by Meghan Quinn
“It’s ten. Spend a little more time with me.”
She chuckles. “I spent almost the entire day with you.” And yet, it doesn’t feel like that at all. I want more time. I want to recreate the moment we had with her on my lap, but this time without a pesky waitress asking about refills.
“Yeah, and I still feel like I don’t know you.” I nod toward the hammock below us and say, “Come on, join me.” She’s hesitant so I add, “There will be no games played, no farting—even though there was none to begin with—and I promise to only hold your hand. Come on, I won’t bite. Have a swing with me.”
She sighs. Yes, she’s giving in to my charm. “You know, it’s hard to say no to you.”
“Good. That’s the way I like it. And remember, we’re all about saying yes on this trip. Right?”
“Right.”
She takes my hand and we head toward the stairs that lead to the hammock we spent some time in last night. Mentally, I mark the space as “our spot.” Lame maybe, but hey, live in the moment . . .
“There you are, we’ve been looking for you all day.”
Chris and Justine round the top of the stairs, hand in hand, and as they take in Rylee standing next to me, giant smiles light up their faces.
“Oh, and who might this be?” Justine asks, looking all too giddy. “Is this the girl we vouched for last night?”
Knowing this is going to lead to an embarrassing interrogation, I throw in the towel. At this point, there will be no stopping them.
“Chris, Justine, this is Rylee, the girl you spoke to last night.”
“Ooo,” Justine cheers and hops in place. “We did a good job then, didn’t we? He’s a good guy. We were right, weren’t we?”
Rylee gives me a side glance, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Yeah, he’s all right. Likes to cheat at Yahtzee, but he has to have some sort of fault, right?”
“I didn’t cheat,” I reply, exasperated.
“Oh sweetheart, the man has many more faults, just wait.” Chris grips her on the shoulder. “I could keep you up all night, running down the list of his faults.”
“Not necessary, dude. I’m sure she’ll figure them out.”
“So is this love?” Justine peers at us, her eyes watery, hands clasped together now, almost as if she’s praying for us to make babies right in front of her. She’s obviously had a little too much to drink again tonight. Parent-free vacays.
“Babe, don’t you think that’s a little soon?”
“No way, he fell in love with Christine in a day.” The moment the words leave Justine’s lips, she cringes. I don’t ever talk about Christine, my first marriage, and divorce, because it’s better for me to stay away from volatile memories that lead to dark places.
Playfully, Rylee squeezes my hand and says, “Oh my, who’s Christine? Is this my competition?”
Sobering up from the kick back to reality, I clear my throat. Fuck. No. “Not even close.” Looking at my watch, I say, “You know what, it’s getting kind of late. I’m going to take a raincheck on the hammock.” I release Rylee’s hand, not missing the confusion in her eyes.
I know what I’m doing. I can see from afar how I’m turtling in on myself and hiding from the world, from the truth of my life. But I know myself well enough that if I go to that hammock with Rylee, she’ll ask about Christine, and I’m not ready to go there. I’m not sure I’ll ever have that conversation with Rylee. This is a fling, a short stint of fun in our lives, no use dragging it down with my past.
My sordid past that will keep me up all night.
“Are you sure?” Rylee asks, concerned.
“Yeah. Kind of just hit a wall.” I glance at Chris and Justine particularly. She looks like she’s about to cry. When we make eye contact, she mouths, “I’m sorry.” I give her an understanding nod and a curt wave. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Turning toward Rylee, I say, “Have a good night. Thanks for today.”
Without another word, I make it inside my hotel room and flop on my bed, my gaze cast toward the ceiling, forcing my eyes to stay open, to focus on the texture of the paint, of the color of the blades attached to the ceiling fan.
If I close my eyes, I’ll see it all. I’ll see the shattered cars, the crimson-tinted asphalt, the deployed and battered airbags, and the lifeless form in the driver’s seat of the car.
The car I hit.
I can’t.
I can’t close my eyes.
Sirens sound off in the distance.
I hear the crunching of the jaws of life.
Yelling from first responders to clear onlookers.
My breathing picks up, becoming labored as my body starts to involuntarily shake.
Fuck.
My mouth goes dry. The smell of alcohol hits me, even though I know there is none in my room. My palms become clammy, and a cool sweat breaks out along my skin. I’m drifting, and fast. Not wanting to head into the space I know will eat me alive for the rest of my trip, I do the one thing I know will calm my racing heart.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and press down on speed dial one.
Two rings, that’s all it takes.
“Beck?”
I swallow hard, my hand rubbing my brow, trying to rid it of the thoughts crashing uncontrollably through my mind. There is some muffling over the phone and then the distinct sound of a door being shut. Cal comes back on the line. “Talk to me.”
Breathe. Fucking breathe. “I don’t know what’s happening. Justine mentioned Christine, and all of a sudden, my mind started tumbling in on itself.” I take a deep breath. “Christine has never been a huge trigger point for me, but for some reason, the mere mention of her name has my stomach flipping and my heart racing.”
“Where are you?”
“In my room.”
“Anything in there that can get you in trouble?” Cal always gets straight to the point. Thank fuck.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Go grab a cup of water, and then let’s recite the serenity prayer.”
Doing as told, I fill a coffee mug full of tap water, take a few big gulps, and then set the cup on the table.
As if second nature, Cal and I both start reciting the AA serenity prayer.
“God, give me the grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed. Courage to change the things which should be changed and the wisdom to distinguish one from the other . . .”
Chapter Eight
RYLEE
Knock. Knock.
. . .
Pound. Pound.
. . .
Pound. Pound. Pound. “Rylee, I know you’re in there. Open up.”
“Mmm,” I grumble, shielding my eyes from the light peeking through the blinds.
“Rylee, open the door.” Pound. Pound. Pound.
I turn away from the door and cuddle closer into my pillow.
“Ouch, I, uh, I was stung by a jellyfish, quick come here and pee on my leg.” More pounding.
“That’s a lie,” I shout.
“Ehh, you’re right. But now that I know you’re in there, open the door. I have coffee . . .”
Damn him. Damn him and his coffee-fetching ways. Peering an eye open, I take a look at the clock. It’s half past ten? Wow, that’s later than I usually sleep in.
Maybe because I was up all night wondering who this Christine girl was and why the mention of her name made such an impact on Beck. And then I chastised myself for half the night, reminding my little wandering brain that this is a fling, and I don’t care about Christine or why Beck shut down. Because in a few days, I won’t see this man again.
Needless to say, my brain is tired, my body is exhausted, and the only reason I’m flipping my bedding off my body is because I want coffee. Because I NEED coffee.
I open the door to my room, run my hand over my face, and hold out the other. As if I was locked and loaded with the Jedi force, the cup of coffee magically appears in my hand and I take a long sip without ever truly opening
my eyes.
The hot liquid scalds my mouth, making a wave of warmth down my throat.
Clearing his throat, Beck says, “Uh, mind if I come in so we can shut the door?”
“Whatever,” I mumble, drinking more coffee.
The door shuts with a slam, and I can feel Beck’s presence inch closer and closer, his breathing almost erratic, heavy.
I peep an eye open, just one, and look him up and down. Long legs clad in a pair of khaki shorts with a black shirt spanning across his developed chest, thick and strong. Simple, but sexy. He’s all male, every inch of him, especially when he looks at me like that, as if he’s about to devour me in seconds. My nipples harden, the breeze of the fan igniting goosebumps over my skin, and I’m more than aware of the carnal way he’s casually licking his lips and the hungry spark in his eyes.
Hands clenching his sides, his voice strained, he asks, “Do you always sleep topless, Rylee?”
Huh?
Topless?
Coffee halfway to my mouth, I look down. Well by golly, take a look at those tits, out in the open for everyone to see. Laughing nervously, I slowly cover them with the hand that’s not holding my coffee and say, “In Key West I apparently do. But hey, at least I’m wearing a thong. I have that going for me.”
Looking very uncomfortable, Beck pulls on the back of his neck. “It’s not easy for a guy to have a door opened and a hot girl appear, topless. Do you know what kind of self-control it takes to not press you against the wall and suck your nipples into my mouth?”
Cue the wave of heat scorching up my spine. A slow, beating pleasure thrums between my legs from the thought of Beck’s mouth on my breasts. Hot and tingly, I ache for his touch.
Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that at all.
Not one bit.
“Have at it,” I say right before I take another sip of my coffee, feeling less modest than before. He’s seen them already, so it’s nothing new to him. “Just don’t knock this coffee out of my hand when you’re doing all the sucking. And hey, do you mind if I lie down while you do it. I still feel sleepy.”
I go to lie on the bed to cuddle with my cup when a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me against Beck’s very strong and tightly corded body.
Well, good morning to me.
“Listen here, Saucy.” His breath tickles my exposed skin. “I’m not about to devour those delicious tits of yours while you’re half awake. So what’s going to happen instead is you’re going to hop in the shower, wake yourself up, and then we’re going on a helicopter ride.”
Errr, did I just hear him correctly? A helicopter ride?
“Repeat that?” He’s so close, I have to bend back to look at him, and when I do, I’m met with a pair of hazel eyes that for some reason, I never noticed the depths of before. They’re beautiful with a gold center and green wrapped around the outer edge. The corner of his eyes look weathered, but his actual pupils are bright and full of hope. I don’t think he’s kidding about this helicopter thing.
“I’m taking you on a helicopter ride around the island and out to sea to explore some marine life.”
“You’re serious?”
He nods. “I am, and the helicopter takes off in thirty minutes, so you have about ten minutes to get ready.”
Hell. Taking my thong off is going to require at least five minutes from the pace I’m moving this morning.
“Come on.” He ushers me to the bathroom, turns on the shower and smacks my ass before taking my coffee and exiting the shower area.
“Excuse me, I need my coffee back.”
He steps away when I try to grab for it. “You’ll get it once you’re ready to go.”
“That’s devil-level torture right there. You realize that, right?”
“I’m aware of the dangerous position I’ve put myself in by taking your coffee, but I’m also aware of how much fun you’re going to have, so I will do almost anything to get you moving. Now hurry up, Rylee, we have some flying in the sky to do today.”
And just like that, he shuts the door, leaving a small smile on my face.
And there he is.
The Beck I’ve come to know over the past two days.
Free-spirited.
Happy.
In his element.
The man who’s propelling me into the shower so I can spend a few more hours during this vacation with him, soaking up his ability to live life to its fullest.
The Uber ride to the airport is quiet. Beck spends most of the time staring out the window at the ocean, his hand pressed into his lap instead of linked with mine.
I’m tempted to ask him about last night, to question him about Christine, but I refrain, not wanting to set him off again. This is temporary, so don’t get too emotionally involved. Although, my creative mind is running a mile a minute, trying to figure out why Christine is such a hot-button topic for Beck.
Is she an ex-girlfriend? Someone he never got closure with?
Is she a current girlfriend he never told me about? I sure as hell hope not. Surely his friends wouldn’t encourage me about him if he had a girlfriend.
Is Beck a widower? I think it would break my heart if he was, which is another reason why I’m keeping my mouth shut and turning off that rabbit trail of questioning sounding off in my head.
When we arrive at the airport, we’re directed to the private section where a cute Australian blonde with a killer accent greets us. Our pilot.
“You must be Beck, and this is your new bride.” Oh here we go again, Beck and Rylee, the newlyweds.
Beck reaches out a hand and shakes it while squeezing me close to his side. “And you must be Callie. Pleasure meeting you.”
“Pleasure is mine. I’m excited to be your pilot and tour guide today. Newlyweds are my favorite; they’re probably the most fun since they’re in a constant state of bliss.”
“Totally in a fog of bliss, aren’t we, baby?” Beck gently runs his nose along my cheek and up to my temple where he places a kiss, causing my stomach to drop and my toes to tingle. It’s only one kiss, but when it’s combined with his velvety voice, his grip on my arm, his all-encompassing scent, and the press of his soft lips, I have pins and needles and am begging for more of his lips on mine.
Controlling my rapidly beating heart, I nod. “Totally.” Reaching out my hand, I shake Callie’s and introduce myself.
After we exchange a few pleasantries, we load into a golf cart and Callie drives us to her bright yellow helicopter that is much smaller than I would have expected. When she starts to run through her safety checks, I lean into Beck and say, “I thought you didn’t lie.”
“When did I lie?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Uh, pretty sure we’re not married, and we’re not on our honeymoon.”
He chuckles. “Eh, that’s more of a joke than anything. I mean, it’s a given at this point that we’re married. We’ve been through so much together already. Puke apocalypse, a funeral, nakedness, the Yahtzee chronicles, and of course the adoption of Pearl Turtle Titty Tata.”
“Hey.” I point my finger at him. “That turtle is entirely yours. I took no part in giving that thing a home. Pearl is all on you.”
He presses his hand against his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you don’t love our child. We birthed her together, and for you to just pass her off, as if . . . as if she’s some monstrosity, that doesn’t sit well with me.”
I pat his cheek and playfully say, “You’ll survive.”
“Okay, all set,” Callie calls out, pulling our attention away from each other. “Hop up on the platform, and I’ll take a picture of you two.”
Before I can tell her we don’t need a picture, Beck hands her his phone and picks me up into a cradle position. He effortlessly hops up on the platform, holding me close to his chest and nods at the camera. “Smile, Saucy.”
Without giving it a second thought, while my hands are wrapped around his neck, I smile.
“Ugh, you two are just too adorable
.” She hands Beck back the phone and then gets us situated in the helicopter.
Let me just tell you this. Beck is a tall, broad man. Easily he’s six two, six three, which is even more pronounced given the way his body is crouched and stuffed into the small space of the helicopter’s backseat. It’s almost comical.
Callie takes some oil from under one of the seats and pours it into the engine as Beck hands me his phone. “Plug your number in there so I can send you that picture.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You want my number?”
“Yeah, I do. Don’t give me a hard time and plug it in.”
“How can I trust you? How do I know you’re not going to sign me up on a dozen telemarketer’s lists?”
“I make no promises.” He winks and then nudges me. “Come on, just give me your number so I can send you the picture . . . and bug you in the middle of the night with meaningless text messages.”
“Ooo, meaningless text messages, now that’s what I’m talking about.” I enter my phone number along with my name.
In seconds, after I hand Beck his phone back, I receive a text message from a strange number. When I open it, I read the text out loud. “Your husband thinks you look sexy in that dress.”
This man.
Wanting to accept his compliment, I say, “Thank you.”
Pinching my chin with his forefinger and thumb he replies, “I mean it, Saucy.”
Those hazel eyes, that voice, the sincerity in his every movement . . . Yup, Sunday is going to suck . . . when I have to say goodbye.
Honestly, I think it was really rude of the marine life to hang out on your side of the helicopter and not mine.” This was my first time ever riding in a helicopter, or taking an aerial tour of an island and ocean, and of course, I had to lean over Beck’s lap the entire time to get any good glimpses at sharks and turtles. And I think you and I both know Beck had no problem with having me in his lap. Then again, when he was lightly stroking my hair, leaning over with me, talking about all the different animals we were seeing, it was sweet; an intimate moment I can still feel.