Page 7 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Sniffling, I face him. “I wanted you to have a relationship. He tries to be a good dad.”

“He’s a terrible dad, and I’m only here because it’s a free trip to Miami Beach during spring break.” Dex wipes my tears.

I perk up.

“You used Dad for a ticket to a beach party?” I grin, hopeful.

I’ve been waiting for Dex to break out of his rigid shell and be a little rebellious. He’s always been a levelheaded old soul.

“Better.” He beams. “I have tickets to the food and wine festival.”

“Really?” My face scrunches. “Instead of beach parties, underage drinking, and safe sex? Don’t you want to try some drugs or something? Do teenager things?” Realizing what I just said, I quickly clarify our inappropriate ongoing joke. “I mean, but no zombie drugs, okay? They make you eat people’s faces. It’s disgusting.”

Dexter laughs. “Look at you, trying to be a good mom. I’m so proud of you.” He strokes my forehead. “You want a snack? I’ve got homemade fruit roll-ups in my backpack.”

5/

jeanie

Chip Clips Save The Day

Dex gives me a pep talk and kicks me out of the Beefmobile. Feeling lost, I wander the resort, still wearing the striped towel as a coverup.

I pass several people wearing unicorn masks similar to the one I found in my room. I’m about to ask someone about it, thinking it will help me rebuild memories of the previous night, but I become distracted by the sight of the hotel beach shop. My need for substantial clothing and deodorant supersedes all investigations or additional mental breakdowns.

With two sundresses draped over my arm, I sift through the swimsuits. One of these overpriced options will need to function as underwear until I can buy some. I remove a pink bikini from the rack that’s identical to Sophia’s. Six Dorito-sized triangles and a spiderweb of string make up the design. My head tilts as I puzzle out each triangle’s purpose.

“Rethinking topless sunbathing?” a husky voice asks.

My humiliation returns at the question. Slowly, I turn and find Mr. Motivational and his beaming whitening-strip smile.

“That was a one-time, unplanned showing.” I release a nervous laugh.

“I promise, I didn’t see anything,” he lies and holds up his palms.

“Either way, thanks for being a gentleman—mostly.” He seemed to avert his eyes in the elevator, after all, once he picked up his jaw.

“Do you typically stroll around a hotel in nothing but a towel and assless milkshake panties?” He gestures to my outfit.

I take a deep breath and narrow my gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Nathan Wolf.”

I surmise he’s more cub than wolf, probably in his late twenties. Thirty, max.

He leans on a nearby rack like he’s waiting for a boobalicious encore. Unfortunately for him, I found a few rogue chip clips in the Beefmobile’s kitchenette. Right now, they’re doing God’s work by keeping my towel secure.

Sorry to disappoint, but my T and A are on lockdown.

“Tell me, Nathan, have you ever woken up in a city thirteen hundred miles from where you live, sporting nothing but questionable milkshake panties with a strangely handsome blow-up doll as your only companion?” My serious expression suggests this is not a joke, and it’s only a snippet of the hot mess I find myself in.

When he tosses his head back with delicious raspy laughter, I can’t help but admire the way his dark scruff highlights his jawline and how his defined Adam’s apple bobs.

“I can’t say I have, but I’d love to know how that happens.” He grins, and a narrow scar one might mistake as a dimple slices his cheek. The imperfection is rugged and feels a little dangerous.

“As soon as I remember the details, I’ll let you know.” I tap my head before returning to shopping.

“Since I know you a little better, I think you should go with that one.” Nathan steps over to a rack of swimwear, singling out a surprisingly modest two-piece with bright yellow tropical flowers. “It’ll match your personality.”