Page 17 of Parentmoon

After breakfast, I take a long walk down the beach and then spend the day by the main pool, central in location to the resort. The bar is behind me and the ocean before me, with a clear view of the dock, now empty of fishing boats. The afternoon is pleasantly heating into the eighties, while back home is a balmy thirty-two degrees. Soaking up the warmth, I doze and daydream, but I’m restless.

The solitude is deafening.

When I was a stay-at-home mother, I couldn’t wait to send Michael to school. I needed the time to study for my own classes. Then I worked the nightshift during his middle school years, so I wouldn’t miss out on days with him. By the time he went to college, I was happy to have the house to myself . . . for a bit. The years of craving alone-time quickly faded. Without him present, I was lonely. My life was a cycle of work, sleep, repeat.

Now, a niggling sensation crept beneath my skin. A yearning for something more.

Wedding planning had been a nice distraction, but I made myself a promise that once the festivities were over, I was taking a life-evaluation-cation. Part of my parentmoon was intended for self-reflection.

Who am I? What did I want?

The strongest answer was I didn’t want to be alone.

I’ve always believed in soulmates. And I was thrilled when Michael found his. Keli is his other half.

As for mine, well, he was still out there somewhere.

By late afternoon, those who had gone fishing returned. The sunshine has had its effect on many of them, resulting in burnt noses and sun-scorched cheeks with pale patches around their eyes from wearing sunglasses.

Dallas struts down the dock, laughter flitting from him as he walks beside a fishing guide. He pats the man on the back before stepping onto the sand. His bag casually dangles off his shoulder while he carries a long fishing pole in his other hand. As he nears the pool, his head hangs but he suddenly looks up and catches me watching him. With a slow curl of his lips, he tips up his chin in silent greeting.

After placing his rod in a designated holder, he detours to the pool. “Hey darlin’. How was your day?”

Sitting upright, I tuck my bent knees toward my chest and rub my hands down my bare shins. I shouldn’t feel self-conscious as Dallas has briefly seen me naked, but I still suck in my belly covered by a one-piece yellow bathing suit with tiny black polka dots on it.

“Great, actually.” It’s not a complete lie. “How was yours?”

Dallas folds down to the lounge chair beside me. His gaze stays on my face. “Gonna need more than that. What did you do today?”

My brows pinch. Is he questioning me because of what I said last night? He doesn’t really want to hear about my day, right? Only, his head remains turned in my direction, anticipation written in his sun-kissed face. His eyes eager for details.

“I ate breakfast, took a walk, laid in the sun, and now I’m considering a drink.”

“No lizards today?” He tweaks one brow as his smirk curls into a grin, like we share a private joke.

“Not a reptile in sight.” Lazily, I smile in return to his infectious one

Dallas chuckles. “I’ll get you a drink. Then I’m gonna put on my swimsuit and be back.”

My mouth waters with a new kind of thirst. The idea of Dallas in a bathing suit, bare chested and on display, has all my girly parts overheating.

He rises and then heads to the bar. I can’t seem to take my eyes off him, puzzled by his attention. He returns with something pink and topped with fruit. “Be back. Save my seat.” He winks.

When he steps away, my eyes are drawn to his retreating backside once more. Why the sudden flirtations? Dallas hardly said more than fifty words to me over the past eleven months but he’s all smiles, winks, and dimpled cheeks today.

The man is a mystery.

Sipping my rum punch, the delicious tropical flavor washing down my throat has me humming or maybe it’s the view of Dallas walking away again.

His ass really is a fine specimen.

+ + +

Despite the no-diving warnings, Dallas plunges into the pool like an Olympian. Fluidly, he flies through the air before slicing the surface and gracefully gliding beneath the water. When he springs upright, his body glistens like an aquatic god.

I want to lick every droplet off him.

Instead, I sip my drink down to the last hint of rum, obnoxiously sucking at the emptiness in the glass as if more tropical goodness will magically appear.