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The entire scene has been running on repeat through my mind nonstop. Relief flooded through me when he finally came to, and I assume he’s going to be okay now, or at least I hope. I’m thankful he agreed to go to the hospital because you never know what other issues can arise from situations like that. That alone eased my mind because there have been many instances of others not being so lucky after nearly drowning.
“Hey, you’re that girl who saved that guy on the beach today!” the bartender shouts loud enough for everyone in the pool area to hear.
Natalie responds before I can. “She sure fucking did!”
I glance at her and scowl, not wanting the extra attention.
“Drinks on me, pretty lady,” he says with a wide grin. “What you did was amazing.”
I force out a smile. “Thanks. I’m a nurse, so it’s just instinct,” I respond, trying to brush it off so he stops talking about it.
“So what can I get you? You deserve one!” he insists.
“She needs sex on the beach!” Natalie hollers before I can speak, again.
“Nat!” I scold.
“Oh, sorry. I meant, she’ll take a Sex on the Beach.” She looks over at me and winks. All I can manage is to shake my head at her and laugh.
“You got it,” the bartender responds, reaching for a clean glass.
“Fruity drinks get me drunk way too fast,” I complain, just loud enough for Natalie to hear me.
“That’s the point,” she states matter-of-factly. “Unless you plan on staying sober this trip?” She grins.
“Not if you’re going to be this way the entire time.” I chuckle, and she’s too drunk to even realize that was a burn directed at her.
Moments later, the bartender serves me my drink and winks before walking to the other end of the bar to help another customer.
Natalie holds up her drink before I can even take a sip of mine. “To River!” she shouts, making Adam and me hold our drinks up, too. “For being a kick-ass nurse!”
Okay, I can drink to that, I think to myself before clanking my glass with theirs and taking my first sip. It’s strong as fuck, but luckily, my room isn’t far.
Adam knows how Natalie gets when she’s in party mode, so he knows she’ll need some assistance getting back to their room tonight, which is why he takes it easy and only drinks a couple. I haven’t seen her this way in a really long time, but I know she works hard and doesn’t let loose that much anymore. At least not since our early college days.
“River,” I hear a rough and deep voice say behind me. It’s one I recognize.
“Alex!” Natalie squeals before I even have a chance to turn around. “How’s your friend?”
“He’s doing fine. They kept him overnight for observation.”
Inhaling a deep breath, hoping I don’t look too tipsy right now, I straighten my posture and turn around to face him.
“That’s good,” I sincerely say in response to Dylan’s condition.
I don’t know why, but things feel awkward between us. We barely spoke on the beach today mainly because there was no time. I didn’t even know his name until just now, yet he knows mine.
“Can I sit?” he asks, nodding his head toward the empty seat next to me.
“Of course, you can!” Natalie answers.
“I think we should take a walk,” Adam says, sensing the awkward tension between Alex and me and grabs Natalie’s hand.
“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to take a walk on the beach. It sounds so romantic,” she slurs against his chest after he steadies her.
I chuckle, while silently thanking Adam because no telling what embarrassing things Natalie would say in her current condition.
After Alex takes the seat next to me, he gets the bartender’s attention and orders himself a beer then places money on the counter.
“So you didn’t stay with him?” I ask, facing the bar again.
“I offered, but us Southern men are stubborn when it comes to our pride,” he explains with a smirk on his face. “I told him to call me when he’s discharged so I can bring him back. I’m sure he’ll be itching to party.”
“As long as he stays far away from the water,” I add, smiling.
The bartender takes his money off the bar while shooting me a wink.
“So I don’t think we’ve formally met,” he states, holding out his hand. “I’m Alex Bishop.”
Swallowing, I place my hand in his. “River Lancaster.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” he tells me, moving my knuckles up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on them.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We stare into each other’s eyes, and he keeps my hand in his. Somehow, I’m stuck in his trance, and I don’t know how to get out. He’s a beefy guy, solid and muscular, and I’ve never seen a man like him before. Most of the guys I’ve dated were gym rats, but I can tell he’s not. His body was built from hard labor.
