One and Done

by Melynda Price

  His dark brow ticked up, but she couldn’t tell if he was surprised or annoyed. Either way, he wasn’t smiling, and without that flash of dimple to soften the hard angles of his handsome face, the man standing before her was surprisingly intimidating.

  “Are you following me?” he asked, with the same irritated tone Autumn had laid on him not even sixty minutes ago.

  Yep, he was pissed. Either that or he was an incredibly convincing smartass, albeit a very hot, wonderful smelling smartass—but an ass all the same. Autumn took a little deeper breath, stealing one last whiff before letting him have it. The estrogen flooding her system was making her high—or maybe she was still drunk, which was also a very real possibility.

  “I’m not following you. I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

  “In the men’s room?” He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, completely blocking the entrance.

  “No, jackass. In the women’s.” She pointed to the sign of the triangle-shaped stick person above his head. Those uniquely colored eyes followed her finger. Seeing the blush stain his cheeks was almost worth peeing her pants, because if she started to laugh, that was exactly what would have happened. “Apparently, someone can’t read. Either that, or you’re a perv and my original accusation stands. Are you following me?”

  Conceding her the victory, he stepped out of the way and held the door open for her to pass through. If she didn’t have to go so badly, Autumn would have gladly stood there and razzed him about using the women’s restroom a while longer. Now that she was in there, she could understand the confusion. The bathroom was a single stall design, but it was still funny as hell seeing that look on Doucher’s face. She closed the door behind her and locked it. By the time she came back out, he was gone, and Autumn would not admit to the small pang of disappointment that pinched her chest at the discovery.

  Chapter Two

  Balen wished he could say that getting concussed with a suitcase was the worst part of his day, but he’d just spent the last sixteen-hours hard as a rock and acutely aware of the gorgeous redhead two rows behind him. He wasn’t accustomed to women giving him the cold shoulder. If she could have seen the look on her face when he’d invited her to step past him on the plane—priceless.

  He’d have sworn to God his balls had gotten frostbite. Sadly, her snarky attitude was kind of refreshing and a little endearing. What man doesn’t love a challenge? The chase, the thrill of the hunt. Given the chance, something told him this woman would have given Balen a run for his money. She had a sharp tongue, but that didn’t bother him. It only proved she knew how to use it, and fuck, wouldn’t he love to have her using that tongue on him.

  It was a good thing he didn’t intimidate easily, because that woman could have sent a man’s dick crawling up his own ass. His fondness for redheads had gotten him into trouble more than once. And it didn’t take a genius to surmise that woman was trouble with a capital T. But holy hell was she gorgeous. He’d never seen a shade of red so dark it almost looked black. He’d thought it was until she stepped off that plane and into the sun—well, tripped actually. Come to think of it, she might have been drunk.

  And damn, those eyes… Oceanic blue—his favorite color. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to drown in them. It was a not-so-well-known fact that less than one percent of the world’s population had red hair and blue eyes. Balen wondered if she knew what a rarity she was. Just like the elusive great white buffalo. Not that he’d have told her that. In his experience, he’d never met a woman who appreciated being likened to a buffalo, and he suspected the feisty ginger would be no exception.

  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he watched his little tatanka duck into the bathroom and then slam the door behind her. Despite his exhaustion, he was still hard as a rock from her running that hot-as-fuck body into his. He hadn’t seen her coming. It was a good thing she was tiny or she would have knocked him on his ass. And now that he thought about it, Balen would love to see that girl coming—again, and again, and again…

  Glancing down, he spotted a piece of paper lying on the floor by his feet. He picked it up and skimmed the page—her declaration paper to enter Cyprus. That woman really needed to keep better track of her shit. First her sunglasses and now this? According to the form, her name was Autumn Harris. She was going to be here for seven days, and listed at the bottom was the address where she was staying. How convenient was that?

  Balen was waiting outside the restroom, more than happy for the excuse to talk to her again, when his cell went off. Fishing the device from his pocket, he checked the caller ID and muttered a curse and briefly considered ignoring the call, but that’s what he’d been doing for the last week he’d been partying it up at Big Sky. It was time to face the music, though Balen was pretty sure he’d heard the song before—same old tune, different day.

  Pocketing Autumn’s form, he swiped his thumb across the screen and moved down the hall where he could talk in private. “Bradford. Hey, man. How’s it going?” he asked with false cheer.

  “The fact that I’m calling you for the seventh time in as many days should be the answer to that question. Have you seen YouTube?”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Balen closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh. “No, but I’m guessing you have.”

  “What the hell, Balen? We talked about this. You’re supposed to be cleaning up your image. Instead, you’ve got an amateur porn video popping up on goddamn YouTube!”

  Fuck... “Hey, in my defense, I didn’t know anyone was filming that.” It was a horse-shit excuse and he knew it. But it was the best he could muster. “I’ll talk to Connor. He’ll shut it down and get the video pulled.”

  “Are you trying to self-destruct? Because I have no intention of sinking with your goddamn ship, Balen. Sex Wax called and they’re threatening to pull your sponsorship. Sex Wax. A company that has sex in the name of their product is even threatening to drop you.”

  In all fairness, Sex Wax wasn’t as exciting as it sounded, though Balen refrained from pointing that out since he didn’t think it would help his case at the moment.

  “Do you have any idea how much money you’re going to lose if they cancel your contract? You’ve got to rein it in. Clean up your image, man. Connor and I can’t keep doing damage control for you.”

  “Look on the bright side. I make your job more interesting.”

  “You give me a fucking ulcer is what you do. I should have bought stock in Pepto-Bismol when I became your agent.”

  Bradford wasn’t just his agent, they were good friends—which was probably why he felt the freedom to rip him a new asshole. Admittedly, Balen hadn’t been easy to handle lately, but he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture either. He was well aware of what social media was saying about him. Most of it was lies… Well, some of it. And now this unfortunate video incident was going viral. Fuck me.

  “It’s been eight months. It’s time to move on, man.”

  “I have moved on—a lot. Case in point, my alleged sex tape. And who knows, it probably isn’t even me on that thing.”

  “It absolutely is you, Balen. And that’s not what I mean by ‘move on’. Meet a nice girl. Settle down.”

  Nice girls? He thought he’d found one of those once. He’d been wrong. “You realize how asinine that sentence is, don’t you? You and I both know ‘nice girls’ don’t hang in the circles I run.”

  “Then create an illusion that you’ve found love, that you’re happy and finally settling down. I don’t fucking know, Balen. Just fix this. You can’t let what happened with Monica ruin you. She’s not worth it.”

  No, she absolutely wasn’t worth it. But in the last eight months, Balen had found himself spiraling down a rabbit hole he was having a damn difficult time climbing out of. Bradford was right, though not for the reasons he’d been harping about. Balen couldn’t give a shit about who sponsored him and who didn’t. He didn’t need the money and he wasn’t going to live his life pretending to be some ideological
icon he clearly wasn’t. No, he needed to take a break and get out of the limelight because the fucking pace was killing him. He needed a goddamn vacation from his life, that was what he needed.

  A vacation…wouldn’t that be nice.

  The villa was more beautiful than Autumn had imagined, with the most amazing view of the Mediterranean Sea. A pang of loneliness pinched her chest at the thought of Summer and how she wished her friend could have been here to share this with her. After taking a quick tour of the two-bedroom villa, she put her suitcase in the master suite and opened the French doors leading to a patio overlooking the beach. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the fresh sea air into her lungs before turning back and dropping onto the bed. She closed her eyes and lay there listening to the lulling sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The briny humidity tempted Autumn to lick her lips and taste the sea’s salty kiss.

  Now that she’d arrived, she was thankful to Summer for insisting she still come. She needed this vacation, needed the time away to regroup and reevaluate her life. Thirty was a birthday milestone, marking how far she’d come and how far she still had to go. There had been more failures than successes along the way, but this was also a turning point—a new leg of the race, and she was determined to finish strong. There weren’t many people who escaped their twenties unscathed, but there were a lot of life lessons learned in the midst of those mistakes, lessons that would hopefully make Autumn’s thirties smoother sailing.

  No more dwelling on the past. She was looking forward to mimosas on the beach, and getting sand in her bikini. But first, she needed to call Summer and check in to see how she was holding up and let her know she’d arrived.

  Before Autumn made the call, she decided to open her birthday present so she could thank her. After grabbing the package from her suitcase, Autumn untied the yellow ribbon and tore off the wrapping paper. She stared at the 8x8 scrapbook in her hands and began to laugh. On the cover was a picture of them taken when they were kids. They had been seven, maybe eight, at the time. It was so long ago she couldn’t remember for sure. They were dressed up in Autumn’s mother’s clothes, both wearing high heels several sizes too big. She had a pink boa around her neck and Summer was wearing a fedora. They stood there, arm in arm, grinning at the camera in baggy dresses, their make-up bold and childishly applied. They looked ridiculous and Autumn absolutely loved it. She’d forgotten all about this picture. It warmed her heart that Summer had held onto it for all those years. Above the photo were the words Best Friends Guide Book to Having Fun!

  Autumn cracked the cover and the smile on her face faltered when she read the first page titled: Day One. Get Laid.

  The words were written on the envelope glued to the scrapbook page. In the center was a big box for her to check off once the task was completed. Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened the flap of the envelope, peeking inside. An unladylike snort ripped from Autumn’s throat and she rolled her eyes at the gold foil wrapper.

  There were seven more tabs in the book, one for each day of the vacation, but she was too scared to look any further. She loved Summer dearly. That girl was her soul sister. She’d give her a kidney without batting an eye, but she was Autumn’s opposite in every way. Maybe that was why they’d always fit together so well. Where Autumn had wanted nothing more than to get married and have a family, Summer never dated the same guy twice and had no intention of ever having children. Ironic, the way things worked out sometimes. Divorced and swearing off men was not how she’d envisioned her life at thirty—not at all.

  Rallying her courage, she flipped to the next page and the page after that, and the page after that. Each day had different activities planned with the location, date, and time of the events. Where the first page had a check-off box, there was an empty space at the bottom of the other pages that said, attach photo here. Apparently, they were capturing the vacation for posterity.

  She grabbed her phone and called her friend. After checking in to see how she was holding up, Summer asked her if she’d opened her birthday present yet.

  “Yeah, I just unwrapped it. Love the picture, by the way.”

  “Thanks. It’s a copy. I couldn’t part with mine.”

  “The first page says ‘Get Laid.’”

  Summer had one of those infectious laughs. Normally, she’d have joined her, but Autumn wasn’t feeling very jovial at the moment.

  “You promised to do everything I had planned, remember?”

  She should have known not to make Summer any promises without knowing what she was getting herself into. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend had led her astray.

  “Trust me, Autumn. This will be good for you.”

  “The last time you said that to me, I got poison ivy on my ass.”

  “We were in sixth grade!” Her laughter started up again.

  At least one of them was amused.

  “Just do the things that are in the book. And might I suggest you complete the itinerary in chronological order? Blow the cobwebs out of that cooter, girlfriend, and have some fun.”

  Tact was not Summer’s strong suit. Then again, when you’ve been friends since the sandbox, it wasn’t a prerequisite.

  “It’s your birthday. Cut loose a little bit.”

  It was her birthday. Woo-hoo. Happy fricking birthday to me. “I’m not getting laid, Summer.”

  “You’re turning thirty, Autumn—”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “—not ninety. You have seven consequence-free days. Live a little. Enjoy yourself. Have some fun.”

  The problem was, Autumn didn’t think she knew how to have fun anymore. Somewhere along the way, shit happened. After a lifetime of kissing frogs, she thought she’d married her Prince Charming only to discover he was king of the lily pad. A difficult marriage and an even more painful divorce later, Autumn had stopped living. She was having a good day if she could get out of bed and make it to work before noon. Thank goodness she was her own boss or she would have fired herself a long time ago.

  Autumn wholly got how pathetic that was, and it took a lot of energy to make sure no one else figured that out too. But apparently, Summer was Nancy-fucking-Drew because she got the distinct feeling that this vacation was more than just a “girlfriend getaway”. It was an Autumn Harris makeover—home edition.

  But Summer didn’t get it. She’d never had a husband walk out on her—never had her heart ripped out and stomped on again, and again, and again by the crap-bags in this world. Probably because Summer had always been the one to do the stomping. But this wasn’t about her friend, it was about Autumn, and the day she signed those divorce papers was the day she officially decided she was done with men. Sooo…page one in this little BF Guide Book?—not gonna happen.

  “I hate you,” Autumn sighed, closing the cover of the book and tossing it aside. She could say that because Summer knew it one-hundred percent was not true. Autumn hated her life, not her best friend.

  “You love me,” Summer countered, completely unfazed by Autumn’s drama. “That’s why you’re going to follow that book—to the letter.”

  “But I’m afraid of heights,” she told her, remembering tomorrow’s page. “They make me nauseous.”

  “I know.”

  “And I have two left feet,” she complained, thinking of Saturday’s itinerary.

  Summer laughed. “I know.”

  “And... I haven’t let a man touch me since Alex.”

  Silence spanned the connection for several heartbeats. “I know.”

  She could hear the understanding in her friend’s voice. Summer did know. She was the only person who truly knew her. She knew the heartbreak Autumn went through the day she discovered Alex was cheating on her and she didn’t even get the closure and satisfaction of leaving him. Nope, he left her—told Autumn it was all her fault and walked out the door.

  Summer knew the self-doubt and insecurity Autumn battled because of Alex’s betrayal, which was possibly why her friend was p
ushing her so damn hard. “One and done, Autumn. That’s all you have to do. And that’s the beauty of this vacation. No strings. No commitment, so no possibility of a broken heart. Don’t pass up this chance. You might not get another one.”

  Summer was right, but that didn’t make what Autumn was about to do any easier.

  “You need to get your groove back, girlfriend. Get your sexy on. Prove to yourself you’ve still got it. Alex was a lying, cheating bastard. That miserable prick did not break you, Autumn. You’re stronger than that.”

  She wasn’t so sure that she was. It was easier to swear off men than consider letting one touch her again. The things in that book, they weren’t her. She wasn’t adventurous. And yet here she was, on the Island of Love, with a book full of possibilities.

  Chapter Three

  Summer was right, she needed to wipe her slate clean and ax any memory of Alex. Easier said than done. And this was a task Autumn was fully aware that she would not be able to do sober. As irresponsible as getting drunk and hooking up with some random sounded, she wasn’t a complete idiot. She had a plan. Just down the beach was a restaurant with a bar. She was going to walk there, have dinner, and pick one lucky chap from the bar to bang. Only then, once she’d made her sober selection, would the drinking commence.

  Of all the activities in Summer’s BF Guide Book, this one by far would be the most difficult to accomplish. But it was time. In her heart, Autumn knew it. She just needed the push to make it happen. As long as she remained a divorcee virgin, a part of her would always belong to Alex—and it was a part she desperately wanted back. A part she needed to take back.

  Maybe Autumn had underestimated herself and she was more ready for this than she realized. She didn’t normally react to men, and there was no doubt about it, when she’d run into Doucher at the airport, her body had given her a heeey girl! Crushed up against him, she’d felt every one of his rock-hard muscles. And his scent… Lord, have mercy. That spicy masculine scent was simply divine. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy made her that hot. Too bad it had to be the asshat on the plane who’d done it. But she’d take it as a good sign. If she could feel chemistry with him, then there was hope she’d find someone at the bar who could spark her fire. She just hoped she wasn’t working with wet wood. Before the self-doubt could begin to creep back in, Autumn pushed the thoughts of having meaningless, no strings attached sex out of mind.