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 5
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.
“Nothing like a little PDA to work up an appetite, right?” he asks the waiter before the unflustered hotel staff member shakes his head and turns back to the restaurant with a promise — or a warning — that he’d return in thirty minutes to collect our plates.
Chapter 6
Not even the bright airy living room of our suite chases away the darkness in my heart. The creamy yellow color of our walls paired with the open windows fill our suite with light, but it does nothing for me. Past the wall of windows our view of the ocean is unfettered. A cloudless sky promises a beautiful day past these four walls, but while everyone below us laps up the sunshine, my skin remains cold — the whole suite a sun-filled dungeon.
My eyes follow a couple as they walk on the beach. The woman with long brown hair bends down to grab something from the shore, probably a shell the morning scavengers missed. She shows it to her companion and he tucks it in his pocket. My eyes leave the couple and track a seagull’s flight across the water. I’ve propped a shoulder against the window. The sun’s rays warm the glass, but my skin can’t soak it up.
Today is the day Trey leaves.
“Why do you look like Grandma died?” Elena stands next to me. Her eyes sweep the area outside our fourth-floor window for signs of my distress. Back from her swim, she’s wrapped in one of the hotel’s big white towels, the straps of her suit visible over her shoulders.
I sigh and Elena turns at my obvious distress. “I wish I had found a shell on the beach yesterday. Something to remember the trip.”
She moves from the window and throws her used towel on the round coffee table in the middle of the room. “It was a one-night stand, Simone. The point is to not have a reminder.”
“Don’t say ONS where Mom can hear you,” I shush her as she walks back into our shared bedroom.
She stops in the doorway and turns back enough to give me an eye roll to beat all eye rolls. “Mom’s napping.”
Napping? It’s barely ten in the morning. Trey is scheduled to leave the hotel in about an hour and I promised I’d meet him for a quick good-bye. I’d go now to spend every last minute with him, but he never told me his room number and I didn’t want to be clingy enough to ask. Now I wish I had.
I don’t understand where my strong feelings for a man I’ve only known a day come from, but they’re undeniable. I’ve had many boyfriends, but I’ve never felt this powerfully about someone in the past, even after months of dating. Certainly not days. I don’t know what to do with them or him for that matter.
My suitcase and a few clothes are spread out over the white crumpled duvet of the queen size bed I’ve called mine this week, so I flounce on the small chase at the foot of the bed. My feet and head hang off the tiny piece of furniture in a horribly uncomfortable nature, but I was so showy with getting on it, I can’t waste it by moving now.
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a one-night stand.”
Elena pulls her suitcase from our closet and hurls it onto her bed before she turns to me. Her eyes flash with unspoken questions when she sees my stiff position, but she’s smart and doesn’t comment on it. “What do you mean it wasn’t a one-night stand? You were with him all day yesterday. What did you do if it wasn’t the horizontal mambo?”
“You mean the horizontal tango? Do kids these days call it the mambo?”
She stops throwing clothes from her case to the bed long enough to give me a pointed stare. “Whatever. The point is…well… to be honest I don’t know what the point is.” Her eyebrows narrow and she looks down at the mess of clothes in confusion.
“The point is… it was a vacation fling,” I throw an answer out even if it isn’t much better, “and now it’s done.”
“But you didn’t fling. It can’t be a vacation fling unless you fling,” her hands come together and swish back and forth in some demented sign language move for that horizontal mambo she was talking about earlier.
“We did other… stuff.” I try to defend myself but realize I don’t want to go into it and wish I had kept my mouth shut.
Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. After our lunch on the beach, we wandered the shore for a few miles. We left the resort to shop at this big open air market elsewhere on the island. Locals with tiny booths made of island wood sold everything from blankets to small toys for children. I picked up a few small bobble head turtles for the girls at work.
Outside the stalls an artist sat on the street corner in paint splattered shorts and t-shirt painting ocean landscapes. They were simple in nature, but Trey was taken by them. The clipped pace he’d been leading down the main road slowed until we passed the area with small canvases lining the street. At the last piece, Trey turned and started back toward the artist with me on his heels.
The painting he selected featured a beach in the foreground with tall grass to the right and a few reeds blowing in the breeze. Rudimentary waves crash on the shore with a cloudless sky and a blue green ocean acting as a background. It was a simple piece for the $10 asking price, but Trey’s expression took on the look of someone who’d walked away with the Mona Lisa.
“Are you packing this blanket?” Elena snaps out the dark blue Mexican style blanket from the floor where it fell between our two beds during the night.
I jump up to grab it from her. “Yes.”
Her smile says more than a simple facial expression should. “I thought so,” she says and moves back to her packing as if her word is law.
I start to fold the blanket into the smallest square possible and stick it in my empty suitcase first. Last night Trey and I shared a candlelit meal at The Seashell Restaurant for dinner. The fact we were both severely underdressed didn’t faze Trey as he sat across our small table and woofed down his sand-free steak in his green swim trucks and grey tank top. With my beach bag resting on the floor between us, I at least had a shirt with sleeves to put on over my black bikini top.
Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology Page 23