by Carrie Lomax
“Ten thousand, maybe more. It bounces around, and it’s different across platforms.”
Marc hmmed, his attention locked on some sort of control panel. His disinterest stung. Posting pictures to social media was her hobby, a way of maintaining some creative control in the face of her corporate job. Plus, the instant feedback of likes, comments, and retweets was an ego boost when it worked. Over time, she’d learned what images got a response, and Marc, being Marc, would undoubtedly be popular. The few images she’d posted of Zach had really taken off, though he hadn’t exactly appreciated it.
“Is there anywhere to take a shower?” Might as well get out of the way and clean up if her presence wasn’t useful up here.
“Yeah, opposite the kitchen below deck.” He hardly looked up from whatever he was doing. Alyssa ignored her slighted pride. The last thing she wanted was him following her silly yoga-and-travel-themed Instagram pictures. He wouldn’t, anyway.
Sure enough, tucked away in the little bathroom was a handheld shower. The only thing that could’ve felt better was Marc’s body crammed into the little space with her. Hot water alone was damn good. The wet bandage peeled away from her heel. The puncture wound beneath had scabbed over and looked much better.
When she emerged, Alyssa’s stomach flipped. A set of Marc’s clothing lay on the banquette. She pulled them on. The faded beige shorts barely closed over her hips, while she had to tie a knot in the t-shirt to keep it from hanging like a bag. Marc was either very thoughtful, or he’d had a lot of practice with the morning after.
Jealousy gnawed at her as she finger-combed and braided her hair to keep it from getting snarled any worse. It was absurd. You know how Marc operates; you were counting on it. Stop trying to make this mean something.
When she came back up, Alyssa found coffee, fruit and toast on a small lipped table behind the captain’s chair. She arched her back, then settled a few inches closer to him. He stretched one arm across her shoulders. It was blissful floating with Marc beneath the bright blue sky.
“I can’t believe you live like this.” Alyssa mentally face palmed.
Why can’t you just talk to him like a normal person? He’s always been nice to you—really nice, last night. You talk to strangers all the time at work without paralysis of the vocal chords.
She couldn’t help it. Marc’s inhumanly hot presence fried her neural networks and disconnected her tongue from her brain. Which was for the best, considering what nonsense came out of her mouth whenever she did get it to function within ten feet of him.
“It’s great when it’s like this. I’m out here most days. If the weather’s good, I usually sail in the morning. In the afternoon, I work on my project house until about six, and then I get dinner somewhere and come back to the marina.”
She breathed deep and tried again. Just ask him a simple question. He’s a person, not a god who’s going to strike you dead if you say something dumb. “How did you get into sailing?”
“College. I took a class for fun and decided to find a way to do this as much as I could for the rest of my life.”
“Can I ask why you quit school, or is it a secret?” There you go asking intrusive questions. Maybe she should stick with awkward silence.
Marc didn’t seem bothered by it. He just reached over to refill her cup with strong coffee. “I was bored. All I wanted to know was how to run a business the laziest way possible. Now I kick myself for not finishing, because there is no lazy way to run a business. Even real estate, which is supposed to be passive income, isn’t very passive. Either it’s easy, or everything is broken and you’re fighting to get rid of a problem tenant.” He shrugged. “I should’ve paid attention in marketing class, but it was full of girls and I was twenty years old. The prof didn’t stand a chance.”
Alyssa felt a stab of sympathy for the instructor. She wouldn’t be surprised if Marc had singlehandedly brought the class grading curve down, not because he’d been such a terrible student, but because every student in the class with an eye for hot men would’ve been driven to distraction. “There’s lots of marketing information online.”
“Yeah, most of it hasn’t worked. My tenants only want to hear from me when they need something fixed. They don’t want a newsletter or emails. I don’t have much turnover, but when I do, I post an ad in the local paper and on Craigslist. I get a lot of shitty applicants—no job, no credit history, bad references, and even outright scams. If I had a better website or ads it might make the process easier.”
Well, now. This was a problem right in Alyssa’s wheelhouse. “I could help you.”
Marc shook his head. “You’re too arty. I’ll wind up with some abstract design, and no one’ll know I’m trying to rent out an apartment.”
“No, I’m not. Really! I used to have big notions about art, and I cringe to think about what I probably said to you the last time you talked to me. Which was, before yesterday, about six years ago?” Not that I’m counting. “But I work for an advertising agency, and I just got promoted to Lead Creative for Direct & Digital on a major client account. I can definitely help you.”
He cocked his head and squinted at her. “What does that mean?”
She sighed. Her title sounded much better when she didn’t have to explain its meaning. “I design junk mail and spam email for a living.”
Marc threw back his head and laughed. “No fucking way.”
Alyssa was so overjoyed that the conversation had shifted out of first gear, she didn’t mind a little humor at her expense. “I know. I went to college with all these big ideas and yet ninety-nine percent of the work I do lands in the trash, unopened.”
“Do you like advertising?” he asked skeptically.
Alyssa shrugged. “It pays okay. I work with a lot of talented people. If I could change one thing, though, it would be the hours. I’d love to have time to do something other than work, and more creative control.” She stretched her arms wide. “This feels like a dream.”
“It is when it’s like this. Some days I just want to sell the properties and get a job I can stop thinking about at five every day. The grass is always greener, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t take over your dad’s landscaping business?”
Marc laughed again. “No way. I grew up with dirt under my fingernails and getting up at the ass crack of dawn. Julian’s not taking over either, since he’s got his law practice. Dad will have to sell it when he’s ready to retire. My plan has been to build enough of an income stream to let me sail around the world for a few years. Once the project house’s permits are in place, I’ll turn it over to a contractor and head out.”
Alyssa gasped as a wave dipped the ship, grabbing Marc’s arm and the rail behind the banquette seat. The roll of her stomach had nothing to do with the movement of the water. What was wrong with her? She understood the rules of a hookup even if she’d never played the game. Check emotions at the door. Play a better version of yourself. Don’t overstay your welcome. Anticipate the end.
She was doing fine with rules two, three and four, but the first rule was proving problematic. Wanting him for so long had demolished her ability to keep any emotional distance. Marc’s fingers clutched her arm, steadying her, and Alyssa suppressed the instinct to lean over and kiss him.
“I ought to let my family know I’m still alive. I disappeared last night.”
She needed to go home and face up to the consequences of what she’d done, not tempting excuses to be alone with him.
“Oh, they know,” Marc replied, kissing her forehead as he pulled her into his arms. “My mom texted me this morning saying she was worried about you. I told her you’re with me. I’m sure they’re planning the wedding already.”
Alyssa buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh, fuck. This is going to be awkward.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He went quiet. “Listen, you said something yesterday about being here for the week. I’m not looking for a week.”
Alyssa’s heart sank. Great.
He might have another girl lined up already.
Marc kissed her temple. “Aly, I don’t want you thinking I do this with just anyone. I’d given that up ages ago.”
She nodded, though didn’t believe him any more than she believed in the Easter Bunny. His own mother had once commented that Marc treated girls like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Alyssa had seen plenty of women lining up to be brunch over the years, and she hadn’t even been around that often.
“Flattery will get you anywhere with me,” she replied flippantly, grinning. Marc was a genuinely considerate guy, the polar opposite of Zach. She hadn’t gotten to know him because she’d always been so intent on avoiding her hot neighbor.
Alyssa quit resisting her base instincts and kissed him in the sunshine as if they were the only two people in the world, her pale skin contrasting sharply with his dark tan. Probably ought to think about sunscreen, eventually.
His fingers threaded through her hair, setting it free to whip around her face. In response, Alyssa tugged his shirt over his head.
“No fair.” He responded by pulling up the shirt he’d loaned her. Alyssa shrugged it aside. He cupped her breasts with his big hands. Then he took one in his mouth and nibbled gently on the tip. Alyssa sighed and curved against him.
When he thumbed open the button on the shorts he’d loaned her, she slid off his lap and kicked them off. Marc had pulled off his shirt and quickly discarded the rest of his clothes before rolling on a condom.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised when she hesitated. Last night had been amazing, but she was feeling it today.
She nodded. Naked, Alyssa slid over him, her body extra-sensitive from the night before. Marc was as good as his word, moving slowly and focused on everything except where their bodies were joined. He let her set the pace. The more he teased and touched everything above her waist, the more her body could take. They found their pleasure with no audience but the sun, the sea, and the sky.
An hour later, Marc steered the sailboat into its slip at the marina. They held hands as they strolled to his truck. When she asked about it, he told her he’d caught a ride with his brother to his parents’ house the day before.
Alyssa fidgeted with the shirt hem sticking out from the seatbelt. The loaner clothes were as good as a billboard for what she’d been doing and who she’d been with. Yet there was no point in trading them for her wrinkled dress, since last night wasn’t exactly a secret. The knowledge didn’t help her shoulders stay straight or calm her pounding heart as Marc parked on the street between their driveways, as though staking out a space in the middle of their families.
He took her hand. “We’ll go in together. It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah, I know.” She squeezed his hand back. There was no reason for nerves. Yet she stepped out with an unshakable sense of foreboding.
A breeze coursed through the cab of the truck. Her dress fluttered like a captive butterfly on its hanger behind her. The screen door of her parents’ house opened.
Her eyes narrowed at the man-shape. In a flash her stomach iced over. No, it can’t be.
“What the fuck is this?” Zach exploded. The screen door jumped back on its hinges.
Alyssa cringed but stood her ground. “What are you doing here?”
“We were supposed to celebrate our engagement with your family this week, remember? I changed my ticket.”
“I…” Oh holy shit.
6
Alyssa’s better sense abruptly reasserted herself, and she was seriously pissed off. What had she been thinking, sleeping with another man less than a full day after her boyfriend had stood her up? Extreme.
“Who are you?” Marc snarled. His arm curled around her waist protectively. Her parents and her sister had filtered out of the house, and were watching this train wreck with blanched faces. Behind them, a door slapped closed from the direction of the De Lunas’ house.
“Zach Kessler. Alyssa’s fiancé.”
The lie sliced through her shock and freed her voice. “I never said I would marry you, Zach.”
“Yes, you did. I never had the chance to give you the ring, though. Two days ago, you were enraged when I was late for one dinner. I come all the way here to make peace, and what do I find? My girlfriend out with some other guy.”
Hot shame rushed through Alyssa. Maybe she’d overreacted. She’d been hurt and upset that he’d left her hanging with no word for hours, especially after pressuring her into agreeing to get engaged in the first place. That didn’t excuse going off with the first available guy, but she’d very definitively broken up with Zach, and he shouldn’t be here now. The collision of her real life with Zach and her fantasy escape with Marc forced angry words past the tight line of her lips.
“Zach, I told you I never wanted to see you again. What part was unclear to you?”
“No, you told me to send your stuff, but you didn’t say we were over.”
“I totally did! I said I never wanted to see you again!”
“But you didn’t mean it. I could tell. Don’t you think I know when you’re just angry, and when you really mean something?” He grinned. “I saw right through that. I know you were hurt. But we belong together, so I came all the way down here to get you.”
What must Marc and her family think? He’d twisted everything around until she looked like the guilty party.
You were drinking. Maybe she hadn’t been as clear as she’d thought.
Just like that, he had her questioning her own memories. He was so damn good at it, too. Zach stood there in his polo shirt and khaki shorts, a preppy stranger Alyssa never would’ve wanted to get to know, much less marry. Yet she didn’t know how to get rid of him.
“What are you doing here?” She poked a shaking finger at her former boyfriend, though she couldn’t bring herself to touch him.
“I figured the make-up sex would be great. Guess I won’t be the one to find out.” He shot Marc a glare. “Was it?”
“She wants you to go.” Marc jerked his head at the rental car parked in the driveway. “Go.”
Zach pulled out a car key. Slowly, he turned back, as if unable to resist getting the last word in. “Thought you had more class, Aly. Guess you had some fuck-the-gardener fantasy going on all this time.”
Pure, white-hot fury burned through her as she clapped a hand over her slack mouth. Marc closed the distance in a few steps and replied for her. One muscled arm forward and slammed into Zach’s jaw. His head snapped back and he went down hard, grass stains spreading over the ass of his new shorts as he rolled over. Blood and saliva streamed from Zach’s mouth as he pushed himself upright and came at Marc with raised fists.
A riot of pure testosterone erupted across the lawn. Zach landed a few good punches. Alyssa stood paralyzed in horror.
“Wait! Stop it, both of you.”
Alyssa’s heart nearly stopped as her sister planted herself between the bloodied, brawling men. What the hell was Janelle up to? A glint of amusement shone in her green eyes.
Whatever it was, it could not be good.
“There’s a better way to sort this out,” Janelle continued as both men stumbled back, breathing hard and one heartbeat away from hammering one another again.
“Janelle, don’t get involved.” Alyssa’s voice was harsh in her ears. In some grim sense, her sister was enjoying the spectacle. Betrayal knifed her.
“What do you have in mind?” Zach spat blood onto the lawn.
Her sister’s green eyes glittered. “A contest. Like The Bachelorette.”
“You watch too much TV, Janelle,” Alyssa interjected.
Janelle tossed her head. “At least I got them to quit pummeling one another. Hear me out. For the next six days, you’ll alternate dates with Zach and Marc. The winner gets to spend New Year’s Eve with you.”
Alyssa dropped her head into her fists and grabbed her hair. Could her love life careen off any more cliffs? First the engagement that didn’t happen, followed by her questionable judgment in i
mmediately sleeping with her neighbor, and now her sister’s harebrained idea. Adults didn’t do this crazy shit.
Zach and Marc were grown men. They wouldn’t go along with it. Especially not Marc. She snorted a humorless laugh. Like he was going to fight for her?
What if he does?
Alyssa ruthlessly silenced the little voice that had gotten her into so much trouble and turned to her Marc with crossed her arms, too furious to acknowledge Zach. Her racing heart picked up even more speed at the sight of his scraped knuckles and loose fists at his waist He was ready to jump back into pounding her ex bloody. She was not into Neanderthals. She wasn’t.
So why did Marc look hotter than ever?
“I’m in,” Marc declared, his brown eyes flinty.
Alyssa gaped. Her mouth formed words without sound. What the hell are you doing? Yet part of her was thrilled. The same reckless part of her that couldn’t think three seconds ahead and had barreled through yesterday like a teenager on a roller coaster ride. Her heart.
Marc fixed his attention on Zach. If he’d been a superhero, he would’ve obliterated her ex with a single hate-filled glare.
Zach touched his bloody lip, then checked the long red stains marring his plaid shirt and shorts. “No way you’re going to win, Garden Boy.”
Alyssa saw Marc’s jaw tighten as the taunt landed with a blow. “Neither are you, Zach. Nothing you could do over the next few days could win me back. Especially after what you said to my…neighbor.”
Though she and Marc were a little beyond chitchats over the fence now.
He’s only doing this because Zach’s acting like a complete asshole.
Marc had never had a girlfriend in his life, even if she wanted to hop from one serious relationship to another. Which she didn’t.
Despite a liquid red stripe trickling over his chin onto his shirt, Zach managed to radiate arrogance. “Watch me.”
“I do not agree to this!” Alyssa’s hands were balled in tight fists as though she could pummel sense into everyone. “You are all insane. Every. One.”