Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  Headed back in our correct direction, Trey continues to hold my hand. His fingers are larger than mine and feel thick, possibly callused in the way that only men’s hands tend to be. I like their rough texture next to my own overly lotioned skin. The gold watch on his wrist rubs at the contact point on my arm.

  “Do you want to ride a jet ski?” he asks without slowing his pace. I’m thankful my long legs can keep up.

  I hesitate in my answer. “I’ve never ridden one before. They look like fun, but that guy was two steps down from a used car salesman.”

  Trey laughs at my answer and pulls us to a stop on the beach. “Well then you’ll like what I have planned for today.” He doesn't say more and we both stare out into the ocean where a few people play in the water. Farther out jet skis crisscross back and forth over the open space. At no point does he make an attempt to release my hand. I don’t either.

  My free hand reaches up to play with a few loose pieces of my hair. The thin blonde strands look almost white in the sunlight.

  “Ah, here they are.” Trey pulls me closer to the water’s edge where two bright orange jet skis with Sea-Doo scrawled across the side come to a stop a few feet away. He lets go of my hand and I want to protest for a moment until he wraps his fingers around the hem of his grey shirt and pulls it up, leaving him in only the same green swim trucks he had on yesterday. His solid chest flexes with his movement, and I wonder how it would feel to slip my hand up and down it.

  Not wanting to be caught with drool on my face, my eyes scan across the matching vehicles as their riders jump into the water and walk toward us.

  “We get to ride them?” My question stops Trey’s forward movement, but is answered by the first of the riders to make it to the beach.

  “Have you ever ridden one before?” the taller of the two who comes to stand by me asks. His black swim trunks hug his hips and showcase a muscular physique, but it doesn’t appeal as much now that I get to ogle a shirtless Trey all morning.

  The snaps from a life jacket being undone catch my attention while the guy next to me passes off the jacket he’s wearing. He pulls on the straps to tighten the vest around my midsection. To my left, Trey receives the same attention and I frown at the loss of my prime chest-viewing area.

  Trey’s head pops up to mine and he questions the look I’m giving him. “What?”

  Last night we agreed to make this a vacation fling. In three more days I’ll never see him again, and while the thought already makes me unhappy, I also use it as my reason to throw caution to the wind.

  “He’s ruined my view.” My hand moves up and down to encompass his midsection. New York Simone isn’t so brazen, but vacation Simone is sexy and flirty.

  Trey and the guy suiting him up both laugh. “Mine too, baby.” His head tilts to indicate my own lifejacket now in place across my chest.

  I shake my head at his forlorn look and follow the guy to the jet ski where he gives me instructions on riding the beast. After I know the basics of how to gas and brake, he wraps the safety pull string around my wrist in case I fall off and need to emergency stop. I have no plans to take a drop into the water, but I’m glad someone thought of this.

  To my right Trey gets the same safety speech, and then both men begin to point in different directions in front of us, giving Trey directions I assume. My striped bag still hangs over his shoulder as he keeps it up and out of the water. He passes the bag to the taller of our new companions.

  Trey walks through the water to the machine next to mine and jumps on. “Are you ready?” He grins from his seat, but it looks a little mischievous.

  Before I answer he slams his hand on the throttle and takes off toward the open ocean spraying me with water from the back end of his craft. As quickly as he started, he stops about fifty feet ahead and turns his jet ski around in my direction. There’s a little worry on his face, possibly concerned what my reaction to his stunt will be. I pretend to dust off some stray water from my shoulder and then grip the handlebar and race my jet ski forward. I pass Trey, laughing at his bewildered expression and head out farther into the little bay ahead of us.

  The hum of Trey’s machine is my only clue before he passes me. We spend a few minutes riding alongside each other as we work our way out to open water. The spray from his machine and splashing of his man-made waves on the side of mine have taken my hair from damp to wet in a few passes. I have to keep wiping the water from my eyes and forehead to see. I stop to re-band my hair and Trey pulls up next to me.

  “Are you having fun?” He leans over his handlebars and I track a few trails of water as they work their way down his face from his hair line. If we were closer, I’d reach out and follow one with my finger. This is vacation Simone after all.

  “Yes!” My smile is huge from my excitement. A few sail boats come into view a little past the mouth of our bay. The bright white sails and bobbing of the boats are a sight I’ve only seen in pictures. “Can we go check out the boats?” I point to where they’ve congregated over the last hour we’ve been riding.

  “Sure.” Trey’s hands go back to his handlebars as he sits on his seat, the orange color on the Sea-Doo clashing against the dark tan of his legs.

  I follow him toward the boats as they bob in the water against the ocean waves. Other various colored jet skis with riders, some with life jackets and others without, race back and forth in the same area as Trey and I, but we’ve managed to maintain our own private space for most of our ride.

  As we near the boats, three bright blue jet skis circle around each other, each catching the waves created from their companions and causing their machines to jump higher as they hit each wave.

  Trey moves ahead on his jet ski and holds up a thumb pointing to the cluster’s right. I follow him and we both turn to go around the rowdy group. Trey moves farther ahead of me and I squeeze my gas harder to try and catch up. In that moment one of the other riders shoots his jet ski in front of mine.

  I pull my handlebars to the right, but hit his wave. The force between my turn and the wave hitting my jet ski sends me tumbling over the side and into the water. The cold Atlantic water rushes over my head chilling me after the last hour spent under the warming sun. My mouth opens to gasp at the cold contact and water rushes in. I throw my arms out and push up to force my head above water again, spitting out my salty mouthful.

  “Simone!” Trey’s voice is a whisper over the hum of the other riders still circling their friends.

  My orange and black machine bobbles in the water beside me, no longer running. The emergency rip cord hits my forehead as I bring my hands up to wipe the water from my face. Trey’s jet ski stops next to me and the splash created when he dives off sends more waves up to battle against my efforts.

  He splashes in the water until he’s next to me. “You didn’t answer me. Are you okay?” His eyes stretch over my face searching for my answer while his hands grab me by the shoulders. “Can you swim?”

  I look at him puzzled. “Yes, I can swim.” And even if I couldn’t, the life jacket would keep me up.

  His face relaxes after he determines I’m fine. “That guy’s an asshole. You might have been seriously hurt.”

  I laugh at his concern. “Are you going to go beat him up for me?”

  “For you? Totally.” He pulls me closer so our life jackets bump against one another. His large hand cups my cheek for a second until he traces the curve of my lower lip with his thumb.

  I wait for a kiss I’m sure is coming, but it doesn’t happen in some wild passionate moment like I expected. Trey leans in slowly and his lips press delicately on the corner of my mouth before the water pulls us apart. “So gorgeous.”

  The words make me blush, and I cast my eyes downward. A thick emotion stirs in my chest and tightens my throat. I guess even vacation Simone can’t handle compliments from tall, hot, barely clothed men.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My butt sinks into the dark blue thickly woven blanket covering us from the sand and I
slip off my flip-flops before I lift my feet onto the blanket. The blanket is similar to the one I used last night. The one that’s sprawled across my bed back in the room. The one I'll be discreetly packing with the rest of my stuff unless Trey asks for it back outright. Even then there’s a chance he’ll have to rip it from my fingers. Apparently vacation Simone is sentimental. Who knew?

  “Order anything you want.” Trey passes a long thin laminated menu to me from his place on the blanket while he looks over his own.

  The selections are for lunch at one of the resort restaurants. There aren’t prices on the sheet, but I remember the name, The Sea Shell, as one of the higher end options from the brochure.

  It fits with what I learned about Trey earlier. I fell into bed after Elena busted us in the hallway, too tired to research him at the time. With my new blanket wrapped around me under the sheets, I spent the night full of dreams starring Trey.

  This morning I had more energy as I ran around with nervous jitters getting ready. Elena and I ate an early breakfast, but rather than follow her to the room, I snuck into one of the small hotel computer labs. A few quick searches later and I had a mini encyclopedia of information on Trey Good, Raven Digital Arts, and Dragons Reborn.

  Pages of results came up, but most relate to the 2.6-billion-dollar record breaking sale of Dragons Reborn. The number made my mouth drop open. What kind of video game is worth billions? Trey even has a wiki page, but it was pretty boring stuff. The man lacks personal scandal. The few short paragraphs on his personal life were… normal. I might even go as far as to say boring.

  A short paragraph detailed the sale of Dragons Reborn. The designer and Trey’s best friend, Finnegan McRyan, gave Trey an undisclosed amount of money and then made him CEO of the company. The site didn’t list any legal battles or other company upheaval like you'd expect from a multi-billion-dollar deal. The paragraph after listed the games Raven Digital Arts has sold.

  The shortest paragraph included information on Trey’s early life. I didn’t want to read it because what if I mentioned a fact about him that he hadn’t told me yet? It would be horrible, but I mean it was right in front of me. I couldn’t not look. In the end it wasn’t exciting. Trey grew up in Northern California and then attended Stanford University — rooming with Finnegan — before they both dropped out before their senior year. That’s it. No drama. Considering what I put up with on a daily basis with my not-as-rich clients, it’s a little unbelievable.

  Oh yes… well, there were pictures. The website didn’t mention Trey dating anyone now or in the past, but more than one of his pictures featured a tall striking redhead. She wasn’t referenced as a girlfriend, but she wasn’t named as a sister either. Plus, with the way her arms wrap around him in more than one shot, family is out of the question. Because I’m a girl and I’m crazy, I want to ask him about this nameless mystery woman, but I can’t admit I stalked him. So my lips have to remain sealed.

  “I’ll take the steak, medium rare with fries on the side.” Trey places his order to the waiter I missed approaching.

  Busy categorizing everything I learned about Trey today, I haven’t looked at the menu past my first glance as it was handed to me. My eyes fall to the front page and I order the first agreeable thing, the chicken Caesar salad.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls.” Trey looks disheartened as he hands back our menus to the waiter. We both watch him walk toward to hotel.

  “What?”

  His hand moves to his face and he rubs his jaw line with his thumb before he answers, “I didn’t peg you as a girl that refuses to eat in front of a guy or only eats salad. I’m sad to be proven otherwise.”

  I release a quick laugh at his distress over my salad. I won’t admit I was lost in daydreams about him so rather, I lie, “I’m not, but I figured we're eating on the beach, and if I get sand in my food I don’t want to know. I’ll never be able to tell, but you’ll spend the whole meal making sure it’s pepper not snail poop decorating the top of your steak.”

  Trey’s mouth hangs open, his face one of pure revulsion. To be honest I can’t believe I thought of something so well-crafted and disgusting, let alone on a time crunch.

  “Great. Now I’ll never be able to eat steak. I’ll be checking for snail poop even once I’m back in San Francisco.” His eyes sweep back and forth on the blanket as if snails are waiting beneath it ready to swan dive on his plate when our food comes.

  I laugh and he pops his head up with a smirk. He reaches into my striped SeaBag and pulls out the two waters he’d thrown in earlier when he picked me up. I drink from the one passed to me before I lie back on the blanket and stare up at the pale blue sky. Small fluffy clouds dot the area above us. An occasional seagull squawks in the distance and the waves rush ashore calming me with nature's song.

  Trey’s head falls to the blanket next to mine as he releases a sigh. “It’s busy, yet peaceful here. I’m not ready to go back tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? I thought yesterday you said you had three days left.” I start to panic, my earlier relaxation gone.

  “Yeah, yesterday I had three day left. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow,” he answers as if that’s somehow sound logic for counting days while on vacation.

  Trey’s leaving on Saturday rather than Sunday like I assumed. This morning was wonderful, but now I know it’s the only day I’m going to get, and I want to spread it out. Slow down time so we can share more of it together.

  Emotions flow over me, but I answer with a crestfallen, “Oh.” My eyes never leaving the clouds above me.

  He picks up on the sadness in my tone and rolls to his side to face me. “I’d stay if I could, but I have to get back to San Francisco. I left Finn in charge and while he’s capable for a week by himself, I worry he’ll start offering unlimited health care or free cars. We already provide housing and lunch to our employees. The man thinks he’s a skinny Santa Claus who delivers gifts year round. I’m actually more worried over the fact he hasn’t called me all week than I would be if there had been mini issues every day.”

  His description of his purported closest friend wipes the sadness from my expression.

  Trey sighs and settles to his back again. “I hope his girlfriend, Aspen, can keep him under control. She has the business sense Finn seems to lack.”

  The admiration he expresses for Finn is evident in every word the man speaks, even those poking fun at his best friend. “You guys must get along well, huh?”

  His head turns to me on the blanket again. “He’s my best friend. We met at Stanford where we roomed together. He planned to graduate college, get some posh job, and then design games in his free time. I pushed for what we have now. He even lost a girlfriend over it all. She was a bitch, but at the time he loved her. We sold our first game in college and I practically forced Finn to drop out to work on the company.”

  “It sounds like you did him a favor. Now he has a profitable company.”

  Trey’s head goes back to the clouds. “Yeah, a company he didn’t want. He hasn’t always seen it as a favor.”

  His comment catches me off guard. “Huh?”

  “Finn never wanted the big company. He planned to finish school. I took those opportunities away from him. It’s why my number one priority is making sure his life remains as uncomplicated as possible. I have to prove we can do this and do it well. I can't fuck it up.”

  “Sounds like a lot of pressure. Without you he wouldn’t have the money he has now.” I slip a little of my extra knowledge.

  Trey’s head turns to mine again. The small smile from one upturned lip is proof he probably expected me to research him and he’s not upset about it.

  “Besides the outrageously priced baseball suite and his ability to spoil his girlfriend with junk she never asks for, Finn doesn’t care for the money. He hates the publicity. I took his nice quiet life and put him on the front page of every tech blog. It almost cost him his current girlfriend as well.” He sits up in one fluid movement,
clearly agitated by our talk. “We’ve agreed I can grow the company as much as I want just as long as Finn doesn't have to wear a suit.”

  His body leans over mine, but he props himself up on his elbows so only the lower portion of our legs touch. Maybe his sitting up move wasn’t out of agitation after all. I grin up at him and wrap my arms around his neck. A quick tug from my hands and his mouth is on mine. He tortures me with his lips and tongue, allowing me air every few presses. His fingers from one hand caress my exposed skin, down my arm to my hip and back up again while his other arm keeps him propped up and away from me. Our upper bodies aren’t touching, but I lower a hand from his neck to his chest and grab the material of his shirt. His heart pounds strongly against my palm, affirmation I’m not alone in this moment.

  I take in a breath as his lips move from my mouth to my ear and he begins to trail them down my neck. Each small kiss causes little shivers of pleasure to goosebump my skin.

  I’m about to move my hand under his shirt when a throat clears loudly beside us. I jump and my forehead hits Trey’s chin when he isn’t quick enough. The waiter who took our order stands over us with a large black tray balanced on one hand.

  “Your lunch is ready, sir.” His head tilts to the tray and even though his lip curls up in a short smile, he doesn’t laugh or comment on our compromising position.

  “Right, thanks.” Trey answers him but doesn’t move from his position over my body.

  I push on him with the hand still on his chest. “Um, Trey.”

  He rests his forehead on mine. “I need a minute.” He moves his hips. They don’t touch me, but it’s enough to fill me in on the situation contained in his thin swim trunks.

  I meet the waiter’s eyes and shrug a shoulder. When he raises an eyebrow in return, I cover my mouth with a hand, but my body shakes with laughter.

  “Well, if you laugh at him.” Trey’s slow movements take him away from me and he sits crossed legged on the towel waving his hand for the waiter to hand him a plate quickly.