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A lightness washes over me. Avery’s right. I should live my life while I can.
There’s no telling what will happen, when I’ll have unexpected responsibilities pop up, or whether I’ll wake up one day to discover I’ve become a withered old hag, working my fingers to the bone, and I’ve let my life pass me by.
With my arms wide, I spin, carefree, then throw myself onto the bed, face first. If this is how the upper-class lives, I’ll have to take tips from Mom on how to snag a rich guy.
In the meantime, after lounging, I get dressed and head to my comfort place, the kitchen, where I do what I do best—bake.
With the cake pops prepared, I return to the room.
Craving the luxurious feel of the robe on my body again, I strip down and put it on. That’s all I need until it’s time to get ready for the wedding.
When I step onto my balcony, I realize the breeze has picked up. My wet shirt has been whipped around and barely hangs onto the drying rack. My leggings have tangled on the dowels. My white socks and red bra have blown around the wooden posts of the balcony railing. Close call. I snatch them up.
A quick inventory… Uh oh! My bright red panties are nowhere to be seen.
Shit. I check inside the hot tub, scan the room…nothing. Rushing to the rail, I lean over. In a heartbeat, against the white wooden deck and brown-and-green dune grasses, the splash of bright red fabric takes no time to recognize.
My panties have blown onto someone’s first-floor balcony. Once I quell the panic, I take it as good news. My panties are caught on the corner post. I should be able to approach from the beach, reach through the plants that offer a bit of privacy along the balcony’s edge, and reclaim the escapees.
Grabbing my keycard as I rush through the room, I’m out the door in a flash.
Four
Stonewall
With only an hour before the wedding, Commando, Taz, Dad, and I have the driver take us from the cliff overlooking the ocean back to our rooms.
Grandma made it widely known she wanted her ashes scattered in the mountains, mingled with the majestic beauty. But with Dad’s unexpected wedding, he decided we’d bring a portion of her ashes to the island and spread the remainder of them from the cliff overlooking the ocean to honor her younger days when she spent all of her free time on the beach.
A weight is lifted from my shoulders that we’ve finally finished toting Grandma around in an urn and sprinkling her ashes. I just want to be done.
Her death hit me hard. All the lives I’ve taken in my military days—those people had loved ones too. Thinking like that is dangerous. I shift my thoughts to when we were younger and she was always there for us. Not being able to make it back in time to say goodbye shook me.
We’re here for Dad though, so that’s good. Though none of us ever thought a wedding would get thrown into the mix. Everything that’s happening right now casts shadows on the already dark part of my soul. Are all of our missions blotting out the positives in life and dragging me down?
It only takes a few minutes to throw my board shorts on. And even though my hair’s longer than the typical military cut, since we were running undercover ops, it doesn’t take much to run my fingers through it and get it back in place. We’re going to be standing on a windy beach anyway.
Embracing the time I have left to relax, I step on to the wooden deck outside of my room. Something bright red catches my attention. With each inch I move closer, I absorb another detail. The fabric is silky. It has a lacy edge. It’s lightweight. And when I lift the small piece of fabric, the shape becomes undeniable.
I’m holding somebody’s panties. If I’d met someone, I might consider this an invitation. But no, I’ve been with my dad, brothers, and dead grandma’s ashes.
I glance around, finding no one, then reel my hopes in. My brothers are probably pranking me, trying to get me to break free from my nickname for once.
Clinging to the hint of fun the panties offer, fully knowing I won’t do anything about it, I shove them in my pocket and watch the waves.
I’m scanning the beach, watching a few surfers, when I catch sight of a woman in white walking down the beach, but not by the water. Up by the dunes. Her dark hair trails behind her inthe breeze. Her path is oddly close to the decks. Does she not understand privacy?
Or… My dick gets hard. Is she the owner of the panties in my pocket?
She’s scanning the dunes, so I duck into the room, wanting to observe her for a moment longer. I’m pretty sure the resort’s robes are meant for indoor use. But hey, I gotta give it to her. Be yourself.
It’s something I don’t have much experience with since I joined the military when I was twenty years old. I barely stepped out of my family’s shadow when I took on a military family. My brothers joined at the same time.
The dark-haired beauty shifts her attention from the dunes to the top floor, points, and appears to be counting rooms. The wind picks up and catches the edge of her robe, throwing it open, exposing one long leg, with a sinful tuft of hair covering her pussy.
She isn’t wearing panties. My heart quickens. Could she be the owner of the bright red silk? The odds were slim when I originally had the thought, but they just improved dramatically.
In a nonchalant move, she grabs the edge of her robe and holds it closed.
