“You okay?”
Tori chewed. Mmm. That was better. She finished that bite, then swallowed. “Pour me some coffee and I will be,” she finally said. “And then let’s discuss what we should do today. Project Rebound, Day Two. Start at the pool?”
* * *
He’d done this to himself.
And she looked amazing.
More to the point, she felt amazing, and it showed.
But as Logan watched Tori wiggle her hips toward him on her way back to the pool from the bar—her third trip—he wondered if it would have been easier to just castrate himself.
Because the curve of her thighs disappearing under that little bikini skirt, and the slight jiggle of her belly above it, was enough to make a man stupid.
Logan wasn’t alone in noticing, either. She’d made friends on her way to the bar the first time. Lingered for a few laughs on the return trip.
And each time, she eventually returned to his side, stretched out on her lounge chair, and made a happy sound that make it all worth it. The sharp, irrational spike of jealousy, the half-chubby in his shorts, the relentless itch in his fingertips to explore the shadows beneath that skirt… It was all secondary to her having a day of feeling gorgeous and desirable.
“Bière for you,” she said, holding out a cold bottle. “Et c’est moi.”
Her French was terrible. And adorable. “Thanks.”
“Ah, mais non, mister. Merci.”
Mister. He chuckled. “Merci.”
She beamed as she sat down, then took a sip of her own beer before reaching for the sunscreen. “What next?”
He was going to watch her apply cream to her skin like a perv. “Whatever you want.”
Her fingers slicked down her calves, curved around her ankles, then pulled back up her legs. His gaze followed to mid-thigh, then jerked back to her face. She was looking across the pool, oblivious to his observation. “Mmm…” She moved the sunscreen application to her arms. “Let’s go into town. Find amazing souvenirs. And would it be crass to want to post some pictures online that show that I’m having the time of my life? Too soon?”
“Not too soon.” If he hadn’t left his phone in the room, he’d take her picture right now. Glowing, happy, and sexy too. “Be happy, Tor. Don’t worry what anyone thinks.”
“I won’t.” A shadow crossed her face, but she jutted her jaw forward and shook it off. “One more swim before we go shopping?”
She stood and dove into the pool. He followed, matching her pace, and they hit the far wall at the same time.
If she wanted a race, he’d give her one. He’d give her anything she wanted in the world.
Which meant, after they sprinted back to their lounge chairs, they walked the long way back to their villa so they could say hi to the groundskeeper with the parrot on his shoulder. Then they got changed and drove into town. Tori pulled out a Frommers’ Guide to Miralinda.
It looked like one of her textbooks. Well thumbed and carefully tagged with Post-It notes.
“Souvenirs first, then I want to try…” She flipped to a page marked by a pink sticker. “Beignets. Apparently Miralinda has the best outside of New Orleans.”
“There’s our mission, then.”
“There’s public parking just before we hit downtown,” she said, navigating from the map at the front of her book. “On the right.”
He found it easily. Petite Ciotat wasn’t big at all. But it was bustling, especially as they headed for a market Tori knew about, on a side street. There was enough French and Spanish being spoken that it wasn’t all American tourists, either.
And the wares sold seemed unique to the island as well. They struck up a conversation with an American ex-pat selling handmade soap and beauty products. Tori bought gift packs for both of her sisters, and took the woman’s card. At the next table, they found a small painting for her father, and then two tables further still, they came across beautiful island jewelry.
Tori’s eyes lit up.
Done, Logan thought. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she deserved something new and shiny and just for her.
