by Sheri Lynn
He returned inside and she walked out on the pier. The veil of illumination over the ocean as the sun descended awed her. Reaching the end of the planks, she noticed his boat. Bigger than the one at the resort. The artistry and appeal of the West End Wonders logo impressed her. Colorful. Large. Bold. Moving to get a better view of the sun as it melted into the sea, she heard Trevor calling her. Spinning to return, her eyes spotted the name on the back of the boat.
Her heart stopped beating. It must have.
Not as visible as the motif on the side of the watercraft, but evident none the same, she read ‘Island Time’ and underneath in smaller lettering, ‘My Slo-phia.’
Why? He had been there four years. So, six years after their split, he named a boat after her. No. No. It made no sense. Absolutely, no sense. He initiated their breakup. Him. Not her.
She didn’t know what to think or feel about it. Just forget about it. That’s what she should do. They were having such a good time. If she brought it up, they would begin discussing the past. He said earlier they wouldn’t discuss their past. He said they weren’t on a date. Everything felt wrong. Everything felt right. Her heart and mind went back and forth, back and forth.
Blame it on her hangover. It’s not as if he gave her a choice about going out with him. He asked if she felt better and informed her that he would pick her up at five. She would’ve declined if he asked. She knew the moment she recognized him to stay clear of him. She had no defenses when it came to him. His gorgeous hair. Cozy eyes. Million-dollar smile.
Meeting him back on the road, she announced, “I think it’s for the best if you take me back to the resort.”
His smile vanished and his eyes dimmed. “What did I do now? You were all up for the coffee, cheesecake, and dancing.”
Forthright. She needed to be upfront and honest with him. “I noticed the name of your boat out there. It’s made me uneasy. I don’t understand and --,” she hesitated not knowing how much more to say. Lowering her head, she stared at his muscular, tanned calves. She wondered if he even owned a pair of pants anymore. Silly thought. Of course, he did. He returned to the States during the winter, he said earlier.
He sighed, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. You thought I named the boat after you. Hate to disappoint you over the fact you aren’t the only ‘Slo-phia’ in my life. Bill’s wife loved the name Sophia, and they chose it as the name for their first daughter.”
Could a sinkhole form and suck her into the center of Earth? How humiliating. She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head and look at him.
“Don’t worry about it. I would have thought the same thing if I were you. But, nah. Their Sophia was a late crawler…a late walker, and she takes her time in all she does.” Placing a finger under her chin, he directed her head up and her eyes went to his. “Hey, admit, it would be a lot weird if I had named it after you considering--,” he mused but stopped short.
“Congrats to Bill and his wife. You said first daughter. They have more than one?” Best to direct the conversation elsewhere.
He told her he had three nieces. He rambled on about how Bill met his wife, Lucy, and all about the girls and how much he enjoyed them. She didn’t really listen. All she could think about was how stupid of her to even imagine he named a boat after her. And how deflated she felt learning he didn’t.
The two hours they spent at They Buccaneer calmed her uneasiness and occupied her mind. The middle-aged couple, Joe and Linda, who owned and operated it were from Minnesota originally. They had a great staff. The light-hearted atmosphere made her feel welcome and comfortable. They were all so easy to talk to and joke with. Joe had an old jukebox and played some great music. Fleetwood Mac. Tom Petty. Johnny Cash. Waylon and Willie. Tunes she grew up listening to.
And the mango cheesecake—to die for.
The restaurant had closed, but they all sat and hung out. Trevor behaved as he always had. Everyone loved him. She always had to force herself to be an extrovert. For him it came naturally.
He grabbed a broom and finished sweeping the area of the dining room they kept to. “We’re gonna head to the Twisted. Any of you want to join us?”
Joe and Linda chuckled their decline. It had been a long, busy day for them. Two of the cooks from the kitchen said they would stop in and have a beer. She and Trevor left and walked toward the Twisted Toucan. A slight breeze blew and the moon reflected on the water.
She couldn’t see the bar, but she heard it. Latino music incited the urge to shake her hips and dance until she had soreness in muscles she rarely used.
“I see you smiling. I know how much you love to dance.” Trevor put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “This will be fun. It already has.”
It had. He used to take her to her favorite club every weekend. Any guy who could dance without reservation caught her attention. But a guy with a body like Trevor and he knew how to move it—just whoa.
The Twisted Toucan was an open area with a bar in the center and all under a thatched roof. Lights and noise bombarded her as he moved his hand to her lower back and took her to the bar. The crowd consisted of a wild mix of people. Locals. The dive chicks in their jean shorts and bikini tops. Tourists ranging in age from legal drinking age to at least sixties.
Shouts for Trevor came from all directions. Several people came up to him and they leaned into each other attempting to carry on conversations. The cute, dark-skinned girl behind the bar placed their bottles in front of them. Sophia picked hers up and took a drink scanning the place and people.
“Sophia, this is my realtor. He has a table over in the corner with some new clients. I’m going to go introduce myself for a minute. Will you be okay?” advised Trevor. He had bent into her talking into her ear. His warm breath sent tingles down her neck and shoulders. His hand pressed firmer into her back and she expected it to grip her ass cheek or smack it. Like he used to do.
No. No. No. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t rekindling some great love that got away. “I’m good. Go on,” she urged. Nothing had changed. They made no sense together.
He gave her another of his knee buckling smiles. Damn him. She watched as he and a guy walked around the bar to one of a few high-top tables. Two girls in bikini tops ran up to him and they all spoke for a minute.
Someone behind her kept speaking in Spanish loudly. She didn’t realize he spoke to her until he tapped her on the shoulder. She lifted her hand and shrugged. “No habla Espanol,” she acknowledged. Crooking his arms at his sides, he shuffled his feet around presenting her with some pretty fancy boogie skills.
She grinned and nodded following him to the dance area. And oh boy, could he dance. He spun her. He dipped her. He took her hands and directed her in a few of the sequences a lot of them engaged in with different songs.
Spotting Trevor back at the bar, he smiled and dipped his head at her. Damn he caused her body to heat and her heart to pound. Too damn gorgeous.
She continued to dance with Gerald, he called himself. At least she thought he did. She couldn’t hear much between the music and partiers. Each time she looked toward Trevor his eyes were on her. The flow of sexy girls going up to him seeking his attention never ceased.
After two more songs he joined her on the dance floor. He handed her a beer and greeted Geraldo. Geraldo. Gerald. She came close. Circling and jiggling with a blonde bombshell, Geraldo left her with Trevor.
Snaking his hand around her waist, Trevor jerked her into him. The coolness of his beer bottle connected with her ear lobe as he tucked some stray strands behind her ear. He moved his face beside hers, his beard rubbing her cheek. “Are you having fun? You look amazing.”
She didn’t look amazing. He did. And all the other hotties around. Bending his legs, he swayed with her to the rhythm. He kept the side of his face touching hers. He smelled as he always had. He wore the same cologne. The cologne she bought for him on his birthday each year they were together.
Sliding her arm over his shoulder and i
nto his hair, she held onto him relishing the softness and fullness of his unconventional hair. Unconventional in her circles anyway. She went out with men who wore suits and most likely spent more having their hair styled than she did.
She lost herself in the moment. His touch, his scent, all of him transcended any other since him. She liked it. She hated it. If they were meant to be together, they would have been. And they weren’t. For ten years she had been without him. And not one day went by that she hadn’t missed him. Thought of him. Wondered. Regretted. Ached.
A female shouted for him from off in the distance. Sophia searched and found the unwelcome voice. It crashed Sophia back into reality. She came there for a wedding. Not expecting him. Or anything other than being a dutiful friend. In the short amount of time she witnessed him in his chosen environment, he had an ample supply of tits and ass to satisfy him. He was the so-called ‘West End Wonder.’
Bolting upright, Sophia excused herself and gave him an out. “I’m going to find the bathroom and have a glass of water.” And of course, the babe calling for him resembled a damn Sports Illustrated bikini model. Her long, beach swept blonde hair fell below her shoulders. She had some super short shorts on and a halter-top displaying perky little tits and a tanned, toned midriff. Sophia couldn’t resist adding, “I do believe Mister West End Wonder is being summoned.”
He looked over his shoulder and waved to Miss Tiny Tits. Must be nice to have the ability to pull off and wear such a little blotch of cloth. Sophia always hated her full C bordering on D cup tits. At least they weren’t sagging. Yet.
“I’ll walk you to the bathrooms. Keep in mind these aren’t what you are used to. The floors are sandy and…you’ll see,” offered Trevor.
Bypassing Tiny Tits, he led her and left her at a narrow, barely visible and overgrown with vegetation pathway on the far right of the establishment. There were a few people in front of her in line. She turned and saw Miss Tiny Tits jump up throwing her arms around Trevor’s neck. He wrapped his arms around her slender, ideal waist and swung her.
Pee and leave. He said they weren’t on a date. She never asked if he had a girlfriend. Because it didn’t matter. They weren’t on a date. He hadn’t been her boyfriend in ten years. She couldn’t get jealous. She had no reason to. They weren’t together.
Okay. He tried to warn her about the condition of the bathroom, but he failed to inform her the toilets may not flush. She did her business and tossed the paper in the trashcan as the taped-up signs on the wall clearly stated. Others before her had not followed the posted directions.
She didn’t see him when she first returned. But he waved his arm in the air over at the bar. He managed to acquire two barstools. “What’ll it be this time? Another beer? Water,” he asked.
“It’s probably time to call it a night. Don’t you think? What time is it? You have an early booking.” Jealousy ran through her veins. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. An emotion she hated and believed she conquered surged her. Damn it. Damn it. It made her relapse into a woman she detested. Being around him mutated her into the pitiful girl she used to be. The one who had such little self-esteem she ran off the man she loved because she feared she couldn’t keep him.
No. No. She didn’t run him off. He left.
“I hate to admit it, but yeah. It’s midnight and it totally escaped my crosschecks earlier when I told the students to come to Sunny Daze that the truck has to be here to get them there.” His forehead crinkled the way it used to during the times she acted irrational. She recognized him second-guessing his every word and action. And she caused it. And it made her sick.
During the drive back to the resort, he popped in a cassette. Yep, a cassette. His old truck had a cassette player. They rode with the cooler wind rushing through the cab and listened to The Cars. He showed her such a good time. She truly had more fun than she recalled having in a long time. She got to be herself. The evening didn’t require she dodge questions about her family and upbringing. She didn’t have to focus, focus, focus, and pretend.
Tears stung her eyes. Pretend. Most of the time she considered herself a fraud. Some broken girl from a hick town playing the role of a wealthy, sought-after, successful woman. And she knew she shouldn’t. She studied hard. Worked hard. Pushed herself way beyond her comfort zones.
The volume went lower. “Are you okay, Sophia? You’re really quiet. Did I do something?” Trevor queried.
She hated that he worried he did something. He kind of did but she realized she couldn’t blame him for her issues. She did enough of that during college. “Just tired, I think. Been a busy couple of days.”
“I hope you come out with us in the morning. You enjoyed snorkeling when we went to St. Thomas. Or at least you said you did.” He shut the engine off and opened his door.
Gathering her bags from the floorboard, she turned and saw he opened her door and stood waiting for her. “You didn’t have to stop and get out. I can manage.”
“You never were very receptive to being treated like a lady. Hand me your bags and come on.” He cocked his head and grinned holding his hands out.
She shuffled the bags into his hands and went to the house while he shut the truck door. Remembering she didn’t have a purse she mentioned, “We didn’t lock up when we left.”
“Did you not notice the security at the entrance when we left and came back? Sunny Daze is isolated and safe. I’ll make sure you get inside safely and lock you in on my way out.”
She supposed she didn’t notice. Good to know though. “You can just put the bags on the island. Thank you. Thanks for everything. I had a fun time tonight.” She hated it to be over. She missed him more than she realized. Much more than she wanted to admit—especially to herself.
Planting his hands on the granite, he leaned into them and smiled. “Should I do a sweep of the entire house, or are you good?”
She averted his gaze. How easy it would be to slip back into the comfortable connection they shared so many years ago. Contented yet agonizing would be more accurate. “I think I’m good for the night. Be careful driving back,” she maintained. Go. Go. Go. She sensed her resolve weakening. It couldn’t.
Coming around the island, one of his hands went in her hair pulling her head back, his face inches from hers. The other brushed her waist, cupped her ass, and hauled her into his broad chest. His breath teased her lips. “One last plea for you to join me in the morning,” he justified before his lips came to hers. He kissed her softly. Intently. Intimately. No tongue. No urgency.
Her knees were weak and wobbly when he released her. The kiss left her dazed and eager for more. Finally, she willed her eyes open and he stood there grinning at her. “What?” she snapped. “You’re still here. I thought you left.”
He laughed. “The request was for you to come out snorkeling in the morning. Not for you to give yourself to me.”
“Asshole. As if I would.”
He laughed all the way to the door. He didn’t look back but he told her to sleep well before he opened the door, twisted the lock and closed it after him.
Sleep well? Good Lord. Her heart raced. Her mind sped. Her body ached—for him. She might never sleep again. At least not that night.
Chapter 6
Friday
Trevor
He couldn’t help himself. After he and Sophia sat and had beers together, dinner, coffee and dessert, and watching her shake her fantastic tits and ass at the Twisted, he seriously worried he might die if he didn’t have his lips somewhere on her. He wanted a taste of her. Lust. He still lusted for her. That’s all. What hot-blooded male wouldn’t?
He knew he felt much more than lust for her. Why else would he take her out? On a date. Yes. A date. He didn’t make a habit of spending hours with a woman trying to impress her if it didn’t result in sex. He wanted sex with her. The conundrum being he didn’t want just sex with Sophia. He believed he could have taken her to her bedroom and done just that without any objection from her. Would
that have been a smart move considering—his intentions.
What were his intentions? What the fuck. Feelings and intentions? He was fully aware of his enduring feelings for her—but intentions? Did his life just morph into some soppy, chick flick.
He had three days remaining to win her over. Win her over to what? Him? Roatán? He should’ve listened to Marti and left well enough alone. “Good job, dumbass,” he mumbled to himself.
Her lips felt and tasted better than he remembered. And his memory hadn’t been lacking when it came to her. He tried over the years to replace her and what they had. He couldn’t. No one measured up. Nothing came close to the affection he found with Sophia and that arose within him for her.
The loud group of divers he brought from West End jumped out of the bed of the pickup. Marti began scolding them for heading off without grabbing and carrying the gear. Trevor searched for Sophia. He never allowed himself to imagine her not showing. Not locating her, his confidence faltered, and his enthusiasm deteriorated.
He expected too much. She could possibly have a someone. Another man. That topic of conversation hadn’t surfaced. The magnetism he experienced while with her couldn’t be one-sided. Do you never forget your first love? Could he be such an egomaniac, the one she accused him of, the very one in which doubting she returned his feelings and shared his regret, didn’t enter his scope.
Of course, no one he brought over stayed behind and offered to carry a gas can. Whether she showed or not, he had to get the boat ready. Hauling both cans out the truck bed he strode in the opposite direction of where Sophia might arrive. The entire hike he checked over his shoulder constantly hoping to see her.
Finishing emptying the second can into the boat, he caught a glimpse of red hair talking with the others up at the tiki bar. He placed the cans on the dock and jumped out the boat to go and greet her. The urge to run right up to her and swoop her into his arms rushed him, but he resisted. Maybe he shouldn’t have. As easily as the impulse came, it fled. Because she did.