“Sure, Mom.” I lean down to dig through our beach bag for a room key to use as payment while she settles back into her chair.
“If I fall asleep again, wake me in thirty minutes to flip over.” Mom speaks to no one in particular before her eyes close behind her thick tortoiseshell sunglasses.
I walk around the pool, my feet heating on the tile surface without my flip-flops to protect them. The tiki-influenced bar features a brown palm leaf thatched roof with bamboo stools around a half circle wooden bar. Three round double person tables sit under the thick leafed canopy blocking only a few meager rays of sun, but adding to the island atmosphere.
Bypassing the tables, I slip onto one of the bamboo stools and wait for the bartender to make his way in my direction. The area is mostly empty at noon, and it doesn’t take me long to order our three beverages. I’m sure to pick a girly drink as well so my sister has a greater chance of her damn pink umbrella she’s so desperate for.
A slow breeze kicks up and ruffles the leafed roof above me and the smell of steak and garlic follows. My thoughts move to lunch and how much food I’ll put away on this all-inclusive vacation. I may not go home with a man, but if the amount of bacon I’ve consumed at breakfast is any indicator, I’ll carry an extra five pounds of me on the plane.
The stool to my left is pulled back, and the legs scrape on the tile, breaking my bacon-smothered daydream. I take a quick peek at my new companion and forcibly stop my grimace by placing a hand over my mouth.
“Beautiful day today in paradise, huh?” The were-doctor leans toward me as he uses his cheesy line. One of his black hairy legs brushes against mine and imaginary spiders crawl up my leg from the contact.
Thankfully, the first lesson from my job as an executive assistant was how to feign dumb when someone tries to hit on you. I’ve deflected more advances from hairy old men than the Empire State Building has floors.
Without facing him, I turn back to the bar front and watch the bartender make our drinks. “It is.” I cast my head to the other side to avoid eye contact with the were-doctor.
“What’s your drink? Let me pick it up for you,” he continues. A persistent fellow.
I steel myself with casual indifference, an image my boss made me practice for hours, and turn to address him. “No, thank you. I’ve already paid.” Against my will my eyes fall from his face to the top of his shoulders where pieces of hair flap as the breeze picks up. Is it still called chest hair when it’s growing on the top of your shoulder?
I consider abandoning the drinks in favor of a quick escape, but as I’m about to leave, my salvation comes disguised as the tan dark-haired bartender. He places all three drinks in front of me, one pink umbrella balanced on the side of a cup, and I sign the receipt quickly with a five-dollar tip to thank him for the timely rescue.
With a plastic cup in each palm, I balance the third between the remaining fingers of both hands, creating a triangle of glasses. The seat swivels to the right and I bend my arms to help support my body as I jump off the stool only to come up short. My elbow’s met with resistance followed by a grunt. The liquid from all three cups splashes into one another and on the top of my thigh before it runs down my leg. Oh shit.
A big thick, warm hand grips my knee as a guy in nothing but green swim trunks bends over at the waist, his head almost in my lap. He uses my knee to keep himself up while the other arm is tightly wrapped around his hips. He doesn’t speak, but his breath releases harshly with each exhale.
Even though I’ve absolutely just elbowed this man in the balls and should feel badly, my eyes roam over his smooth back. His shoulders are thick with muscles that continue down to his arms to form the perfect bicep. His skin is dark, but in a natural way not as if he’s tanned well on vacation. The back of his head is full of wet black hair with a slight curl, which hasn’t dried from a recent shower or dip in the pool. He must have been at the pool behind ours because there’s no way I — or my mother — would have missed this had he been within fifty feet of us.
Time snaps back to me as the stranger starts to right himself. Not wanting to be caught with my mouth hanging open, I turn in my seat to place the drinks back on the bar. My fingers are sticky from the spill, but I place one palm on his back for a moment before he rights himself.
“Oh my god. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” I ramble my apology with rapid words.
His head rises with his body until his dark brown eyes rest on mine. He’s gorgeous. Why the hell couldn’t I elbow the were-doctor? Why was it the cutest guy I’ve seen all week? His tan skin is highlighted by a short beard, almost over grown stubble, but it’s trimmed to the perfect lust-inducing length and shape. His thicker eyebrows and straight nose help me peg him as Greek or Italian. In all my future fantasies of this moment, he’ll speak Italian and whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
Flustered by my reaction to him, I almost forget I elbowed the poor guy in the junk. I bet his memories from today will be much different than mine. The grim thought forces my smile to fall and our faces match when I look up again. I need to get out of here.
“I’m so sorry, again. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Although he’s no longer using me to keep himself standing, his hand still rests on my knee almost hovering above. His body still blocks my escape.
“No, it’s okay.” He smirks and his head moves to look at where his hand is still on my knee. “There’s more than one person out there who would tell you I deserve it. They’d probably applaud you.”
It’s noon, in August, in the Bahamas, but my body temperature spikes from the sound of his deep voice. My face heats and I hope he thinks it’s from embarrassment not the hormones he’s produced in me.
“Can I buy you new drinks? You’re wearing half of yours.”
I follow his eyes to the three cups on the bar and notice they’re lower in liquid by about a third each. Alcohol isn’t included in our all-inclusive package and gets pricey, but I don’t feel right about the guy replacing them when I almost neutered him.
“Oh no.” I grab all three glasses in the same hold as before and try to stand from my stool, but again he doesn’t take the hint and step back. “Excuse me.”
My words are soft, but his chest tightens as I speak them. “Right. Well, enjoy the rest of your vacation.” He crosses his arms, disrupting my view of his muscled torso, and steps away from my stool no longer hampering my cowardly retreat.
