Page 6 of Spring Break Fling

Her glare softened into suspicion. “Why would you buy me a drink?”

“Because you’re funny,” I said, flashing her my best grin. “And I like your…” I let my gaze linger just long enough to make her blush. “Energy.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine. Vodka soda. For me and my friends. Four of them. You buy one, you buy four. Or you could just get your buddy’s attention and let me buy the drinks myself.”

“Coming right up,” I said, waving Marco over.

When the drinks arrived, I handed her one and raised my own. “Cheers. To…”

“Not being ignored at bars?” she offered, clinking her glass against mine.

“Perfect.”

She sipped her drink, her lips wrapping around the straw in a way that was… distracting. Plump lips with a faint shade of red that looked good on her. It complemented her pale skin rather than making her look like a clown. Fair skin was a rarity around here.

My eyes roamed over the total package. A little too much makeup but not nearly as much as some of the other women in the club. Her blonde hair looked like silk hanging around her bare shoulders. But it was the eyes that got me. The perfect shade of blue. Mine were an icy shade while hers were rich and the darkest blue I had ever seen on a woman. Maybe it was the lighting. I didn’t know why and I didn’t care.

Target acquired.

“Not from around here, are you?” I asked.

“What gave it away, Sherlock?” she asked, her tone dry.

“You’re white as a ghost. And the fact that you were too polite to shove me out of the way.”

She smirked. “I’m from Idaho. It’s still winter there. I go from ghost-white to ivory. At least that’s what my foundation tone tells me.”

I laughed. “Idaho, huh? What’s an Idaho girl doing in Miami?”

“Girls’ trip,” she said. “Making up for lost time.”

I nodded. “Good place for it.”

Before she could reply, one of her friends swooped in, giggling and grabbing her by the arm. “Hannah! Come on, we’re dancing!”

So her name was Hannah. Cute.

“Sorry,” Hannah said, turning back to me. “I⁠—”

Her friend, apparently not one for apologies, shoved her into me. She stumbled, her drink sloshing onto my shirt. I caught her by the waist before she could fall, and her body pressed against mine.

That’s the kind of softness I’m talking about.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, trying to pull away. But I wasn’t ready to let go.

I slid my hand down to her hip. Again, I was met with a handful of curves that felt right. Her face, inches from mine, was flushed with embarrassment or maybe the heat of our sudden closeness.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, my voice lower than I intended. “It’s just a shirt.”

Hannah looked up at me, her dark blue eyes wide, searching my face as if trying to figure out if I was just being nice or genuinely okay with the drenched fabric sticking to my skin. “I really am sorry,” she repeated, her voice soft and sincere.

“Consider it an ice breaker,” I said with a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood.

“You two kids have fun!” her friend said with a bubbly laugh before she rushed away.

“Oh my God,” Hannah groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries. But you need a new drink now.”