The Do Over

by A. L. Zaun

  I composed myself. "Are we done? I've answered your question. My Kindle is safe and so is my virtue apparently. I'm now thoroughly embarrassed."

  "Sweetie, you don't need to be embarrassed. We're all friends here. Actually, you know we're more like sisters. We all go through dry spells. It happens," Candace said.

  "Speak for yourself, Candace," Macy interrupted. With pursed lips, she shook her head as she waved her hands. "Poor Jeremy. Do you hold out on him?"

  Of course, Macy had been poked more than a pincushion, so she had no clue what a dry spell was. On the other hand, Candace and Jeremy had been together since our second semester of freshman year. He was the perfect guy for Candace. Although at times, I thought he was a bit of a bore and that maybe Candace was secretly dying to let loose her inner freak.

  Candace gave Macy a stern look before she turned back to me. "Seriously though, I think Macy's right. You have been revirginized."

  "Guys, this is ridiculous. I'm not a virgin," I shouted and noticed heads dart up around us and looked straight at me. "It's not that there's anything wrong with being a virgin. In fact, girls should save themselves for someone special," I said to the patrons sitting around me. Shaking my head, I plastered a fake grin on my face. A slow and painful death couldn't have been worse than this moment.

  "First things first, we need to take care of your current condition," Macy said.

  I had always thought that if push came to shove, Macy would be on Team Dani, but no, I was wrong. I was curious as to what I was supposed to do to cure my current "condition," but then I decided this wasn't the time or the place to discuss this. Frankly, I just preferred not to discuss this at all. It's time to take control and change the subject.

  "I love you guys. You're the best. I know what you're saying, and I'll take it into consideration. Let's hurry up and eat," I said, signaling the waiter. "I don't have much time since my boss is making me take another CPR class." I rolled my eyes before we ordered our food.

  As a Nurse Practitioner, I could practically teach the class, but my boss was compulsive and wanted everyone to take the class with her instructor. For reasons beyond me, her instructor had the ability to teach the ABCDs of CPR better than anyone else. Apparently, my Red Cross certification wasn't enough.

  Macy always tried to find the positive in the situation. "Hey, Dani, you never know," she said, winking, "maybe you'll get a hottie instructor."

  "Um, don't count on it. I saw his picture on the flyer. He's an old fart. Trust me, you'd consider my book boyfriends a better option," I said before shoving French toast in my mouth.

  I had answered their humiliating question, so they decided to give me a break on my Kindle with the stipulation that we have a girls' night out. Macy's new friend and secret crush, Chris Giordano, was a promoter for a new upscale club on South Beach. He'd invited her to the club and wanted her to bring her friends. I relented, knowing that I'd have Sunday to catch up on my reading.

  I knew my friends had the best of intentions, and deep down, I somehow knew I deserved it all. At twenty-eight, my life wasn't the life I had pictured, but neither was my mom's when she'd found herself raising three girls alone after her marriage to my dad failed. My dad was great, and everything had seemed perfect, but apparently, perfect hadn't been enough. Maybe that was why I had horrible luck with men.

  I'd spent almost two years getting balance back into my life. I was scared of getting hurt. I feared that my old patterns would return if I opened myself up. Although I hid behind my demanding job and steamy novels, as far as I was concerned, I was perfectly fine, and nothing had to change.

  Looking through my windshield, the scenic drive west on the MacArthur Causeway from South Beach to the mainland looked like a photoshopped image. I flipped back my sunglasses to get a better view. The sky was a crisp blue, and the landscape was bright green speckled with bright orange and pink exotic flowers. I was amazed at all the colors. As a native South Floridian, I took the warm tropical climate and the beauty that surrounded me for granted.

  As much as I wanted to appreciate paradise, I was in a hurry to get to my CPR class. I weaved through traffic, trying to avoid lanes that would slow me down. I needed to arrive early enough to find a seat in the back. The book I was currently reading was getting really good, and I had to finish the chapter that my dear friends interrupted. I shook my head, thinking about how they staged an intervention.

  I had to admit that I got lost in my stories. I felt each character's pain, angst, and longings. This book in particular was full of everything that makes a novel awesome. It included a typical girl—the one that gives me all the hope that I, too, can have it all—with a couple of hot badass guys who both wanted her. Who will she pick? I was at a really hot and steamy part of the novel where the chemistry between the characters was off the charts.

  I had experienced my own relationship drama. Maybe my drama was more anticlimactic since my relationships had never seemed to last. I'd started to notice a pattern. At first, I'd thought I was attracted to the bad boy, the type that would make my dad curse in Spanish and bring my mom to tears. They had questioned their parenting and blamed the divorce. They'd wondered what they'd done wrong and why I couldn't find a nice boy like my sisters. After all, I was such a good girl. My mom had said I was codependent and needed therapy. She'd read a lot of self-help books. Then, I'd realized that they all had the same thing in common. He could be a bad boy on a motorcycle with a couple of tattoos, who would give my dad heart palpitations, or he could be a nice guy in a BMW, wearing khakis and a polo, who would make my mom swoon. They were all scared to death of commitment.

  No matter the type of guy, I would be swept off my feet. The dashing, charming boyfriend would promise me the world, saying everything I'd ever wanted to hear, but as soon as I was head over heels in love with him, he would bail. I was sick and tired of hearing the same excuse.

  "Dani, you're a wonderful woman. It's not you. It's me. You're the type of girl a guy marries and has kids with, but the truth is that I'm not ready to get married yet."

  With that, everything would fall apart for me.

  That never happened in books. The heroine always had two guys fighting for her. I found the triangle-relationship plot to be exciting and thrilling. Real life never had that kind of drama, at least not for me. I just had the heartbreak without the triangle angst. That had been the case with Rick Marin. Thanks to him, I was on a self-imposed dry spell. Frankly, I was done with all the headaches that came with dating.

  My mind was so wrapped up in the book that I didn't even notice that I'd already pulled into the training center. With just enough time, I ran into the classroom and grabbed a seat. The instructor still hadn't arrived. The flyer had displayed his picture with all his credentials. He was a Captain for the Miami-Dade County Fire Department. He looked like an older, distinguished man, similar to my dad, which was perfectly fine. I wasn't looking for anything else. I just couldn't get Macy's hottie instructor comment out of my head. Macy's one-track mind always led straight to the gutter. I wanted this class to be over with since I was already certified in CPR, and honestly, it was keeping me away from my book.

  I convinced myself that I could finish the chapter before class started, and then I would pay attention to the training, or at least act like it. After all, it was incredibly rude to read while in class. I couldn't help myself though. I just had to keep reading, so I started the next chapter.

  I was worried that my friends were right. Maybe my reading hobby was becoming a bit of an addiction. Maybe I did have a problem. I thought about attending some twelve-step program where I'd introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Dani. I'm a Kindleholic, and I hoard eBooks." At the moment though, I was more concerned about what the protagonist in the book was going to do. After I knew, I could then pay attention to the class in peace.

  I noticed when the instructor entered the room, passing by me as I sat in the corner by the door. The room itself wasn't too big, but the class was almost filled
to capacity. This worked to my benefit, so I could blend in the background and zone out for a little while.

  From the corner of my eye, I could tell the instructor was tall and lean. He didn't look too bad for an old dude. I was still glued to my Kindle, struggling to deal with the angst in the book, as I kept my composure in class. I have to finish this chapter. I could not believe what the heroine was about to do. I had a strong desire to scream and throw my Kindle against the wall. Feeling an urgent need to pace, I instead bounced my leg nervously as I chewed on my thumb. I knew this wasn't good. I was having a book meltdown, sitting in a training class, as the instructor started talking.

  The instructor introduced himself. Wait. Did I hear him say Lucas? Am I in the right class? The instructor was supposed to be Captain Rafael Santos. Feeling a surge of panic rise inside of me, my face flushed as I painfully tore myself away from my novel.

  Slowly, I looked up through my lashes to see that he was walking in my direction. He stopped right in front of me. He was wearing black cargo pants that fit rather nicely on what could only be a tall body. My eyes kept going up until I hit his gray standard county-issued polo, which just so happened to show that he worked out. I shyly smiled as heat rose to my cheeks. I wanted to die of pure embarrassment.

  As a bright blush warmed my face, he looked straight into my eyes. He had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. With eyes just like Miami's sky and his dirty blond hair cropped short, he was breathtaking. My peripheral vision was correct. He was tall, lean, and yes, muscular. He was so not the old dude. I was a paralyzed mute. It took all my willpower to keep my mouth from hanging open.

  Bending over, he leaned in close to my ear. As his unshaven face brushed against my neck, he whispered, "I'm a jealous fool, and I don't share. Do you mind putting it away?" His tone told me he wasn't asking but telling me what to do. He paused briefly as he leaned even closer. "Name?"

  My heart skipped a beat. "Daniela Ruiz," I stammered.

  As he slowly stood back up, he winked. He moved to close the door and then walked back down to the front of the class.

  At that moment, I realized that I'd been holding my breath with my legs pressed tightly together. Someone call a code blue. I wouldn't mind at all if he had to administer CPR on me. Hmm, maybe I was a little premature on my stance involving men. For the first time in a very long time, I felt hopeful and a little turned on. Okay, I was a lot turned on.

  I didn't want to embarrass her. I knew no one, including me, wanted to be here on a Saturday afternoon. Since I'd just come off a tough shift, I was tired and irritable. But when Captain called in a rare favor, asking that I cover for him, I couldn't say no. He'd been like a dad to me for the past ten years.

  On top of being worn out, I was running late, so I got behind on setting up for the class. I hated being late. It was one of my pet peeves. I just wanted to do my job and then relax. It had already been a very long day, and it was still early. I also had plans for later that night, and I couldn't get out of them. All of this put me in a bad mood, and I hated that even more than being late. Taking a deep breath, I focused on my priorities and decided I was going to do a damn good job.

  As I scanned the class, I saw all eyes were on me except for one single set. What on earth is she doing? I walked around the table, tilting my head to the side to get a better view. She was looking at something on her lap. As curiosity got the best of me, I headed in her direction to see that she was staring at a tablet. I wondered if she was on Facebook, YouTube, or maybe even Netflix.

  I weighed my options. Will I let her sit through the entire class and then not give her the certificate? Or should I just put a stop to it now? I wasn't into playing games, so taking control was the only choice. As I got closer, she had an expression of despair on her face as she clutched her shirt. Maybe she was reading something important. Now, I felt bad for her. Seeing her vulnerability, I toned down my approach.

  When I stopped in front of her, she looked up at me through her long lashes. Her eyes were a dark amber color with darker flecks of brown. Her skin was flawless, and her brown hair was pulled up on top of her head.

  As I leaned down to whisper in her ear, she gasped, making my lip curl into a half smile. I wasn't sure what came over me, but I needed to regain my composure and focus. I was here to teach a class, not to pick up girls. So, I got up and made it look like I was on my way to close the door.

  On my way back to the front of the class, I glanced over at her and smiled. I had to remind myself again that I was a professional. For the remainder of the class, I tried to distract myself by focusing on and engaging the other students. I had an important job to do. It wasn't easy though. My eyes were drawn to her. I noticed she was definitely paying attention now.

  As a Lieutenant in the Miami-Dade Fire Department Technical Team, I prided myself on always being professional in every setting. I had always wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps and become a firefighter, and I became even more passionate about my choice after 9/11. Before I entered the academy, I earned an Emergency Management degree from the University of Miami. I loved what I did, and I took pride in the way I conducted myself. I was dedicated and committed to my career.

  Now, I was leading a training class where I couldn't get one participant out of my head. As I kept glancing at her, I found myself wanting to smell her sweet perfume again. I was looking forward to this part of class when the students had to come up for hands-on training.

  "Now, we're going to put into practice what we talked about. Who wants to go first?" I asked the class, looking around to see who would be my first.

  A few overly eager students raised their hands, and I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. One at a time, they came up and we went through the motions. Although I rushed through the demonstrations, I made sure I wasn't compromising the objective. Looking over at her again, I noticed she wasn't showing any interest in this part of the class. It was my job to make sure that every student was properly trained in advanced life support. I owed it to her to engage her in this class activity.

  "Ms. Ruiz," I called, waving for her to come up to the front.

  She straightened up, like she was startled. Shit, I hope I didn't freak her out.

  After she sauntered to the front of the class, she got into position. Clearly, she knew what she was doing, but that didn't stop me from assisting her. I didn't know what had possessed me. I was drawn to her. I stood behind her as she placed her hands on the dummy. She was the perfect height. I could've easily rested my chin on her head. I reached over, almost leaning into her. I laid my hands over hers as we pushed down on the dummy.

  Making sure she applied the correct pressure, I said in a hushed voice, "Make sure it's deep, hard, and steady. Yeah, that's right. You're doing it perfectly."

  I wanted to know if the rest of her was as soft as her hands were, but I fought the urge, keeping my hands from traveling up her arm. Her soft perfume filled the air around me. All I wanted to do was bury my head in her neck.

  Leaning in, I gave her the commands. Together, we counted, "and one, and two, and three, and…" My voice was huskier than I wanted it to be.

  She was the consummate professional. She didn't flinch through the whole exercise. I wanted to say the same about myself. At least I tried while we went through the entire process practically attached to one another. Captain would have my ass for this. I felt like such a prick. I was practically dry humping her. If she leaned back as much as half an inch, she would know just how turned on I was.

  I needed to think about baseball. Yes, lots of baseball. How about that UM game? I wondered if she was turned on. I just wanted to press my body up against her, gently stroke her skin, and kiss her neck. I needed to stop thinking about that. Sports, Sports Center, ESPN, football, baseball, grandmothers. That was what I needed to think about. I had to clear my head of all other thoughts. We were almost done with the demonstration. Get a grip. I thought about the look of disappointment on Captain's face. Yep, that definitely
did it.

  At the end of class, she was nearly one of the last participants to come up for her CPR card.

  Seeing an opportunity to have her stay a little longer, I said, "Um, Daniela, would you mind helping me put away the equipment?" I sounded like a dork, but she had me flustered.

  Needless to say, I was conflicted. This was my job and reputation. I had to apologize before she filed a formal complaint. It wasn't just that though. I didn't want her to leave. I wanted to get to know her a little better. I quickly glanced at her left hand and noticed she didn't have a ring on her finger. Now, I needed to know if she was available, hopefully without freaking her out and risking my job.

  "Sure, and it's Dani," she said, smiling as she looked at my shirt. "And you're Lieutenant Lucas."

  "Liam, but we can keep it formal, and you can refer to me as Lieutenant." I winked.

  "Absolutely, Lieutenant." She laughed.

  As we started putting away the supplies, I asked, "So, Dani, have you done this before?"

  "Done what? Help clean up or CPR?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet, as she tilted her head to the side.

  Hot damn, she's flirting with me.

  "What?" I responded, my voice low and husky. "Do you mean to tell me that I'm not your first? Damn, I can't believe you've helped others clean up. I'm jealous."

  "Oh, don't be jealous." She went to put something in the closet. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "You're the first CPR instructor that I've helped, and I've had a lot of them. It goes with the territory."

  I reclined against the table with my arms crossed in front of me. "Oh, so there've been other instructors. I'm not sure I can handle that."

  "Yep, but none that I've helped." Fluttering her eyelashes, she shrugged her shoulders.

  "I feel a little better, but I'm still jealous."