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I consider her for a second. “Guess that’s why big bro got married and ran as far away from here as he could. Didn’t want to get worn away like the sand.”
Now it’s my mom’s turn to roll her eyes. “That spoiled brat wife of his, I swear. I love Brett, I do, but that wife of his is just the worst.” She gazes at me over her shoulder. “Please make up with Adrian. There’s only so many of us left on this island, and we can’t all hate each other.”
After a glance at my pastry-scarfing little bro Skip—who really isn’t so little anymore at seventeen years old, I should remind myself—I come up to my mom and give her a hug. “I’ll never hate you, Mom.”
She smiles, pats me on the back, then takes her pot of sizzling mysteriousness and pitches its contents into the sink, startling me. “Skipper, grab a twenty out of my purse and get us a box of spicy wings from Desert Moon down the street. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
Chapter 5 - Jonah
The sweet-faced host at the front in an adorable black bowtie and vest who took us to our table …
The handsomely dressed bar staff walking around and ensuring everyone’s glasses are topped off …
The busboys who come out to clean off the tables, in their cute tight pants and adorable aprons …
“The hotness never ends!” squeals Rico after a sip of his water. I’m pretty sure his eyes haven’t blinked since we stepped foot in here. “Seriously, do you just want to pick a couple of the waiters, take them back to our room, and just have some fun? I’m sure we’ve got time.”
Of course I notice all the hotness around us, too, and there’s nothing quite like a man in uniform. But Rico’s idea of a good time involves more stickiness, lubrication, and no-strings goodbyes than I prefer.
Despite how enticing his notion might be in another state of mind, I can’t help where my thoughts currently reside. Walking into Thalassa, the two of us had to pass a certain Blue Coral Bakery where the intoxicating aroma of funnel cake played a game of hard-to-get with my nostrils. The Kent guy wasn’t working. It was some other dude who had a long line. Still, when we walked by, my brain twisted up like a dishrag, and I haven’t felt an ounce of relief since we were seated at our table.
“Jonah? Hello?”
Better snap out of it. “You are more than welcome to do all of that,” I belatedly reply, “but if you do, I’ll just return to that pretty cabana by the pool with my book until you’re ready for the bonfire.”
“You’re no fun.” Despite that, the inspiration still lives brightly in his eyes as he takes another sip of water—and a sip from the hot sights around us. He finished his salad a while ago. I’m still working on my steak. “Y’know what? Maybe I’ll just come back here after the bonfire and catch one of these cuties closing up.”
I notice his eyes lingering on someone in particular: a server who isn’t ours, but who keeps passing by on his way to and from his section. Total meathead, muscles bulging out of his tight dress shirt from his wide pecs to his thick arms, blond hair so perfectly styled he looks made of wax, and a sun-kissed rosy face that is painfully handsome and convinces you instantly that he’s been on the cover of some fitness magazine. He has a commanding air of importance about him, cluing me into the fact that he is likely quite aware of how attractive he is.
And Rico is all about that sauce. “Yeah,” I say as I continue observing my friend’s ogling. “I see who you really want to take back to the hotel with you.”
“Is it obvious?” Rico titters, takes another sip, then lets his eyes drag down the server’s shape as he passes by once again on his way back to the kitchen. “God … damn … those buns.”
I cut off another bite of my steak. It’s damned good, by the way. It feels like robbery to use these vouchers for a meal of this caliber. “Go work your magic. Get yourself a date to the bonfire. I’m sure he’s going.”
Rico smirks. “Don’t gotta ask me twice.”
As he continues to not eat anything else, and as I continue to devour my steak like no tomorrow, I can’t help but wonder if … a certain someone else will be at the bonfire tonight. I mean, it’s a fairly obvious assumption that most of the locals will be there. But what if he’s more of a recluse? What if bonfires aren’t his thing?
Kent, the funnel cake boy. Kent, the bored employee with the cute sailor outfit.
