? Or was I just the lucky one?

  Kyle laughed under his breath, and Mom suddenly realized I wasn’t alone.

  “Kyle,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Lauren invited me.”

  “Yes.” Mom laughed nervously. “That’s my Lauren, wanting to include everyone.”

  “Oh, is that why she slept with Brad?” I wondered. “She wanted to include him.”

  “Natalie Michelle!” Mom hissed, smacking me on the shoulder.

  I made a face and laid my hand where she hit me.

  Kyle unfolded from the chair, and suddenly, it felt I was standing in the shade of an umbrella. He wasn’t as tall as Brad, but he was broader… more imposing.

  “Mrs. Wallace,” he said, taking her hand. “It sure is nice to see you again. You look prettier than ever.”

  Mom forgot about me and glowed under his compliment. “Well, thank you, Kyle. I sure have missed seeing you.”

  “Can I give you a hand with your bag?”

  I made a face at him. He sure was piling on the charm.

  “Oh, no,” Mom insisted. “You stay here and enjoy the sun and your drink. I’ll see you day after tomorrow at the wedding. Don’t forget your appointment.” She reminded me, then went off in search of Dad.

  When she was out of sight, Kyle shifted closer. “It’s been hard on you.”

  “Me?” I scoffed. “No harder than it’s been on you. We both got cheated on.”

  He made a sound. “I could walk away, but not you.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, then saw his drink sitting there on the table. Without asking, I snatched it up and downed all of it in one long swallow. I was coughing when I handed him the empty glass.

  “Jack Daniels,” I rasped, my throat on fire. “My favorite.”

  “Can I get you another?” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

  “Can’t,” I said swiftly. “I have a massage.”

  I hightailed it into the resort without looking back. My backstabbing sister, my ex, and my first crush (who, okay, maybe I never really stopped crushing on) all in one place for the next five days…

  I must have been one heck of a nasty bitch in my previous life, because this was going to be hell.

  * * *

  * * *

  I never really understood the appeal of a massage. I mean, yes, for people with sore, tight muscles, it offered much-needed relief. And I supposed many people thought going for one was relaxing.

  I was weird.

  Unlike most of the population, the idea of getting a massage gave me the heebie-jeebies. I did not want to strip down to my skivvies, wander into some private room in a robe, and lie face down on a table while some weird-ass music played in the background and “soothing” candles filled the room with calming fragrance.

  And don’t even get me started on some person I didn’t know from Adam rubbing me down.

  How is any of that relaxing exactly?

  For all I know, Helga (that would be the masseuse) was just in the
back room clipping her toenails or going to the bathroom without washing her hands before appearing to work the tension out of my muscles.

  Nasty. Maybe I should have taken Kyle up on that second drink before I showed up here.

  Too late now. I was already mostly naked beneath the spa robe and being directed into a private room. As soon as the door closed behind me, I looked at the massage table and tried to calm the squirmy feeling it gave me.

  “It’s just a massage,” I told myself. “Get out of your own head so you can enjoy it.”

  Feeling brave from the mini pep talk, I took off the robe and lay on the table, making sure my hips and butt were draped in a white towel. Instead of music, the sound of ocean waves filled the dim room, which I actually found quite soothing. Rather than candles, there were several bowls of crystals lit all around the space.

  Just when I started to relax, the door opened and closed, the masseuse entering on light feet.

  I didn’t lift my head. I kept it down in the little headrest thingy and shut my eyes. I was afraid to look, afraid it would make it more awkward than it already was.

  The person said nothing, just quietly moved around the room for a few moments before coming to stand right beside the table. I tried to relax my body, but it was hard. I kept anticipating their unfamiliar hands touching me.

  A warm drizzle of oil hit the center of my back, making me flinch, but as it slid over my skin, I let out a breath.

  A pair of large hands settled on me and began to rub with the perfect amount of pressure. At first, all I could think about was how I didn’t even know this person. We hadn’t even said hello. But then those thoughts became muted, and a blanket of satisfaction draped over me. The more those skilled hands worked, the more I forgot I didn’t like this.

  One large, warm palm wrapped around the back of my neck and squeezed, thick fingers sliding up to knead the base of my skull. My entire body prickled with awareness, with pleasure, and I groaned.

  The involuntary sound of enjoyment jolted me, and embarrassment coiled in my belly. Just because I was nearly melting on this table under the ministrations of some faceless no-name didn’t mean I had to act like it!

  Good Lord.

  I waited for the masseuse to say something, but he didn’t even pause. He kept stroking, working his thumbs against the muscles at the tops of my hips. I didn’t even know I was sore there… but oh, this felt so incredible.

  This had to be a man. The size and strength in his hands made my eyes roll back in my skull and another low sigh escape my lips.

  Slowly, he kneaded my shoulders, dipping his hands under my collarbones and massaging there, too. My breasts tingled, almost begging for his hands to drop a little bit lower. Before pulling back, one hand went around the front of my throat, cupping it, giving it a squeeze.

  Arousal so intense gripped me, my hands fisted at my sides.

  What was wrong with me? How could I lie there like that and become so turned on by a stranger?

  Slightly dizzy and out of it, a moment passed before I realized his hands were no longer on me.

  “Is the time up already?” I asked, my voice sounding suspiciously drunk. I would have sat up, but the hand returned, pushing at the center of my back until I was lying flat once more.

  The same warm oil cascaded over the backs of my legs, and surprise rippled through me. He was going to do my legs, too? I was a weak, weak woman. For all the posturing I did before about how weird massages were… here I was draped across this table, practically drooling, enjoying the crap out it.

  Almost as if he knew, his hand slipped between my legs, his thumb gliding under the towel to caress the bottom of my ass cheek.

  I stopped breathing. My entire body stilled.

  Perhaps it had been an accident. I mean, the oil was slippery, after all. I lay there concentrating on the person over me, his hands, and where he might touch next.

  His hand slid between my thighs again, grazing my panties.

  “Whoa!” I exclaimed, jolting upright and spinning. Using my arms as a barricade for my bare chest, I blinked quickly, trying to chase away the haze of stimulation clouding my vision. “I’m pretty sure that’s inappropriate,” I declared, breathless.

  I was a wicked wench, because even though it was totally inappropriate, my body hummed and begged for more.

  “I think you liked it.”

  It is a man. And his voice is just like honey… My eyes bugged. “Kyle!”

  “I’m pretty good with my hands. Am I right?” He smirked and held up his fingers, which were dewy with the oil.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I whisper-yelled. “Are you some kind of pervert?”

  “Depends,” he said, putting a hand on either side of me and leaning in. “You into perverts?”

  “Oh my gosh!” I shoved him back. “Do you have any idea how much nerve it even took for me to come in here? And you think it’s a joke!”

  The humor left his expression. “I don’t think this is a joke.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Never,” he intoned, looking me over. “Felt good, right?” The intensity of his eyes made my stomach drop. I couldn’t even force a denial out of my lips because I was so turned on. I could feel my hard nipples pressed against my arm.

  “How did you get in here?” I asked, not acknowledging the question.

  “Told the masseuse you were my girlfriend and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You definitely did,” I muttered. Then I realized what else he’d said. “You told her what? I have to go,” I insisted, gazing around for my robe. It was across the room. “Hand me that.” I pointed.

  “No.”

  “No?” I fumed. “I ought to scream right now.”

  “You aren’t going to do that.”

  Gosh, he was arrogant.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not done yet.” He gestured for me to lie back down.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Your mom was right. You are very tense.” Grabbing me by the shoulders, he forced me back down.

  “Kyle!”

  “If you would have talked to me outside, I wouldn’t have resorted to these measures.”

  A choking sound filled the room. “You could have just said you wanted to talk.”

  He started massaging again, and damn, if my body didn’t practically sing with relief. Forgetting I was pissed off, I lay there while he rubbed, his hands like silk sliding over me.

  “You’re really good at this,” I admitted, my eyes drifting shut.

  He chuckled.

  “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Did you bring a date to the wedding?”

  Lifting my head, I made a face. “No. I’ve sworn off men.”

  “Now why would you want to do something stupid like that?”

  “Maybe because I’m about to watch my sister marry my high school sweetheart?” I quipped, sarcastic.

  “You were always too good for him anyway.”

  I sat up and smacked his hands away. “Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a ton better.”

  Grabbing a towel, he wiped the oil off his fingers. “You know what will make you feel better?”

  “Getting the hell out of here?”

  “Be my date to the wedding.”

  Maybe I was still drunk on the feel-good hormones released throughout my body when he was massaging me. “Huh?”

  “Seems like pretty sweet revenge to me. The jilted exes showing up together, acting like they don’t have a care in the world.”

  Over the last six months, I’d fantasized a lot about getting revenge on Lauren and Brad. I’d even plotted some ways to exact it. But when it came down to it, I never bothered. I was too exhausted. Too weighed down by hurt. And now… Now I just wanted to move on.

  “I don’t care about revenge.”

  “All right then, forget the revenge. Go with me to have a good time.”

  “I don’t think
anything could make me have a good time this week.”

  “I like a challenge,” Kyle boasted, a twinkle in his eyes.

  I was tempted. Sorely tempted. Here was this guy I’d crushed on for so long and was secretly hurt when my sister brought him home, holding his hand…

  Wait.

  I sat up straighter, realizing something.

  “Natalie?” he asked, concerned, noting the change in my expression.

  Oh my God. She did it back then, too.

  “Natalie.” Kyle grabbed my shoulders, giving me a little jolt.

  I met his eyes, my heart aching. “I’m so stupid.”

  “What?”

  “She’s always been like this, hasn’t she?”

  “Lauren?”

  I nodded. “She always wanted what I did. She always took it, too.”

  My head was reeling. How much had she taken from me while I was too naive to notice?

  “Here.” Kyle nudged me, holding out my robe.

  Glancing down, I realized my arms had fallen to my sides, exposing my naked chest. Oddly, I wasn’t embarrassed that he’d seen. I was just too numb.

  He grabbed my arm as I got down from the table, keeping a steadying hand on me while I straightened. Slipping my arms into the robe, he moved around in front of me to pull it closed and tie the belt.

  “Lauren was always obsessed with beating you. I thought you guys had the whole sibling competition thing going on.”

  “I never knew.”

  “Yeah,” he said, surprised. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

  Maybe it was the understanding in his tone, the fact that he’d just had his hands all over my body, or that he’d seen me practically naked… but I was comfortable with him, comfortable enough to admit a secret I’d been keeping for years and years.

  “I had a secret crush on you… since eighth grade. I used to go to all your basketball games. You were a really good player.”

  “I didn’t see you there,” he said, and I shook my head.

  “The only person I ever told was Lauren,” I confessed. “She told me you wouldn’t be interested in a girl two years younger and I should forget about you and date someone my own age.”

  He frowned. “She told you that?”