The Consequence of Revenge

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “And not wearing socks with sandals,” I felt the need to add. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s a deal breaker.”

  “That and men who hate goats. I have a goat farm so . . .” Her voice trailed off as she winked.

  “Fine, how’d you know?”

  “How’d I know?” Her eyebrows shot up. “The first day you ran into shark-infested waters when a goat looked in your direction.”

  “Well . . .” We started walking, the camera crew followed. “You’ll be happy to know that Hades and I have settled our differences and now he sleeps on my underwear.”

  “Ah, a goat paradise. How nice.”

  She smiled again.

  And honestly, I could not stop smiling. And it wasn’t because she had cropped blond hair and wore absolutely no makeup but still managed to look fresh-faced and cute. I didn’t feel lust for her or anything, just companionship. She was no Becca. Then again, Becca was in a league all her own. But this girl? I could hang out with her and not want to kill myself in the process.

  She smiled. “My name’s Sam, just in case you forgot.”

  “Sam?”

  “Well, Sammy.” Her nose wrinkled.

  “Sammy.” I tried out the name. “I think Sam fits you better.”

  “Me too.” She reached for my hand.

  Rex made a motion with his hands for us to go out to the docks. So I took Sam with me, falling into easy conversation. That is, until we stopped at the end of the dock and noted the Jet Skis.

  I loved sports. All sports.

  But water sports? Let’s just say I didn’t have any experience with them except for the one time when I was sixteen. I went Jet Skiing and had to be freaking rescued by the coast guard because I couldn’t get back on my Jet Ski. Fine, so back then my upper body strength was that of a wet noodle. I developed later in life!

  “You know how to drive those things?” She pointed.

  I laughed. “Please, girl, I drive them in my sleep.”

  And by them I meant cars.

  Not the Jet Skis.

  “So”—I pointed—“I guess we just get on our own . . . jets . . .” I nodded. “And race.”

  “Race?” She perked up.

  “Aw, how cute.” I patted her head. “Scared?”

  “Of a metrosexual on a Jet Ski?” She snickered. “Watch me.”

  So I did.

  I watched her get on her ski and tried to mimic the movements. All was well until I was asked to turn it on.

  A girl asked me to turn it on and I drew a blank, so I defaulted. “Aw, that’s not the first time someone’s asked me to turn them on.” I winked.

  Her response was to take off on her own Jet Ski, splashing me in the process.

  “Rex!” I said through gritted teeth. “What do I do?”

  He winked. “Why, Max, you turn it on. Having trouble with your engine?”

  “You’re dead to me!” I pointed at the camera crew. “Every single one of you! No Christmas presents.”

  They stared blankly at me.

  With a roar I turned the key, gripped the handles, and went back so fast my feet kicked said handles as I landed ass-first in the water.

  Coughing up a lung, I made it over to my Jet Ski and managed to get back on before I tried again and took off after Sam.

  Three hours later I was sore in places no man should ever be sore. I was so frozen to the seat that it took both Rex and the camera guy to help me get off the Jet Ski. Even then I walked like I had balls the size of a prize-winning bull as I made my way very slowly down the dock.

  “So that was fun!” Sam jumped up and down next to me. I needed a drink and she looked like she was ready to go another round. Damn high schoolers.

  “Yeah, it was righteous,” I said dryly.

  “Wanna race?” she asked, getting into the ready position.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I want a newspaper, a snifter of whiskey, house pants, and a chair.” I paused. “Holy shit, I’m my father!”

  “How old are you?” She examined me from head to toe.

  “Too old for the likes of you,” I grumbled. “Run along and climb a tree, and the old man will watch and take pictures.”

  “Um . . .” Sam cringed.

  “Poor sentence choice.” I nodded. “But to be fair I’m extremely dehydrated.”

  “Right.” She tucked her hair behind her ear; it fell across her face anyway. “So do I stay or?”

  “Oh, sorry!” I managed to pull her into my arms and press a chaste kiss to her lips. “You stay.”

  “Woo-hoo!” She jumped again.

  “Stop jumping, you’re making me tired.” I yawned.

  She pushed me. “You’re old.”

  “Truth.” I nodded. “See ya later. Thanks for the date, Sam.”

  “Bye, Max!” She ran off.

  “If only I could channel that youthful energy.” I sighed out loud.

  “One hour until your next date.” Rex slapped me on the back. “Just think, after this you only have a few girls left!”

  “Then I get off the Island?” I said in a hopeful voice.

  “Yes.” Rex nodded. “Only to get on the roller coaster called marriage. Welcome to life.”

  “That wasn’t encouraging,” I pointed out.

  “If I meant to encourage you, you’d know it.” Rex smiled. “Now, how about you go refresh yourself and grab a drink.”

  “Or ten.” I saluted and walked off toward my hut.

  With a yawn I opened the door and locked it behind me. Rubbing my eyes I made my way to the bed and noticed that the sheets were pulled back, and slowly my head lifted.

  Becca.

  Becca naked.

  Becca naked in my bed.

  “Shit,” I grumbled. “I drowned, didn’t I? And this is heaven?”

  Becca tugged me onto the bed. “I don’t know, does this feel like heaven?” She nipped my lips and then used her teeth to bite and lick me from my jaw to my ear.

  “No.” I jerked toward her. “In heaven my clothes would already be off.”

  “So . . .” She shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

  “Oh, you know.” I sighed. “My morals.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Which I happily threw out the window the first time I got you naked.” I pushed her down on the bed. “Carry on.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  BECCA

  I’d had four too many mimosas, which was the only explanation. Who in their right mind sneaks into a guy’s hut and hides in his bed naked? This girl. Apparently champagne and orange juice make it so that your moral compass doesn’t even work anymore!

  It was too late to back out.

  I realized this the minute the doorknob turned.

  And then I was kind of . . . done panicking.

  Because it was Max. And I liked Max. He was . . . just . . . incredible. He was smart, funny, gorgeous, and yeah, maybe I was acting a little slutty, but again, I was a bit inebriated, so what would normally be a terrible idea felt so right, especially when I saw the look of pure adoration cross his face. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

  Anything beyond that my mind wouldn’t let me focus on, because I was pretty sure my heart was screaming at me to stop before it got broken, but I couldn’t help it.

  Max’s kisses made me forget myself, which at this point? I needed. I didn’t want to think about the weeks after the show, the money—anything. I just wanted to focus on Max and how everything felt so perfect when we were together. He kissed me harder. Those kisses of his were dangerous, because they made me focus on everything all at once—but that everything was him and only him. He made me feel on fire, yet safe at the same time.

  “I really like you, you know,” Max said a half hour later. His clothes were everywhere. Hades was facing the wall, clearly embarrassed at the free show he’d just received, and I was happily relaxed against Max’s shoulder, rubbing his chest, his golden-bronzed chest.

  “I like you too,” I said softl
y.

  “More than the others,” Max added. “More than anyone.”

  “Not because of the show?” I asked quietly, not wanting to make eye contact lest my heart shatter into a billion pieces if he joked or said that we were only together because of the show.

  I hated how vulnerable I felt in that moment. Like one wrong sentence coming from his lips would destroy my world, altering me forever.

  “Becca.” Max shifted and then tilted my chin toward him. “The show brought me you, but it doesn’t define what this is.” He pointed between the two of us, then pulled me in for a kiss. “Speaking of the show, we should probably get ready for our date.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Told you”—he winked—“I saved the best for last.”

  I sighed as he slowly got out of bed and did the naked walk to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. I was staring like a lunatic but he was just so . . . firm everywhere and sexy and . . .

  “Becca?” Max grinned. “You okay?”

  “Yeah?” I said breathlessly. “Why?”

  “You’re about ready to fall off the bed and I could have sworn I heard a moan, but hey, it could have been Hades.”

  Wasn’t Hades.

  My skin went hot all over.

  With a grin Max walked over to me and kissed my head. “Join me?”

  “Huh?”

  “Shower,” he whispered against my ear. “Join me.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, just a few minutes.”

  “But the date is in a half hour and—”

  Max silenced me with his lips and then lifted me into his arms and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Hot water cascaded down my back as he walked us both into the shower and then pressed me up against the wall. “You were saying?”

  “Good idea?” I opened my eyes.

  Water dripped down Max’s dark hair and across his full lips and strong jaw. Damn, the man was so good-looking it hurt.

  “So . . .” With one hand he kept me firmly placed against the wall, with his other hand he gripped my fingers, interlocking them with his, and then gently pressed them against the wall, sliding me higher until he was able to position his body beneath me. “Let’s start this date off right, shall we?”

  No speaking took place over the next fifteen minutes. Some laughing, a lot of moaning, and a few slaps, but that was it. The shower was over too soon. Just like our time on the show would be and I was left to wonder.

  Would it always be like this?

  Or was I just another sucker falling for the lie that was reality TV?

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  MAX

  Because of my impromptu shower session with Becca, I’d had no time to get ready. Then again, she was the type of girl I figured I’d never actually be ready for. She was more like a hurricane-force wind blowing in my direction. You can duck and take cover, but it’s best to just stand out in the middle of the road and embrace what’s happening.

  If I thought about it too much, my man card started getting shaky. Every guy has one. Trust me, I don’t lie. When little boys are brought into this world they’re given what I like to refer to as a list of instructions. A boy must always chase things. A boy must always reference bodily fluids when he is uncomfortable. Until the age of eight, boys by their birthright are allowed to throw rocks, grass, or any itchy object in the direction of little girls. By age twelve all boys are allowed to bathe in Axe body spray in order to deter their own body odor. The list goes on and on, but the point I’m trying to make is that guys go through stages. When they finally get to the stage where they’re faced with the rules about commitment, a guy does one of two things. He commits and gladly hands over his man card, receiving a new one in the process titled husband, also known as whipped. Or the man hesitates, trying to hold on to his card while also trying to reach for the husband one.

  Doesn’t work that way, my friends.

  I’ve seen many a man lose a limb because he overestimated his ability to reach and hold on at the same time.

  So at this point? As I was walking toward the beach to join Becca? I was stuck in the middle zone. If I stepped into commitment it meant I was leaving everything behind.

  It meant uncharted territory.

  And I think it’s already been established I would have been a terrible explorer.

  The film crew followed me down the beach. Becca was wearing a long, black halter cover-up and that same white swimsuit that made my entire body heat on sight.

  I needed to focus on this date. There was no future, no past, only the present. Me and her . . .

  “What the hell?” Rex called out, and pointed behind me. I turned to see Hades trot in my direction.

  “Hades!” I scolded. “Go back to the hut, I’ll be home soon.”

  Hades hung his head.

  “Buddy.” I shuffled toward him. “I know I haven’t been paying much attention to you, what with”—I looked behind me and lowered my voice to a whisper—“Becca staying over, but I swear, we’ll do stuff when I get back.”

  His little head popped up.

  “Like that, do ya?”

  Hades smiled. Okay, so he didn’t smile, but he nodded his head a bit.

  “We’ll watch Discovery Channel, I promise. I’ll find you a nice lady goat and who knows, maybe one day you’ll have kids!”

  Hades looked like he was grinning, so either he’d just passed gas or he was as horny as I was and the whole idea of procreating had merit. Satisfied, he trotted back toward the hut and sat.

  “That goat is . . .” Rex didn’t finish his sentence; he just scratched his head and cleared his throat. “All right, last date of the day before the group date. After this all bets are off. You ready, Max?”

  “My mom says I was born ready.” I shrugged. “It’s the truth. Apparently I clapped my hands five minutes after being born. I was a child of promise and all that.”

  Rex stared. “Good for you.” With a sigh he ran his hands through his greasy hair and pointed to the beach. “Remember, you get the same amount of time with Becca as the rest of the girls. This date is going to be more . . . intimate than the rest. We need to catch some of the evening on camera, then the rest of it is yours, all right? But, remember, this is TV, so . . .” He elbowed me and waggled his eyebrows. “If you extend past the allotted time . . . allow us to film.”

  His eyebrows looked like caterpillars just ready to bolt from his overly large forehead. Gross.

  “Yeah, thanks, Rex.” I slapped his back. “I’ll just go get the girl now.”

  “You do that.” Rex motioned for the cameras to roll.

  “Hey,” I called out, and my voice cracked. Someone shoot me now. Becca turned and then ran toward me.

  Let me repeat.

  The girl? The really hot one who allowed me to see her naked and then allowed it a second time, ruling out drunken mistakes and insanity? Running. Toward. Me.

  I suddenly had a vision of Becca in a red bathing suit.

  She’d do Baywatch good, just sayin’.

  I caught her just as she flew into the air and wrapped her legs around my waist. When we fell into the sand, I just took her with me. Not caring that yes, our kissing was going to be recorded for the world to see. I wanted her and fine, okay, I was ready to release the card.

  Funny how when you finally make a decision to do something, it’s no longer hard, but extremely easy, and then you wonder why the hell you were so stressed out in the first place.

  So as my man card fluttered away I didn’t even glance up and wave good-bye. I simply kissed Becca harder, knowing that I’d made the right decision.

  She was mine. I was going to keep her. I mean, I’d probably have to divide my time between her, Little G, and Hades, considering I’d gained a freaking animal family on the Island, but still.

  I was going to make it work.

  When she pulled back and looked into my eyes, I had trouble finding my voice.

  “
You okay?” she asked.

  “I’m great.” I licked my lips and kissed her mouth again. “Now stop attacking me so we can get started on our kick-ass date.”

  “You attacked me.” Her eyebrows lifted.

  “Not true. I believe it was you that launched yourself through the air and landed on my hotness. I merely caught you. I was afraid you’d sprain your ankle or something.”

  “My hero,” Becca said dryly.

  “Aw.” I placed my hands on my heart and sighed. “If I had a dollar . . .”

  Rolling her eyes, she grabbed my hand. We walked down the beach toward the rock formation on the other side of the huts.

  “Did you plan this date?” Becca asked once we’d reached the rocks.

  “Yes. All by myself. Can’t you tell? Doesn’t this just scream Max?” I pointed to the rocks.

  “I’m confused.” Becca looked around the area. “Where’s the date?”

  “Oh, that.” I nodded. “We have to go up.”

  “Up what?”

  I smiled. “The rocks.”

  “As in, we have to . . .” Becca tilted her head. “Climb?”

  “You can spider-monkey on my back if that makes you feel better. I’m big enough to carry us both but don’t get pissed if I drop you. I can’t be held responsible if something bites my hand and I lose my grip.”

  “Has anyone ever told you how brave you are?” Becca asked. “No?”

  “I get so tired of compliments.” I sighed.

  “Okay.” Becca clapped her hands together. “I can climb. I can do this. I mean, it’s not like there’s sharks waiting for us up there.”

  “If there were, would you scream?” I asked as the professional climbers started putting us in our gear.

  “Probably. Why?” Becca pulled off her cover-up and stepped into the harness. Swear she looked like every dream I’d ever had in high school about Xena, warrior princess. White swimsuit with harnesses and rope? Good golly Miss Molly, was there anything better?

  “Just curious what it takes to make you scream.” I sighed.

  “You should know—”

  “Believe me.” I cut her off. “I do.”

  Her eyes heated.

  “I just want to cover all my bases, you know, just in case I lose my touch.”