Page 28 of The Trouble with Flings

“Better than you can imagine,” I say softly. “Thank you. If I’d known a massage came with the surf lesson, I’d have requested one sooner.”

He applies sunscreen to the backs of my legs with the same careful measures. When he finishes, I’m as relaxed as a wet noodle, but when he lies beside me on the blanket, I have the strange urge to pamper him just as he’s pampered me.

“Your turn,” I say, getting up and kneeling beside him to return the favor.

“I didn’t put more sunscreen on your back so you’d do me.”

“Well, Mr. Silver, I like doing you,” I tease as I rub sunscreen on his broad back. His skin is hot, his muscles taut and defined.

He huffs out a laugh. “Lucky me.”

I press my fingers deeper, working the knots along his shoulders, and he winces. “Sorry. Is that too hard?”

“No. It feels good.”

“Why are you so knotted up?”

“A beautiful woman has her hands on me. The tension has to go somewhere,” he teases.

I’ve noticed he doesn’t talk about himself much. “Nice try. These aren’t those types of knots.”

He eyes me. “I honestly didn’t realize I was tense until you started pressing on those knots.”

“I guess running a resort takes a toll,” I say lightly, but my thoughts aren’t light at all. I’m curious about this sharp, attentive man and the things he faces every day. “What’s your job like?”

“Like wrangling cattle. How about yours?”

“The same.” I work my way down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles loosening, and his gratified sighs as I work them out. “You do that a lot, turning the conversation around when I ask about your life.”

“I don’t want to bore you,” he says as I drizzle sunscreen onto the backs of his legs.

I massage his hamstrings, spreading the sunscreen to his inner thighs, and feel him tense up. My body answers that reaction with a shiver of heat. “I highly doubt anything about you is boring.”

Before he can answer, his phone chimes with a text. “Saved by the bell.”

He reaches for his phone, smiling as he reads the text.

I cap the sunscreen and lie down beside him.

“It’s from Bellamy,” he says. “She’s giving me a hard time for not sending pictures.” Another text chimes. He reads it and turns the screen toward me to see.

Bellamy: This is why you should have taken me with you. I could have gotten great pics to post on the resort social pages and mine, showing the ultimate work-life balance.

As I read it, a third text rolls in.

Bellamy: That would be a win for the resort, showing you doing professional development and enjoying nights out.

“She’s not wrong,” I say.

“When it comes to social media, she never is, and she knows it.” He thumbs out a quick text and places his phone face down on the blanket.

“You should have brought her.” I turn onto my stomach, fold my arms, and rest my cheek on them. “Although she might have something to say about your conference attendance.”

“She’d be cheering me on. She’s always trying to get me to spend more time socializing. I love my sister, but her career is very different from mine. I have a lot of people relying on me.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling a little guilty that he’s taken the day off. “Is skipping the conference today going to cause problems for you?”

“I don’t care if it does. My life is spent looking after everyone else’s paradise. I’d much rather be here with you, relaxing in the sun and watching you conquer waves.”