When It Holds You

by Nicki Elson

  “Why—do I look that bad?” Lyssa asked.

  Hayden wrapped an arm around her bare stomach and pulled her against his chest. “You’re the tastiest thing out here, baby.” He nuzzled his chin into the crook of her neck, making her squeal.

  Lyssa stilled his tickling by clutching her fingers into his hair and twisted to lay a kiss on his temple. Returning her attention to Cliff, she said, “Your date’s around. She should be here in three, two, one—”

  “How’s it hangin’, stud?” Trish purred from behind him.

  Cliff turned to see her holding two pineapples with umbrella straws jutting out the top. The wide brim of a floppy straw hat shaded her smiling face. One slim hip was enticingly exposed under the knot of a patterned sarong that coordinated with the electric sherbet color of her bikini top. The tightening at his groin told him nothing would be left hanging if he ogled Trish any longer. He took the offered pineapple and sucked hard on the straw, letting the icy drink cool him down.

  “Mahalo,” Trish said, raising her pineapple to clunk against his in a toast.

  “That’s Hawaiian,” Cliff said. “And it means thank you. So…you’re welcome, I guess?”

  “Nope.” Trish swung her head back and forth. “There’ll be no fact-checking or correcting. You’re not a legal paper monkey this weekend. You’re my date. We shall say whatever we want to say, and it shall mean whatever we want it to mean.” Her glossy lips spread wide in a lazy grin.

  He quirked an eyebrow as he took a slower sip of the fruity drink, noting the heavy dose of rum. “How many of these have you had?”

  Trish let out a low giggle, stepping closer to him and pulling off her hat. “Enough to do this.” She wrapped her arm over his shoulder, pressing her hat against his back and her lips against his mouth. Before Cliff could react to the unexpected kiss, she pulled back, rubbing her nose against his. “Welcome to Saint Lucia.”

  “Mahalo,” Cliff murmured, his hand going instinctively to the small of her back.

  Trish laughed and stepped away, causing his hand to slide off. She plopped her hat back onto her head and grasped his hand, looking past him toward Lyssa and Hayden. “Someone at the bar said there’s a big sea—whatever that means—so we’re talking about boogie boarding. Want to?” Her gaze flitted back and forth among her three friends.

  “I want to take a shower and a nap before dinner, so go ahead without me,” Lyssa said, shooting her boyfriend a not-so-subtle eyebrow waggle.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Hayden said.

  “Come on!” Trish whined. “You two can take all the naps you want together in Boston. We’re in Saint Lucia. We’ve got to boogie, man.” She snorted and laughed. “I said boogie man.”

  “We’ll catch up with you at dinner,” Lyssa said. “And we’re still on for zip-lining tomorrow morning, right?”

  “We sure are.” Trish smiled, looking at Cliff. “The wedding’s not until six, so I booked the four of us for a zip line excursion tomorrow at ten.”

  “Don’t you mean the six of us?” Lyssa asked.

  “Amy and Jo made spa appointments instead, so they’re out.”

  Lyssa and Hayden headed off toward their room, and Trish led Cliff to the bar, where a group of her friends waited. “Everyone, this is my friend Cliff. He’s going to play with us.”

  Nods and hellos circled the group. Cliff spotted Trish’s friend JoAnne pouring the rest of her drink down her throat. He hadn’t talked to her since she and Trish had drunk-called him about a year earlier. She’d been incoherent then but obviously pissed—he hadn’t remembered her from college when Trish had reintroduced them a few weeks earlier. She was plumper than she’d been at Iowa, her face rounder, her boobs bigger, but still, he should’ve recognized her, and not just because they’d had sex. More than once.

  She finished her drink, and when she caught him watching her, she gave a tight smile and a nod. Her hair was slightly longer than the bob she’d had a year ago, and several strips were highlighted to nearly platinum blond while the lower layers were now black. If Cliff hadn’t expected her to be here, he probably wouldn’t have recognized her—again. He nodded back, making his smile as warm as he could. If there was an opportunity at any point this weekend, he’d give her a proper apology.

  “Ford?”

  Cliff snapped his head to the side at hearing his old college nickname. He saw a stocky man he recognized and shouted, “Junglelicious!” His real name was Zach.

  Zach’s shockingly blue eyes still sparkled exactly the way they used to, especially when he’d been up to mischief. His hairline had retreated since college to reveal an additional inch or so of forehead. The loss of hair there was made up for with the new growth of a full beard. “I didn’t know you were friends with Sammie.”

  “I’m not. I’m here as Trish’s date.” It felt great to say that. This mini-reunion transported him back to his college days when he’d pined so hard for her.

  Zach glanced at Trish, who’d wandered off to talk to some other people, and nodded with approval. “Nice goin’. So how’ve you been?”

  They only had a few minutes to catch up before the group moved to the beach shack and commandeered every boogie board available. There weren’t enough boards for everyone to have their own, so Trish and Cliff agreed to share one.

  She plopped her beach bag into the sand, and Cliff set his sunglasses inside it before peeling off his shirt. Trish threw her arms up to shield her eyes. “The glare! It burns,” she wailed.

  Cliff jutted his chin out with pride. “Tease all you want. Only a hardworking, dedicated professional, chained to his desk at all hours, could earn such a luminescent pallor.”

  Trish scrunched her nose as her gaze traveled over his torso. “I think the sun’s actually reflecting off of you.”

  “Is this any way to treat the man you begged to come here?”

  “Sorry. It’s the rum talking. But please get sunproofed ASAP.” She reached in her bag and tossed him a bottle of sunscreen. He poured some into his palm and then into hers, and they smoothed it over themselves, helping each other with the hard-to-reach spots.

  As he ran his fingers down the small of her back, he asked, “Are you sure you’re not too intoxicated to be safe in the water?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She turned and gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “But thanks for worrying.”

  Despite her assurance, he stayed close as they waded into the sea. The chill of the water seemed to sober her as it climbed over her hips and up to her chest. As soon as the first meager swell approached, she gracefully slipped onto her board and rode the wave toward shore.

  Cliff was grateful for the cool water to keep everything below his waistline in check while he watched her slender curves move away from him. She finished the short ride and rolled off the board, slipping under the surface. When she reappeared, her sleek hair plastered over her head onto her back, leaving every inch of her lovely face exposed. As she swam her board back toward him, Cliff first noticed that she wasn’t wearing makeup. She didn’t need it. She was flawless.

  “Your turn.” She nodded toward a small wave coming their way.

  He readied himself to ride, but the wave died before it reached them. “This sucks!” someone in the group shouted, lifting onto his board and pushing sideways to knock one of the other guys off of his board. “Bumper boards!” someone else shouted. The sea wasn’t giving them much to work with, so they’d make their own fun. Another rise in the water’s surface rolled in, and Trish hopped on the board and propelled herself toward one of the other girls. The guy next to the girl blocked her, and Trish spun, her long legs flailing in the air.

  Cliff rushed over to grab the liberated board and pull her up. She emerged like a mermaid with her big, grateful eyes locked on him. “You shall be avenged,” he promised. The game was full on with the group of wedding weekenders shoving, blocking, and careening sideways. More than once, Cliff pulled Trish out of harm’s way. The feel of her wet, smooth skin
against his kicked his adrenaline into overdrive. There were times he thought about not letting go.

  She only considers you as a friend, he reminded himself. But then he thought about the spontaneous kiss by the pool and wondered if it had been inspired by more than rum. In his distraction, he made a miscalculated move to toss Zach into the surf. Instead, he caught the corner of JoAnne’s board and sent her tumbling under the surface. She came up spluttering.

  “Sorry!” He pushed the board to Trish and stepped toward Jo.

  “For what?” She swiped her hair back with one hand, inadvertently placing several tufts at disorganized angles. Mascara smudged into dark crescents under her eyes. “That’s the game, isn’t it?” She trudged forward to catch up with her board.

  “Hey, Jo, wait,” Cliff said. When she kept going, he took long strides past her and caught the board. He turned to hand it to her.

  “I’m sorry about more than knocking you off. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you last year. I should have.”

  “Yeah, you should’ve.” She pulled herself onto the board, wobbling a little, and started paddling away from him.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  She glanced back at him. “Look, just because you’re with Trish doesn’t mean you and I have to be friends. I was mad, but I’m over it. You don’t owe me anything.”

  As he watched her splash away, all he could think was—am I with Trish?

  The group tired of the water games and made their way to shore. While Trish squeezed her towel around the ends of her long hair, she stifled a yawn. “I think I need some sleep before dinner. Early drinking always does that to me. Do you mind?”

  “Do I mind you taking a nap?” Cliff asked.

  “Not the kind Lyssa and Hayden are taking.” She pointed a warning finger at him, leading Cliff to conclude that he wasn’t with her after all.

  He shrugged. “I’d rather you sleep now than get cranky later.”

  “Smart man.” She tweaked his cheek and then led him to their shared room.

  Her clothes lay strewn over one of the two queen beds. He went to his luggage setting on white tiles next to a bleached armoire and pulled out a fresh button-down shirt and shorts. While Trish changed in the bathroom, he slipped into his dry clothing. Deciding to acquaint himself with the resort grounds while she slept, he left her with the room to herself.

  Heavy clouds had moved in throughout the afternoon, blotting the sun. The temperature seemed slightly cooler than when he’d first arrived, but humidity still sweltered. After winding through a lush, palm-lined path, he spotted Hayden sitting under a thatched roof. Lyssa’s boyfriend was bellied up to the garden bar.

  Cliff strolled over and pulled up a bamboo stool next to him. “Where’s Lyss?”

  “Taking an actual nap. Guess I wore her out.” A cocky grin stretched one side of Hayden’s mouth while he took a long pull from his bottle. “Where’s Trish?”

  “Doing the same.” Cliff only wished he’d been able to wear her out beforehand. Gesturing to the bartender, he ordered a beer. “So what’s life like in Bean Town?” he asked Hayden.

  The two men made small talk about city life and their jobs. Cliff found Hayden to be a touch arrogant but overall a cool guy, just as Trish had described him.

  “You’ve got a great girl in Lyssa,” Cliff said.

  “I know.” Hayden flashed a grin. “The good ones always make you work for it.” He set his bottle down, giving Cliff a sideways glance. “She and I are both Team Cliff, by the way.”

  Cliff scrunched his eyebrows and leaned back on the slats of his tall chair.

  “With Trish,” Hayden explained.

  “She and I are just friends. Lyssa knows that.”

  Hayden twisted his mouth to one side, giving a doubtful roll of his eyes. “I know that’s what you want us to think, but Lyssa’s on to you. From what I’ve seen today, I totally agree with her—you’ve got it bad for Trish.”

  Cliff let out a rough exhale at being exposed. “She doesn’t reciprocate.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Her body language at the pool looked pretty reciprocal to me.”

  “She was drunk.”

  Hayden shrugged. “Patience is the key, my friend. I don’t know what they teach the girls at University of Iowa, but they’re resistant to seeing what’s right in front of them. They do eventually get it, though.”

  Cliff finished his beer and motioned to the bartender for another.

  “What do you say we make that a chaser and treat ourselves to a shot of tequila?” Hayden suggested.

  “Why not? We’re on vacation.”

  They downed the shots and sucked their limes. Cliff bit into the pulp and peeled the rind away. As he chewed the sour fruit, he flicked his hope switch back on.

  “I wouldn’t make any moves this weekend,” Hayden warned, as if reading the scenarios playing in Cliff’s mind. “Remember—patience. She won’t do anything with you until she’s free and clear of Helms.”

  “You mean if she’s ever clear of him.”

  “He lost serious points by not being here this weekend. Don’t tell Lyssa I said anything, but it’s caused Trish to take a step back. Meanwhile, you get to be the hero. It won’t take her long to do the math. But you’ve got to let her figure it out for herself. You can’t force it.”

  Cliff nodded, soaking in the advice. They put a period on that topic by taking simultaneous sips from their bottles. “Have you gotten a chance to play the course here?” Cliff asked, switching tracks. They talked golf until it was time to check on the girls and get dressed for dinner.

  Trish introduced Cliff to her good friend Amy at the beachside restaurant. The bride and groom also joined their table. Though the conversation was lively, Trish remained sluggish after her nap. When the others talked about going to the dance club that night, she declined, saying she just wanted to take a walk along the pier and then turn in early. Cliff said he’d join her.

  “No. It’s your first night here. You should have fun,” Trish told him.

  “It’s my first night here because I’m your plus-one. I’m not going to leave you alone to wallow over who was supposed to be here instead of me.” He thought the reminder of how Helms had disappointed her was a nice touch.

  They said goodnight to the others and went to the pier, where they strolled in companionable silence, watching starlight shimmer across the jellied ripples of the sea.

  “Sorry for being such a bore tonight.” Trish curled her arm around Cliff’s, holding onto his bicep as they continued walking. “I’ll make it up to you at the reception.”

  “You’re never a bore. But I’ll expect table-dancing tomorrow night.”

  She let out a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.” The faint swirl of dance music from the resort’s club floated around them. Cliff hoped the high-energy rhythm masked the increased thump of his heart.

  At the end of the peer, the music faded to only a murmur. He and Trish paused, looking out over the serene expanse of inky black waves. With her still curled into him, Cliff felt utterly content.

  “I was going to make love to him this weekend,” she said with a sigh.

  Just like that, his serenity vanished. “I figured.”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder but kept her eyes on the water, tightening her grip on his arm. “We haven’t done that yet. Not since we got back together. This was going to be the big weekend.” She twisted her mouth into a small pout and turned her gaze to Cliff.

  He hid the spark of joy that skipped through him. The guy was an even bigger idiot than Cliff had suspected. “Did he know that was your plan?”

  “We hadn’t directly talked about it, but how could he not know? Things were so good between us, and now…”

  “Now what?”

  “Now I don’t know. Maybe he knew my intentions and he’s not ready yet. Or maybe he’s changed his mind about us.”

  “Or maybe he really had w
ork commitments he couldn’t get out of.” He didn’t like playing devil’s advocate on behalf of Helms, but more than that, he hated seeing her hurt.

  “Maybe. I guess I won’t know the real reason until I have a long talk with him back in the States.”

  Cliff liked the sound of “long talk.”

  Trish pinched her lips together in a small smile and gave him a sideways glance. “Either way, I definitely chose the right replacement guy.”

  Back in the hotel room, Cliff let Trish use the bathroom first, then he went in to take a shower. When he came out, she was propped against a stack of pillows, reading a book. He pulled out the Crain’s magazine he’d bought at O’Hare and settled onto the other bed.

  Trish looked over and let out a snort. “Look at us—Gramma and Grampa Walsh.”

  Maybe someday, Cliff thought as he chuckled. He turned his attention to the magazine to avoid saying something stupid. While he was absorbed in an article about favorite novels of top Chicago executives and how the books had influenced their careers, Trish snapped off her light. He looked at his bedside clock. It was only eleven thirty, so he read awhile longer. By the time he turned off his beside lamp, she was breathing in a light, steady rhythm, asleep. He lay on his side, staring at her form across the murky darkness and listening to her breathe. Patience, he told himself. Patience.

  Chapter 4

  CLIFF WAS GLAD for the early night when the alarm went off the next morning. He and Trish hurried through washing up and getting dressed. They met Hayden and Lyssa for a quick breakfast at the poolside café before hopping into a shuttle van waiting at the hotel entrance. By the time they reached the rainforest for zip-lining, the day was already steamy. Hazy dampness coated Cliff’s arms and calves as he emerged from the vehicle.

  Trekking into the jungle, the group crossed a narrow rope bridge spanning a shallow valley choked with vegetation. A tickle teased the pit of Cliff’s stomach as he scanned the length of skinny tree trunks stretching from the ground below to far above them. A light, steady rhythm slapped at the roof formed by the highest leaves. Rain. Past the bridge, a treacherous climb up a series of boards nailed into the side of a crooked tree brought them to a wide platform.