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Chapter One
Maisy
I stared across the sparkling turquoise pool, past the stunning man-made waterfall feature, to the canopy covered nook where the courtesy hosts—or cabana boys, as me and my friends liked to call them—organized and filled requests. Drink orders and spray misters and just about anything you could dream up, the boys could make it happen.
Such was the posh resort life. Got money? Or in our case, got a famous internet influencer whose good word could mean a wealth of new business for your resort? Then snap thy fingers, and get whatever you want.
It was as easy as that.
And I couldn’t deny that it was exactly what my tired soul needed right now. Total rest and relaxation. Someone refilling the margaritas while I lounged by the pool and soaked up the somehow sweeter-than-normal island air.
But that wasn’t why I was hiding behind my oversized sunglasses while I ogled the hosts’ tent.
His name was Malachi.
And like all the other cabana boys, he was beautifully sculpted, bronzed from the sun, and wore a smile that said, “I’m here to fulfil your every dream.” The difference between him and the others? His eyes were on me all. The. Time.
Onme.
Not that I wasn’t looking awesome in all the brand new swimwear I’d purchased for our girl’s vacay. Thanks to the Chub Club forum online that we were all part of, we’d found some banging swimsuits to accentuate all the curves we were blessed with. Not to mention eveningwear for nights out. I had a new pair of heels that made my calves look… chef’s kiss good, even if I do say so myself.
So what was my hang-up about Malachi?
Maybe it was because I didn’tbelievea man like him should be looking at me with those incredible lusty eyes.
I was working on my mindset, but it was a work-in-progress. And some days were better than others. Sometimes I could look in the mirror and I wasn’t afraid of what stared back. I could even see parts of me that were sexy. But other times it was a struggle against my perceived societal norms.
Big girls aren’t pretty.
Big girls can’t wear bikinis.
Big girls shouldn’t expect hot-as-hell men to desire them.
Fuck that, I often wanted to scream.
My friends from the Chub Club had helped so much. Especially Gia.
Gia was the reason the four of us were here in the first place. As an extremely popular social influencer, she was offered an all-expense paid trip to the notorious Ember Island. Across the web, it had been deemed the hottest summer destination and earned many a raunchy nickname for its reputation of being home to so many hot and horny locals. Such as Peen Isle. Like penile.
That one made me laugh out loud.
Everything burns hotter on Ember Island, the brochure read, and after spending just four days of our three weeks here, I certainly had to agree.
Hottest of all was Malachi.
Some of the cabana boys wore collared t-shirts. He didn’t. Shirtless was his MO. And what a blessing that was.
He was the kind of broad-shouldered hunk you expected to find on the cover of a romance novel. Definitely as drool-worthy. His abdominal muscles tapered to a perfect V that disappeared under the waist of his Hawaiian print shorts. And I’d have to be blind not to notice the significant bulge behind that fly.
Kara cleared her throat and turned the page of the magazine she was reading. “He’s staring at you again,” she sing-songed.
I shifted uncomfortably. “I know.”
“Looks like he’s gathering the lotion,” Helena chimed in. “I bet he asks youagainif you want him to slather you up.”
For the fourth time, was what she left unsaid.
“Maybe it’s sunblock and he’s very concerned about skin cancer?” I offered. It was a valid concern since I was a natural redhead.
