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“I wouldn’t mind going for a walk on the beach.” Chelsea pouts as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me as if the whole thing is my fault. Brilliant. She’ll likely hold this against me until her dying breath. I’m about to agree that jet lag is kicking my ass and leave Chelsea to deal with our guest and hightail it out of here, but I have no such luck.
“Nah, that’s okay.” Tristan winks brazenly at my stunned, silent sister. “You should stay here with your mother so she can help you pick out your shoes or whatever for the next week.”
Oh Lord.
Perhaps I should have paid better attention during dinner, because Tristan is being blatantly rude to my sister, and in front of both sets of our parents no less.
Mom’s laughter rings throughout the dining room. “Wow. One dinner with you, Chelsea, and it’s like he already knows you. Would you look at that.” Yeah, Mom, I don’t think Tristan meant whatever he said about Chelsea’s love for shoes as a compliment.
Ugh, it seems like I don’t have a say in any part of my life anymore and I’m about to take a nonromantic stroll down the beach that my mom deemed acceptable with a guy I don’t really care for. One I have no desire to spend any more time around. At this point, though, I can’t actually say no without making a scene.
I drain the rest of my champagne and stand before Tristan can touch me again and attempt to drag me around.
“Someone please let Drew know that dinner was fantastic. He truly is a catch for this place.”
Daddy beams at me. “I couldn’t agree more, baby girl. I’m so glad you think so too.” I don’t miss the disgusted look Mom throws my way for mentioning the chef she obviously disapproves of. I’ll probably hear more later about how a lady enjoys food in moderation and how I eat like a trucker or something.
Tristan takes hold of my hand and we walk out of the dining room. Just as we are walking through the door, I catch sight of the white chef’s coat Drew wears, but Tristan pulls me out of the room.
That’s okay, I tell myself. I’m going to be here all summer, so there will be plenty of opportunities to drool over him later.
“The trail to the beach is this way, right?”
I don’t know why he bothers to ask when he doesn’t wait for my response before dragging me down the hill behind him toward the path that I’m assuming might actually lead to the beach. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had the chance to explore this part of the island yet.
The trail is sandy and surrounded by tall grass and palm trees.
“Tristan, stop.” I tug on his hand, and he finally lets me go. “I can’t walk in the sand with these things.”
I point down at the ridiculously high heels that have been forced on me. Give me a pair of flip-flops any day and I’ll rock them, but high heels aren’t my friends.
He rolls his eyes impatiently as I slip my shoes off, carrying them with me when he pulls me onto the cool sand.
There’s a pleasant breeze blowing in from the sea, bringing in the invigorating scent of the ocean, while lazy waves crash on the waterfront where the sand is wet and compact under our feet.
I quicken my pace, finally managing to free my hand from Tristan’s hold, and I decide not to let his presence spoil the beauty that surrounds me.
I think Tristan should definitely give Chelsea a chance, she’s more his type. My type? I honestly don’t know, but one dinner was enough to understand that Tristan isn’t it. That obviously doesn’t mean that I can’t be friendly with him, he’s just going to have to look elsewhere if he wants more.
I take a few more steps, shivering slightly when the water touches my feet. It’s early on in the season, and the sea hasn’t had time to absorb the sun’s heat, so the water is still chilly at night.
As I walk without a destination in mind, I spot a light in the distance toward the edge of the resort. It’s brighter than the eco-lights that dot the rest of the beach, probably a bonfire.
“Hey, pretty girl, where are you going?” Tristan catches up with me, grabbing my hand again and causing me to come to an abrupt stop, almost crashing against his chest.
He’s solid and warm, maybe a little too warm, as he tightens his hold on me.
“I was just thinking about checking out that bright light,” I say, trying to put more distance between us.
“If memory serves from the quick tour we were given when we got here earlier, that must be the staff quarters. They must be having a bonfire.”
I think he’s right, they must be partying. A gust of wind carries the tune of a country song, and I attempt to take a step in that direction, my curiosity as strong as the urge to get away from Tristan or at least to have more people around us.
But he has a different idea about how our walk should go, I should have known that.
“I’d stay away fromthosepeopleif I were you, Greer. Nothing but cheap booze and even cheaper weed. I bet there isn’t a line of coke in sight. I haven’t been inside one of those shacks the staff lives in, but I’m sure they must smell of stale sweat and crappy beer. I wouldn’t be slumming it with the blue-collar side of the resort, it’s not what a girl like you is used to or deserves.”
I don’t have the chance to say anything to his rather snobbish assessment of my father’s employees because his mouth descends on mine, tongue first.
