by Lauren Rowe
“Yup. He texted this morning and made me promise to save him a seat at breakfast and then on the bus.” Out of nowhere, my stomach flutters with a flock of butterflies at the thought of seeing Ryan this morning.
Charlotte sighs. “Oh, Tessa. Don’t you hear yourself? Get out of your own way for once and just take a leap of faith.”
“I’m thinking about it. You know I like to think things through.”
“Thinking things through is the opposite of taking a leap of faith.”
“I know. I’m just... He’s too good to be true. I need to slow things down and protect myself.”
“Okay, Crazy Girl. You do you. Have fun bicycling down a volcano. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Nut Job. Aloha.”
Chapter 44
Tessa
When all two hundred of us return to the resort from our amazing bike ride down a huge, dormant volcano, we descend upon the massive swimming pool area to hang out and relax in the sunshine before it’s time to get ready for the luau.
While one group floats on inner tubes around a lazy river, another one hops into the large pool to play a fierce game of water-volleyball (while wearing their spiffy colored jerseys, of course) and still another group cannonballs into the pool with no apparent agenda beyond making a gigantic splash. And what am I doing? Lying on a lounge chair at the edge of the pool in my black string bikini, a piña colada and smutty book both by my side, my body slathered in coconut-scented sunscreen. Heaven.
I pick up my book, but, despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to focus on it, not with the impromptu “show” currently happening in the pool. Specifically, the Morgan brothers (plus their honorary brother, Zander) are pretending to be dolphins under the deft command of their “trainer,” eight-year-old Coco, who’s standing on the ledge of the pool, directing her enthusiastic fleet with hand signals and chirpy, giggle-filled vocal commands.
Keane and Zander are definitely the “lead” dolphins (man, those boys are giving it their all), but Colby, Ryan, and Dax are no slouches in the dolphin-department, either. Oh my gosh, I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. Oh, wait. Yes, I can. When Keane told me the preposterous story of how he met his best friend in a locker room. And when Dax told me the history behind his band’s name. And when Ryan told me the story of how he wiped his shitty little five-year-old ass on his momma’s prized Christmas hand towel. And when Kat told me she used to go into bars and pretend she’d just escaped from a cult. And this morning when Mr. Morgan pedaled playfully past Keane on his bike and yelled, “Eat my dust, sucker!” over his shoulder. And on and on.
My eyes widen.
Oh my God.
I just realized something: I’m totally and completely in love with the entire Morgan family. Every last one of them. Well, except for Ryan, of course. I’m not in love with Ryan. I scoff to myself. Of course not. He might not be a liar, but he’s still a manwhore. And I’d better not forget it.
“Hey, Tessa,” a voice says, drawing me out of my rambling thoughts.
I look to my left. It’s Sarah with Henn’s girlfriend, Hannah, both of them in dripping wet bikinis, motioning to two vacant loungers next to me.
“Are these open?” Sarah asks.
“All yours,” I say.
The ladies make themselves comfortable.
“We were taking a bathroom-break from floating around the lazy river and saw you lying here all alone.”
“Oh, I’m just hanging out, watching the dolphin show.” I motion to the pool and both ladies check out the “dolphins” for a long beat.
“Who’s the little girl?” Sarah asks, laughing.
“Coco. One of the Morgan cousins just married her dad.”
“Aw,” Hannah says. “Those boys are so sweet to make Coco feel so included.”
“The Morgan boys are all really sweet like that,” Sarah says.
“Their momma must have taught them well,” Hannah says.
We all watch the show for several minutes, commenting and giggling about the boys’ ridiculous (but strangely sexy) dolphin maneuvers, and, finally, when Ryan opens his arms to Coco and coaxes her to jump into them from the ledge of the pool, we all simultaneously gasp and swoon.
“Oh my God, that was hot,” Hannah blurts. “Muscles and tattoos and pierced nipples and a leaping, laughing little girl? Jesus God, I suddenly wanna grab Henn and drag him to our room.”
We all laugh.
“I used to have the biggest crush on Ryan,” Sarah says matter-of-factly.
I stare at her, shocked.
Sarah shrugs. “Ryan’s gorgeous.”
Hannah scoffs. “How the heck did you pick just one Morgan brother to have a crush on?” She looks toward the swimming pool, her face etched with obvious appreciation for the men playing in the water. (The Morgan brothers are currently throwing Coco from man to man like a beach ball). “They’re all freaks of nature, just like Kat,” Hannah says. “Freaks, freaks, freaks. It’s not fair how much hotness is contained within one family. I feel like I’m watching that volleyball scene from Top Gun, only way better.”
Sarah and I both giggle and agree.
“So does Ryan know about your old crush on him?” Hannah asks Sarah (giving voice to the exact question I’m wondering myself).
“Hellz no,” Sarah replies. “I never said a word. I did tell Kat about it at the time and asked her to find out if maybe he was interested in taking me out, but she refused.”
“Why?” Hannah asks.
“Kat said Ryan would break my heart and then it would be weird at birthday parties and stuff.”
My heart leaps into my throat. Oh, shit. Did Sarah just describe my future to a tee?
Sarah continues, “This was years ago, of course, and, apparently, Ryan had just gotten out of some relationship and was really sowing his wild oats. Total player. So Kat was like, ‘Unless my brother’s fully prepared to make you happy for the rest of your life—which he’s so not—I’m not gonna let him touch you.’ So that was that.” She smiles broadly. “And thank God she refused, right? Or, heck, maybe Ryan wouldn’t have been interested, anyway. But, seriously, imagine how weird it’d be now if we had gone out.” She shudders at the mere thought.
Oh, Jesus. I’m suddenly reeling. What have I done? Have I ensured everything’s gonna be weird every time I see Ryan from now on?
“Plus, think about the butterfly effect,” Hannah says. “What if dating Ryan back then would have somehow kept you from meeting Jonas when you did.”
“Ooph. I shudder to think about it,” Sarah says. “Plus, nowadays, Ryan feels like a brother to me—the same as Josh or Henn. He’s objectively gorgeous, of course—I mean, just look at him—but the minute I met Jonas, I instantly knew the difference between having a crush on a guy, even a massive one, and meeting the true love of my life. Once you’ve finally experienced true love, there’s just no comparison.”
“Aw,” Hannah says. “You and Jonas are so amazing. Hashtag-relationship-goals.”
“You and Henny, too,” Sarah says. “I predict you’ll be following in Jonas’ and my footsteps before long.”
“Oh, for sure.”
Sarah squeals. “Really? Have you two talked about marriage?”
“Yeah, right after I caught the bouquet at your wedding, Henny and I talked about...”
I tune out, too freaked out to continue listening. When I met Ryan for the first time, it felt worlds different than any other time I’ve met a man—far, far different than when I met Stu or any other boyfriend. With all those previous guys, I’d felt sparks, sure, like I was meeting a crush, just like Sarah said, but when I met Ryan, oh, man, instantly, I felt something brand new, something otherworldly, like I was meeting... No. I can’t even let myself think it. It’s ridiculous. Preposterous. Out of bounds. A recipe for a broken heart.
“Hey, T-Rod,” Hannah says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “I keep noticing Kat and Sarah and Mrs. Morgan calling you Tessa. And yet it seems like Jos
h and Henn and all those guys keep calling you Theresa. Do you have a preference?”
“Tessa, honestly,” I say. “That’s what my friends and family have always called me.”
“Okay, then,” Hannah says, smiling. “Tessa it is.”
There’s a shrieking giggle in the pool and we look over there to find Coco sitting atop Ryan’s broad shoulders, battling Keane and Zander to the death in a game of chicken.
“Oh my God,” Hannah says. “My left ovary exploded when the Morgan brothers played ‘dolphin’—and now my right ovary’s gone, too.”
“He’s so freaking hot,” I blurt, without meaning to say it.
But neither woman seems at all fazed by my comment, thank God.
“A man who loves kids,” Hannah says, sighing. “Gets me every time.”
We all watch the battle for a long time, our tongues on the ground and our hearts throbbing, until finally, Coco pushes on Keane’s gorgeous chest with all her little might and Keane and Zander topple backward dramatically into the pool, much to Coco’s shrieking delight.
As Keane and Zander punch the surface of the pool like sore losers, Ryan guides Coco to stand atop his broad shoulders like a cheerleader, his strong hands gripping her calves, and takes her on a victory lap around the shallow end of the pool.
When Ryan and Coco’s victory tour makes its way to our side of the pool, Sarah, Hannah, and I applaud and cheer effusively, attracting Ryan’s attention.
Immediately, Ryan’s eyes lock with mine. He smiles broadly at me, and I return the gesture, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
Ryan’s not moving. Or looking away. And I’m glad. In fact, I wish this smiling, giddy moment would never end. He’s absolutely beautiful, inside and out.
“Hey, ladies,” a smooth male voice says.
Ryan’s smile suddenly vanishes. His face darkens.
I look to my right.
Reed Rivers.
Chapter 45
Tessa
Reed pulls up a chair and sits down at the end of our threesome’s lounge chairs, his dark eyes flickering over the length of my body before finally settling on Hannah’s face with a congenial smile. He politely asks Hannah how she’s liking her new apartment in L.A. and, when Hannah replies by profusely thanking Reed for the “amazing deal” he gave her on her place, it becomes clear Reed owns Hannah’s apartment building.
Huh. Interesting. Reed seems to have his fingers in a lot of different pots.
As Reed continues talking to Hannah, I covertly study him. I’ve never seen him in his bathing suit before, and I must say, he’s quite a specimen. But it’s not just his beautiful body (and rapidly growing business empire) that makes Reed Rivers one of the world’s most eligible bachelors (according to TMZ, anyway), it’s that he absolutely reeks of animal magnetism. I knew that already, of course—swagger has always wafted off this guy, no matter what he happens to be wearing—but I suppose I’m getting a whole new appreciation for his appeal now that I’m seeing his bare torso for the first time. Wow. The man is absolutely stunning to look at. Not even close to as stunning as Ryan, of course, but who is?
Ryan.
I glance toward the pool to find him standing stock still in the shallow end all by himself, staring at Reed like an assassin, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.
I look away, my heart palpitating.
Shit. I swear I can see a little vein throbbing in his neck from all the way over here.
“And what about you, T-Rod?” Reed asks.
“Hmm?”
“You having fun so far?”
“Oh. Yes. I’m having a blast. I thought it’d be hard for me to relax and be a guest this week, but as it turns out, it’s shockingly easy.” I hold up my piña colada by way of explanation and everyone laughs.
“So, hey, T-Rod,” Reed says, “I wanted to chat with you about the logistics for my surprise gift at the reception.”
“Oh, yeah, I got your text,” I say. “Having that musician play shouldn’t be a problem at all. I’ve already got a crew coming for tonight’s concert, so I’ll ask them—”
I shut my mouth. Josh and Kat (along with a large group of people) are approaching and, obviously, we don’t want them overhearing this particular conversation.
Sarah pops up from her lounge chair. “I’ll drag them to the lazy river,” she whispers. “Come on, Hannah Banana—help me lure them away.”
And, just like that, I find myself sitting alone with the one and only Reed Rivers. In my bathing suit. Six inches from his tanned, muscled frame.
Reed smiles. “Looks like it’s just you and me, T-Rod.” His gaze scorches over my near-naked body again, pausing blatantly at my breasts, and then comes to a rest on my eyes.
“Who knows how long it’ll last, though, so we’d better chat about this quickly,” I say. I glance at Ryan again to find him staring at us, his jaw tight, his eyes like lasers—a sexy sight that sends blood whooshing straight into my cooch. I clear my throat. “So tell me what you need, Reed, and I’ll make it happen.”
Reed tells me he’s arranged to have Josh and Kat’s favorite singer-songwriter fly in from the UK to perform three of his songs at the wedding reception, including Josh and Kat’s “first dance” song.
“Just put me in touch with the guy’s management and I’ll make sure everything’s handled,” I say. “I’ll arrange hotels and accommodations for him and his team here, for as long as they need.”
“Cool. But bill me for all that. Faraday can’t pay for his own gift.”
“Will do. And from a tech standpoint, it’s not a problem—I’ve already got a great sound company handling both the wedding band and the 22 Goats concert tonight, so I’ll ask them to add this guy’s mini-performance to the job.”
Reed smiles. “Perfect. The Mighty T-Rod’s on it.”
“Yes, sir. So, you’re planning be at the 22 Goats concert tonight, right?”
“There’s gonna be a 22 Goats concert tonight?”
“After the luau.” I shoot him a snarky look. “And if you don’t want me to break your legs, you’d better make sure you’re there, Mr. Rivers, because I’ve got a strong hunch you’re actually the guest of honor.”
Reed smiles playfully. “Why on earth would I be the guest of honor?”
“Don’t play coy with me. You know why.”
Reed flashes me a panty-melting smile. “Are you gonna be at the concert, T-Rod?”
“Of course,” I say, my pulse suddenly pounding in my ears. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
I smile and blush. Man, Reed Rivers is one attractive dude. Dark eyes. Brown hair. Strong jawline with stubble. Absolutely oozing confidence. “Well, you shouldn’t go to the concert for me,” I say. “Go because 22 Goats is awesome. I’ve watched their videos online and I can honestly say I think they’re incredible.”
Reed smirks. “I’m just playing with you. Josh sent me Dax’s demo a while back, so I’ve already checked out all the videos. I’m actually pretty sure I’m gonna sign Dax—I just need to see him play live before I make my final decision.”
“Oh, I really hope you sign ’em. I know Kat is crossing her fingers and toes, as well.”
“Well, you’re both sweethearts, but that doesn’t affect my decision at all. I don’t sign bands as a favor to anyone, not even Josh’s lovely personal assistant or his stubborn but lovely future wife.”
I blush. Shit. I’m so lame. “Oh, of course,” I stammer. “You’re running a business. Kat and I both realize that. I just meant...” I trail off. Shit.
“Too much goes into breaking a band to do anything half-assed,” Reed explains. “I’m not in this for charity—I’m in it to make truckloads of money while introducing musical greatness unto the world.”
I cock my head, assessing him, that last statement throwing me for a loop. “So if you knew a group would make you a mint but you thought their music was less-than-great, you wouldn’t sign them?”
“I wouldn’t sign ’em. I only sign bands I’m proud to put my name behind.”
“But, say you had the chance to sign that ‘Gangnum Style’ dude, knowing in advance it would blow up like it did?”
“Even if I knew for a fact that dude would make me richer than God, I’d still say no fucking thanks.”
“I’m impressed,” I say. “That’s very...” My eyes have involuntarily drifted over to the pool to check on Ryan again, but he’s not there. I look back at Reed. Where’d Ryan go? Crap! Did he leave because he’s pissed at me for talking to Reed? “Um. That’s very... Uh. Sorry. I just totally lost my train of thought.”
“I know the feeling. I keep losing my train of thought, too—thanks to that itty-bitty bikini you’re wearing, T-Rod. Damn.”
Whoa.
Reed’s flirted with me over the years now and again, but he’s never said anything so blatantly sexual to me before. But, then again, we’ve never been sitting six inches apart in nothing but our bathing suits before. My eyes flicker over Reed’s bare torso for a moment, taking in the unbelievable ridges in his abs and the bulges in his arms and the perfection of his round nipples. Sexy dude, I must say. Not as sexy as Ryan, of course, but who is?
“Seriously, you look mind-blowing in that bikini, T-Rod,” Reed says. “T-Rod?”
My eyes snap up from blatantly ogling Reed’s chest and he smirks.
“Looks like I’m not the only one feeling pleasantly surprised at the moment.”
I clear my throat. Shit. “So you’re seriously thinking of signing 22 Goats, then? That would be a dream come true for those boys. I talked to them last night and they’re all really excited at the possibility.”
One side of Reed’s mouth tilts up, a sure sign he knows I’ve just pointedly changed the subject. “Dax Morgan doesn’t need to worry about a damned thing,” he says. “I’ve watched the band’s YouTube videos with my entire team and we all agree: Dax is a star. Jesus Christ—have you seen the way that kid’s face looks under the lights? If I could order a rock star from the Rock Star Factory, it’d be Dax Morgan.”