by Lush, Tamara
“Yeah, I think so. Hawaiian shirt?”
“That’s our uniform for the staff. Didn’t you notice?”
“Ah. No. I’ve been busy with contractors.” I scratch my chin, unsure about the idea of dressing the staff like extras in an Elvis surfing movie. Sometimes my family is brilliant, other times they’re absurd.
“I think it was James. I’ll let him know.”
“Yeah, please do, because the woman busted in on me when I was in a rather compromising position.”
Natalia turns and smacks me on the chest with her free hand. “You pig. You couldn’t even wait until after the wedding to pick someone up and screw them?”
“No! Christ, it wasn’t like that. I was alone.”
My sister stares, horrified. “Swine,” she whispers.
“I wasn’t doing anything! I swear. I was naked and scratching.”
“Men are animals,” she mutters.
“It’s hot, and I was itchy.”
Right then, Tate walks over. He’s the second oldest of the bunch, but because he’s nearest in age to Nat, they’ve always been close. Nat and Tate. Damien and Remy, the twins.
I’m the lone wolf.
“Is he already talking about his bowel movements?” he says to Nat while slapping me on the back.
“Hello to you, too, councilor.” Tate’s one of the youngest, and most successful, attorneys on the island. When he graduated from law school at the University of Florida, I encouraged him to apply to firms in New York.
But like Nat and Remy, he wanted to stay here on Paradise Beach. He’s an environmental lawyer and is almost certainly running for state representative.
Natalia fiddles with a lock of hair and tucks it behind her ear. She points to me. “No, he was telling me how the desk programmed some other guest’s key to his room, and she walked in on him scratching his balls.”
“It was sticky and so were my balls.”
Tate laughs. I can always make him laugh with crude jokes.
“So who was this mystery woman? If she had a room, she must be here for the wedding. Let’s try to figure out who walked in and saw Max naked. The grandmother of the bride, perhaps?” Nat dissolves into giggles.
As Tate snorts out a laugh, I grin and crane my neck, looking at the guests on the beach. Most are clustered around high-top tables set on a deck, but others, like Nat, Tate and me, are standing in the fine, white sugar sand, barefoot.
“I’d like to find her again, that’s for sure,” I murmur. “At least, before Tate does.”
“I’m done with women for a while.” Tate raises a dark eyebrow and gives me a meaningful look. He broke up with his latest girlfriend about six months ago, which was a surprise to exactly no one. Tate and Remy have a reputation around the island for being commitment-phobes.
“Sure, whatever.”
“I am. Sick of complications. I need to get comfortable with myself.”
I turn to Natalia. “I think he’s been reading Mom’s New Age self-help books.”
“What did she look like?” Nat asks, ignoring my comments about our brother.
“She had long dark hair, curly. Bright blue eyes. Was wearing a blue and white striped dress. Gorgeous legs. God, her legs, they were—”
Tate rolls his eyes and wanders off. “Good luck with the mystery woman,” he calls out.
I shoot him a sideways glare.
Nat also cranes her neck, so we both resemble meerkats looking over the horizon.
“Ooh, I see a striped dress. Over there, near the volleyball net. Close to the shirtless guy with the tattoo of angel wings on his back.”
I swivel my head and squint. The sun is low, over the Gulf, and about an hour from setting. “Where? Jesus, don’t point. No, that’s not her. Hair’s not dark enough. Not curvy enough, either.”
I scan a group of people at the high top-tables.
“Where’d all these people come from? I don’t recognize any of them from the island.”
Natalia stares at me. “They’re people Max has met over the years. Some are from the mainland. And you wouldn’t know anyone. You’ve been gone too long. Things have changed, Max.”
“No shit. I feel like a tourist.” A pang of remorse goes through me. At one time I knew everyone on Paradise Beach.
My eyes go to the bar, which is about thirty feet away. It’s a small wooden shack, a true beach hut, and there are two people standing with their backs to the counter, staring in our general direction. I look around, and we’re the only ones near a platform set up for a DJ, with turntables. I assume they’re looking at us.
“Aha,” I say softly. “There she is.”
Looking even more beautiful in the golden hour of a sunset. My heart beats hard and fast a few times.
I take in her tangle of curls first. They’re cascading over her shoulders, and I think about how I’d love to gather her hair in my hands while kissing her. My eyes skim down her slender arms and hands, which are holding a bottle of water. She’s standing next to a woman in a T-shirt and shorts, someone else I don’t recognize.
“Where?” Nat yelps.
“Right there, the brunette. Near the bar. Holding the water. Don’t stare. Is she Damien’s ex?”
Is the woman looking at me? I can’t tell because of the angle of the setting sun. I grin wider and raise my hand to wave. The woman isn’t smiling back. Or returning my wave. The woman next to her, a tall brunette, waves back, thinking I’m gesturing at her.
“Ooh, she’s cute,” squeals Nat. “It’s not one of Damien’s exes. That’s Lauren, the maid of honor. Kate’s best friend.”
My sister jabs me in the ribs with her elbow.
The maid of honor? Hmm. Intriguing on all levels.
I wonder if this Lauren creature knows how and why Kate and my brother fell for each other so fast.
I also wonder if she’s the kind of woman who enjoys no-strings-attached wedding weekend sex.
Admittedly, the two thoughts are at odds with each other, but hey, cognitive dissonance is a predictor of intelligence.
Isn’t there some sort of law that says the best man and the maid of honor should hook up if both are single?
Jesus, I hope she’s single.
“Excuse me,” I say to Nat. “I’ve got to make my acquaintance with the woman I’ll be walking down the aisle with.”
I keep my eyes fixed on the beautiful Lauren as I make my way over the crowded beach. At one point, she turns around and catches my eye. I wink.
And then she slips away into a cluster of people, as if she’s avoiding me.
Five
Lauren
I’m deep into a conversation about paddleboarding with a woman whose name I’ve forgotten when I see him.
The guy with the nice body. The guy who was jacking off when I walked into his room. The guy with the gorgeous blue eyes who confidently brought me the beer.
He’s grinning. He’s handsome. And I wonder if he’s available for the night.
I clear my throat and turn back to the woman. She knows Kate because she lives down the street from Kate’s mom. Apparently she’s gotten Kate out on the water several times, a fact my BFF hasn’t shared with me. She’s not all that athletic, so this is surprising news.
Then again, Kate sent me a photo of her jogging on the beach, so maybe she’s changed. A pang of jealousy shoots through me. My best friend is leaving me behind.
“Damien and Kate go paddleboarding and kayaking all the time, so I figured Kate would love to paddle.”
Kate? Kayaking? I raise an eyebrow.
“Seriously, you’ve never paddled?” She looks at me as if I’ve committed a crime.
“I’ve kayaked and canoed, never paddled. I travel a lot, though,” I offer in my defense, glancing over at the hot guy’s mop of golden curls. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m actually supposed to try it in Dubai in a few weeks.”
“Really? Oh my God, that’s so cool. Kate told me all about your journeys as a social media
influencer. What else are you going to do in Dubai?”
I grin, thinking of the itinerary Ahmed had sent me. “Camels, desert safari, helicopter tours, indoor skiing.”
The woman squeals, then chirps about how I should borrow a board while I’m here and paddle the intracoastal—or is it intercoastal? I’m not from Florida and get the two confused. I nod thoughtfully. Getting out on the water would be fun, and I’ll bet it would make for some great shots with my new GoPro, especially at sunset. It really is gorgeous here.
But I’m not here to work. I’m here for Kate and speaking of? Where is she? I still haven’t seen her since my arrival; she’d responded to my texts with a few breezy words.
“I usually like pools and lounging. I’m a little afraid of sea creatures,” I joke.
“The alligators only live in freshwater, not salt. There was a report of a crocodile a while back, and they live in salt water. But I don’t believe we have crocs yet.”
I’m not fully sure what this means or certain I want to find out. I smile wanly.
What’s this woman’s name? Carmen? Carm? Something that begins with a C. I take a sip of water. She’s not in the wedding party, so maybe I don’t need to remember her name. She’s telling me about a paddleboard yoga class now.
“No one wants to see me attempt that; I’d resemble a sea lion,” I say, and she laughs. God, where the hell’s Kate? Should I look for her or go up to Hot Masturbating Guy?
We’re standing near a tiki hut, and I’m holding a bottle of water that’s sweating harder than I am. My hands are uncomfortably damp from the condensation, and I keep wiping them casually on the skirt of my dress.
I’m trying to sort out how I’m going to extricate myself from this conversation when my conversation companion giggles and waves to someone. She does a wiggle-finger wave, which annoys me a little. I look in the direction of her wiggling fingers.
Ohhh. She’s waving at him. My naked neighbor. He’s standing near a woman with long, pale blue hair and is grinning in our direction. He’s not doing the finger-waggle wave. No, he’s holding up a big hand and moving it slightly back and forth.
“God, he is so hot,” the woman next to me says, practically swooning.
I clear my throat. He’s definitely disconcertingly handsome, now that I’m seeing him in the clear light of the outdoors. He looks like some sort of beach god. His sunkissed skin, His broad shoulders, his curly, longish hair glinting in the fading sunlight. I already know how muscular his legs are. Now, he looks like he might rip off his clothes and body surf at any second. I imagine him naked in the water and shift my weight from foot to foot.
It’s been too damned long since I’ve been with a guy.
“Yeah, he’s okay,” I say dismissively. “Who is he, anyway?”
The woman turns to me and makes a little snorting sound. “Okay? He’s incredible. That’s Max Hastings, Damien’s brother. The best man at the wedding. Rich as hell, does something in New York with real estate. Homecoming king of Beach High almost twenty years ago. You didn’t know? You haven’t met him? And that’s his sister, Natalia, with the blue hair.”
Well. This is escalating quickly. Kate had mentioned a guy named Max and how we’d be walking down the aisle together.
I saw the best man naked? Awesome. Yeah, that’s about my luck.
“I got in this afternoon. And I guess I have made his acquaintance.” A laugh escapes my lips because I’m thinking about him with the pillow pressed to his crotch. “I’ve met him, all right.”
The woman sighs. “He came over to Kate’s mom’s house with Damien the other day. He was shirtless. I can’t forget that image. Don’t want to.”
She blushes. Who knew people actually blushed?
“Well. I need to have a word with Max Hastings about rehearsal. I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you! Excuse me.” His name rolls off my tongue easily.
I’m about to turn in his direction when I spot Kate under a palm tree near the courtyard pool. She’s standing on her tiptoes, kissing an extremely muscular, dark-haired guy.
That must be sweet Damien.
Max can wait. I’m dying to talk with Kate, so I power in her direction, slipping past several groups of people.
As I get closer, I realize she’s lost weight. She’s always been tiny, but now she seems downright fragile. Or perhaps it’s because the man she’s kissing is so damned beefy and tall. It’s like Beauty and the Beast, the beach version.
She’s also flushed and a little sweaty.
Weird. The guy Kate’s kissing—Jesus, it’s a long kiss—is like a linebacker. Max is more like a muscular lion. He’s also got dark hair, dark eyebrows, and a shadow of stubble on his chin, whereas Max has lighter complexion and hair.
Whatever. I shake my head and pick up speed, my flat sandals slapping against the sidewalk and my long dress swishing around my legs.
“Kate,” I call out, breaking into a jog. I’m beyond excited. “Katieeee.”
She unlocks her mouth from his and turns her head in my direction. “Oh my God, Lauren!”
Thank God she seems as thrilled as I am. We literally run into each other’s arms, like in the movies.
“It’s so good to see you,” I whisper into her curly chestnut-colored hair. She smells like jasmine with a spicy undercurrent. Probably Damien’s aftershave.
“Thank God you’re here.” She breaks away and shoots me a hesitant, almost guilty, look.
“This is Damien.” She takes his arm and pulls him toward us. He offers his giant hand, and we shake. “Damien, this is my best friend Lauren.”
He’s got the kind of dark gaze that sizes you up in about three seconds. Yeah, he’s good-looking, in an extremely intense way.
“Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you.” His voice is quiet, almost dignified.
Wish I could say the same about you, I almost say. Out of respect for Kate, I don’t.
“It’s good to finally meet you too. I’ve already gotten acquainted with your brother, Max.”
I drop his hand, then glance at Kate. Who looks up adoringly into Damien’s face. Who looks down lustfully at Kate. It leaves me feeling uneasy, like they’re going to start devouring each other’s mouths again.
“Hey, Kate, I’d like to have a word—”
“Yes!” she chirps. “Damien, Lauren and I are going to have some girl time. We’re going into the bar inside, ‘kay? I’ll be out soon. Half hour or so.”
“Sounds good, girlie. Take your time.” He leans down and kisses her again, a smooch so soft and sensual my lower abdomen aches and pulls. Kate lets out a soft coo and touches his stubble-roughened cheek with her palm.
He growls softly.
Girlie?
Panic fills my chest. Could she really have fallen in love this quickly? It sure looks like it. And he seems like he wants to fuck her right here. Or that he just did. They reluctantly part, whispering furtive goodbyes to each other. They nuzzle a little.
Heaving in a breath, I thread my arm through Kate’s, and she leads me past the pool and inside the resort.
“We can sit here.” She points to a surf-themed bar. It’s empty, save for one waitress and a bartender, both of whom she greets by name.
“Two sparkling waters,” she calls out as we slide into a booth.
Kate flashes me a worried glance. “You did want sparkling, right? Or do you want a drink with alcohol or a beer—”
“Kate.” I interrupt and stare at her, unblinking. “Kate.”
She presses her lips together. “Yeah?”
“Sparkling’s fine. What the hell? What is this? What’s going on here?”
She takes three deep breaths, and of course, that’s when the waitress has to come over to give us our water. Which means there’s a round of introductions, and explanations of how Kate’s mom used to babysit the waitress and how Kate once walked the waitress’ dog…apparently the community fabric of Paradise Beach is tightly knit. Far tighter than my hardscrabble t
own in rural Ohio.
Because I love Kate, I can’t be rude to the waitress. So I clench my molars, smile, and nod.
When the waitress finally wanders off, Kate holds up her glass.
“To weddings.”
I touch my glass to hers. “To mysterious weddings and mysterious brides.” I sip through my straw. “Now tell me everything.”
Why is she looking around nervously, like someone might overhear our conversation?
“Kate? What’s going on? Why are you acting like you’re hiding something? Or that someone might hear us?”
She takes a second gulp of her bubbly water. “You’re sworn to secrecy.”
“Of course I am. I’m your best friend. Aren’t I?” Maybe I’m not, and that’s why she’s so reluctant to share her life with me.
Kate leans in, her pretty eyes watery. Is she going to cry?
“This is all fake,” she whispers. “All of it.”
Six
Lauren
“What?”
“Shhh. Don’t yell, Lauren. Come closer so you can hear me.”
“No, I can hear just fine. Why is it fake? What’s fake? What the hell are you talking about?”
Kate licks her lips. “Okay, it’s not totally fake.”
I gape at her, more confused than before. Kate obviously has a whole other side to her I never encountered during our four years in college and six years living together in downtown Chicago.
“Some of it’s real.” She sighs. “Okay. Here’s what happened. I came home to help Mom in late October. You know that part. One night in early November I was working the bar, and Damien walked in.”
“Okay. So you were at your tiki bar, and Damien walked in.”
“Right. He looked good. Real good. As you can see.” The tops of her cheeks redden. Jesus, what is it here on this island? Does everyone blush? Kate never blushed in the city.
“We ended up making out that night. In his truck.”
I grimace. “This story isn’t giving me a lot of confidence in your relationship so far.”
“I know. Wait. There’s more.”