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I rub the back of my neck, attempting to dissipate the tension gathering there. Why do people enjoy so much reading about other’s misery?
“I’ll make you a deal. I will buy all those magazines. When you get the delivery, sort out all publications featuring Alex and Amy, and bring them straight to my room.”
I used this exact tactic once before, after Pippa filed for divorce from the asshole that was her first husband. Alice and I took her to a spa retreat. I went to the hotel’s shop to buy sunscreen, and I saw my sister’s name in a gossip magazine. I bought every single copy.
The blonde stares at me. “We get about fifty copies of each. That’s a lot of—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll pay up front if you want. Just bring them straight to my room. If anyone asks—your boss or the resort customers—just say they sold out. Start by giving me all the copies you have right now.”
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, glancing at the stack of magazines before nodding. “I suppose it’s fair game. You’re buying them, after all.”
“Great. Can you take them to my room? I need to be at the reception.”
“Sure thing. I’ll just put a sign on the door that I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Thank you.”
After paying, I leave the shop with a pep in my step. The hotel guests could always go out and buy magazines, but the resort is all-inclusive, so most people don’t have a reason to go outside. I’m banking on their laziness trumping their thirst for scandal.
***
Over the next two days, I keep a close eye on the guests’ reading material, but Alex’s name or face doesn’t stare back at me from any cover. So far, it seems my bet is paying off. Word spreads that he’s in the resort though, and he signs so many autographs that I’m surprised his arm doesn’t fall off.
The camp schedule is a little frantic for the kids, what with the Spanish lessons in the morning and all the activities in the afternoon. I, on the other hand, am a woman of leisure. I teach painting for a few hours. Other than that, I fill my time with lying in the sun... and spying on Alex’s classes. It was completely unintentional on day one. I was sitting in the sun when the sound of his voice caught my attention. He brought the youngest group to the corner of the waterfront I’ve asked the hotel to reserve exclusively for our group.
Midway through his demonstration of a stunt, which included some fight moves and throwing himself on the grass, he took his shirt off. All that taut skin on display made me break out in a sweat... and also swear, because I wasn’t close enough to see him properly.
I solve this issue the next day, placing my sunbed strategically closer to their practice spot. I turn my sunbed at a perfect angle. One could easily assume I chose the angle to see the sunset better. I also have a book with me, and I can peek from behind it without it being too obvious. Even though the end of June at Lake Tahoe isn’t exactly hot, I’m still determined to soak in as much sun as possible. The view is absolutely gorgeous. Perfect blue water surrounded by mountain peaks and a clear sky. If I could marry Lake Tahoe, I would.
When Alex arrives, with the kids in tow, I sit up a little higher in my sunbed. A few short minutes later, he pauses his stunt performance and takes off his shirt again.
Holy Pop-Tarts and cupcakes. I’ve seen him shirtless on magazine covers and in his movies, but nothing beats seeing him live. All those lean, defined muscles. I don’t know where to look first. His chiseled abs or those fan-tab-ulous biceps. This would be an excellent moment for him to ask for my assistance. I don’t even care what I’d have to do. Plus points if it involves skin-on-skin contact.
How would those strong arms feel around me? Pulling me to him, so I could feel every inch of that incredible chest. The longer I look, the more surreal his body seems. I mean, I knew he had a rigorous training regimen for his superhero role, but I assumed he laid it off in his free time. Evidently not.
“Summer, do you have anything to drink? I just finished my water bottle,” Alex calls.
His voice snaps me out of my daydream. Good God, did he see me looking? Even though I’m wearing sunglasses, I lower my gaze to the grass, willing my thoughts to scramble in their place.
“Ice-cold lemonade.”
He strides toward me, and while he downs a gulp, my phone, which lies face up next to my thigh on the sunbed, lights up... with a notification from SoulDates, the infamous dating app. I scramble to hide it, but only manage to draw Alex’s attention to the phone.
“You’re on SoulDates?” he asks incredulously.
“A work colleague signed me up. Swore it can’t get worse than my dating history, and she had a point. I sure have enough bad experiences: mommy’s boy, daddy’s boy, the cheater, the egomaniac, the one who doesn’t want a relationship, the one who does want a relationship, but then bolts because I require too much attention. The list goes on.”
He sets the glass on the small table next to my sunbed, lowering himself on his haunches. His jaw ticks, like what I said makes him mad, but he doesn’t say anything. I slip right into crazy-defensive mode.
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging.”
“Oh yeah? Then what’s that clenched jaw about, huh? And the narrowed eyes?”
“I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt. You really think you’ll find...” He seems to be weighing his words carefully. Meanwhile, I’m melting a bit at the idea of being important enough to him that he worries about me. “You really think SoulDates is the way to go?”
I deflate. “No. I only let her install it because she was nagging. I was thinking about deleting it.”
