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CHAPTER SEVEN
I kick into the warm, powdery, white sand just out of reach from the rippling waves breaking lazily against the shore, watching my toes sink with each step.
So, I’ve found my distraction. And on day one too. Maybe Flynn was right—this place is lucky. The salty air whips my hair around my face. A couple of sailboats dot the turquoise water on an otherwise empty horizon. It’s postcard perfect alright. I wonder what kind of luck Flynn was really talking about, though. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t over finding a possible summer fuck buddy who shares my phobia of commitment. I tuck my hair behind my ear and turn from the water. He could have been a little clearer in his letter.
My brain sucks without at least three coffees. Doesn’t help it won’t stop veering between all of the ways this thing I’ve started with Sonnie could blow up in my face, and guilt over the look Nina gave me before she cut the call earlier. I walk a little faster along the beach, this time moving close enough to the water for the tide to tug at my feet, cooling the burn of the hot sand.
Last night we came home this way from the bar. It didn’t seem like that long a walk. It does now. Might have had something to do with the fact I had company. Nice, funny, sexy company. Company I really need to stop thinking about. I smooth my black cotton sundress down against the breeze. Shorts are a no-go today. So is sunbathing and swimming and pretty much everything else due to the lovely new, unfinished ink I’m sporting. Even my bikini bottoms are rubbing. It doesn’t matter, though, just the thought of it makes me smile. So pretty. Or it will be once it’s finished.
The question is––Who will finish it? Sonnie is the obvious choice, but only if he lets me pay.
If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll just wait until I get home and have LJ finish the tattoo. I don’t have to look in a mirror to know I’m grimacing. That would be awkward. So fucking awkward. There’s a reason I didn’t go to him in the first place. Hello??? Vajayjay?!?!?!
I follow the tide line around a curve in the never-ending beach until The Beach Hut finally comes into view like some sort of desert oasis.
My tummy flips. Maybe he’s ... Yeah, no. Let’s not go there. Like, ever.I roll my eyes at my stray tummy flip and stomp across the hot sand towards the bar. I do not want him to be there. I don’t!
And I thought the place was special at night. I brush my hand along the back of one of the white cushions of a chillout as I pass it. A sweet scent pierces the air and my tummy rumbles. Whatever they’ve got cooking here smells like actual heaven.
By the time I make it to the shade of the inside part of the bar, I’m practically slavering. A pretty, teeny-weeny bartender grins at me from behind the bar. Her, super short, black hair wrapped, pin-up style in a red paisley bandana almost identical to the one I’ve got holding my bangs from my face.
“If it isn’t Clua’s newest superstar.” Hands flat on the polished driftwood bar top, she practically bounces on the spot, her grin stretching wider the closer I get to her. “You were fantastic in the competition last night, and Sonnie—well Sonnie’s, Sonnie. He’s always great. I can’t wait for the Festival Concert now.”
“Competition? Festival?” I stare flatly at her excited face, the girly part of my brain admiring her cherry red lipstick, the other part wracking itself to figure out what she’s talking about.
“Sure. You weren’t here when they announced the winners—”
“You think I’m great, Jo?” Deep and instantly recognizable, I don’t need to look to know who’s behind me. Sonnie.
I try to arrange my face into something nonplussed and natural before I turn. “Great’s pushing it, I’d say so-so at best.”
“That’s not what you screamed last night,” he practically purrs. His gaze moves down my body as if my dress doesn’t exist. As if I’m not leaning against the polished wood bar surrounded by people but spread out for him in the middle of his bed like I was last night.
I tip my head to the side when he finally lifts his attention to my face. “Are you following me now? Did I mix my signals this morning?” I hold his stare and smile big.
The bartender, who must be Jo, unsuccessfully attempts to hide her snort-laugh with a cough.
I smile bigger.
So does he.
His body moves closer to mine, his hand dropping lazily to my hip as he dips his head until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s been a long time since a woman’s left me high and dry.” The hand not on my hip lifts as if he’s going to push my hair back over my shoulder, but instead he runs the tip of his finger over the triangle between my breasts.
“I thought you had to work.” My words come out all kinds of throaty. I clear my throat and roll my eyes before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t miss it. “Just finished. She was a fainter.” His lips curve up at one side. “Why so interested? You miss me?”
I shake my head but can’t seem to shift the grin from my face. “You’re good, but you’re not that good, Sonnie.”
His brows raise. He knows as well as I do—He’s good enough that I’ll be back for seconds, thirds. And maybe even fourths.
What's the worst that could happen? This, whatever it is, has a definite end date that neither of us are interested in changing.
“You two like to order now? Or shall I leave you to your loud whispering? Very loud whispering...”
I giggle. Twice in two days. I can’t help it. It must be all this salt air. And maybe the things that worn black T-shirt is doing to his chest.
Sonnie just straightens and offers her an unabashed shrug. “I’ll have a couple of Laia’s pie bars, an iced coffee and—” He raises his eyebrows at me in question.
