Page 19 of Parentmoon

Katherine once told me, she’s in love with love. Weddings are her thing; marriage is not. Her opinion is one reason she wanted so much control over Keli’s preparations. If I didn’t trust Keli, I’d worry marriage wasn’t for her, just like her mother.

Something tells me there was a different reason Michael and Keli called off their wedding.

“Do you think it was a mutual agreement?” I blurt. “For the kids. Do you think they equally decided to end things?”

Dallas turns his face away from me and closes his eyes again. His broad shoulders shift on the cushion, rolling as if he’s trying to get comfortable. “I think it’s their business. We need to let them work it out. Or work through whatever happened.”

“You’re very laissez-faire about it.” I sip my drink again.

“It’s not my place to intervene. They’re both adults.”

I stare at Dallas, wishing I could read his thoughts. “Michael admires you, you know.”

His eyes open once more, and he gives me his full attention again. “I respect the hell out of him. He’s a good man, like I told you before. I suspect that has a lot to do with how you raised him, darlin’.”

“Now, you’re just trying to flatter me.” Sipping from my drink once more, I’m sucking it down a little too quickly.

The corner of Dallas’s lip curls upward while his gaze falls to my lips wrapped around the straw. “Would it get me anywhere?”

He’s such a tease.

“Where would you like it to get you?” My gaze holds on him while my mouth dries despite the alcohol refresher. This rum punch is really going to my head. Or is that the Dallas-effect? When was the last time a man looked at me with as much intention as he is? Where would he take me? I can think of a few things I’d like to do to him.

Suddenly, a shadow overcomes my opposite side.

“Hey there, beautiful.” The masculine voice has me turning in its direction.

“Hi Artie. How was scuba-diving?”

Without inviting him to sit, Artie takes the lounger on my right and begins a dissertation on his dive and the reef. I’m only half-listening while he drones on and on about himself again, and then starts comparing his dive to ones he’s taken in various locations, dropping country names like tacks on a map. Maybe to another woman he’d sound worldly and impressive, but Artie is simply grandstanding.

I can’t get a word in to introduce him to Dallas, whose eyes are boring into the side of my head. Eventually, he clears his throat. “I think I’ll find out where that beer is.” He abruptly stands and straightens the towel around his waist.

I watch as Dallas walks away, admiring the view of his backside like I’ve done a few too many times already on this trip.

“I wasn’t interrupting, right? You mentioned this morning you two are friends on a vacation mix-up.”

As I still wasn’t comfortable sharing all the details behind the connection between Dallas and me, I’d given Artie this explanation at breakfast. “Yes. Friends.” The fib chokes me before I speak honestly. “Strictly platonic.”

Artie smiles at my clarification.

My gut sours as the truth settles in. Despite all his flirty attention, a man like Dallas Cole would never be interested in more than being friends with me.

+ + +

When Dallas doesn’t return to save me from the monologue by Artie, I eventually excuse myself to cleanup for dinner. Although I’m still afraid of the shower stall, and ready to burn some sage in there, or whatever will keep away lizards, I’ve been in the sun all day and need to refresh myself.

Artie might have interrupted my moment with Dallas, but he didn’t distract me from the soft buzz between my legs caused by the vision of Dallas in a swimsuit.

And Dallas in a pool towel.

And Dallas in fishing pants.

And Dallas in loose linen slacks.

Dallas, Dallas, Dallas. My hand is on my clit as I stand beneath the spray in the bizarre shower. I imagine Dallas coming up to the block glass exterior, attempting to stare through the thick inches of blurry glass, and watching me. Watching me touch myself as I think of him.

Dallas, Dallas, Dallas. His name is like a teasing lick against a tender spot. Breathless and heaving, I come so hard I catch myself on one of the glass panels. My clit continues to pulse. The hum coursing through my body hints at the potential for another release. Instead, I press my body to the cool glass while the space around me fills with steam.