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"Brilliant. And in the meantime, there will be miniten matches on the south lawn. And I'll be taking a small group to Suva for some shopping. Why don't you participate in all of those events? It would distract you for sure."
What the heck? At least Craig won't be there. He was never a fan of shopping. "That all sounds great, Emilio. Thank you." I kiss his cheek. "You are the best assistant manager I've ever met."
He blushes. "Thanks, Vanessa."
Once we return to the resort proper, I head for the miniten court to find out more about the game, since I'd only casually observed a match. Holly Bythesea comes over to me and offers to explain the basics of miniten before I attempt to participate in a match. Players follow the rules of tennis, mostly, though Holly informs me that nobody enforces those rules. Guests come here to relax, after all, not engage in official sporting events. The thugs players use instead of rackets baffle me. Who on earth came up with the idea of putting a box around the player's hand?
Holly laughs. "Yeah, it is weird. Miniten was invented in the nineteen thirties to accommodate the quirks of the naturist lifestyle. Most resorts don't have enough land to create a regulation tennis court, so smaller ones became the norm. Now, it's become a tradition, and there's even a book outlining the rules. We sell that book in the gift shop."
"Interesting. I might need to buy a copy."
Zach jogs up to us, though he's focused on me, not Holly, though she's much closer to his age than I am. "Hey, Vanessa. Want to play a little miniten with us? My partner left to take a class on creating shell necklaces. I need a new partner. What do you say?"
Oh, what the hell. I can't reasonably avoid Zach for the entire two weeks we're here. "I'd love to do that. After seeing how you play the game, I have no doubts you'll be a great miniten coach for a newbie like me."
"Awesome." He offers me his arm. "Let me escort you onto the court."
Zach has shattered all my preconceptions about people in their twenties. He might say "awesome" sometimes, but he's a true gentleman.
I let him lead me out onto the miniten court, which is just a well-mown grassy area. Lawn chairs and chaises have been set up at the periphery so that spectators can comfortably watch the matches. Small tables positioned here and there between the chairs have umbrellas attached to them. I see some of the people I'd met on the nature walk sitting there watching, waiting for the next match to begin.
Holly had explained some of the rules to me, but Zach tells me that we need a strategy to win, otherwise we will "get our asses wiped like newborn babies." I can't help laughing at that. He doesn't seem irritated that I found his statement amusing. Instead, he grins.
Then the match begins.
Our opponents are a man and a woman who seem to be about my age. Is it fair to have middle-aged people competing against a muscular young man? Well, I will probably be a hindrance for our side, since I've never played miniten before. But the couple on the other side of the net seem like they're pros. To me, a miniten pro is anyone who has played the game at least once. I doubt anyone here is a true pro, and I'm pretty sure there isn't a professional miniten league. This seems like a game for amateurs.
I've just hit the ball over the net with my thug for the first time when someone whoops.
"Go, Nessa!"
Those three syllables make me freeze and slowly rotate my head toward the man who had shouted that encouragement. I swear every hair on my body stiffens as if an electrical current has arced over my skin.
Craig gives me the thumbs-up sign.
A tingle of excitement sweeps through me as a memory of our time on the beach explodes in my mind. And I know what that means.
Oh, shit. I want to screw my ex-husband again.
Chapter Eight
Craig
Why is Vanessa gaping at me that way? I was trying to be nice and show support for her first attempt at playing miniten. My ex-wife had never been a fan of sports, though she always loved watching our son Greg play baseball when he was high school. Vanessa would whoop and jump up and down, clapping so hard that I think her palms must have been sore afterward. She never participated in sports, though.
Until today. She seems to love miniten.
Maybe that's because her horny young suitor is playing by her side.
No, I'm not jealous. I'm too old for that shit. But I'd hoped that our interlude on the beach would have changed something between us. Shouldn't making love on the sand on a tropical island have brought us closer together? But no, she seems even more determined to run away from me.
She's scared. I understand that, considering the fact thatIdivorcedher. The only way I can win her back is if I tell her everything, but I doubt she'll listen---unless I can prove to her that I'm serious about rekindling our relationship. That might be an impossible task, but I won't give up. Vanessa Stendahl has been the love of my life since the day we met. I know she still uses her married name, even though we're divorced, and I don't care that she added her maiden name in there to become Vanessa Stendahl Hathaway. She could rename herself Mrs. Santa Claus and I wouldn't care.
Vanessa finally stops gaping at me and faces the net again.
I can't get over how silly those thugs are. A wedge-shaped wooden box? On your hand? Naturists are crazy. But I can't deny I love watching Vanessa whack the ball with her thug. She jumps up to do that, and her tits flap wildly. When she realizes the other team failed to hit the ball, and she and Zach have won the match, Vanessa flings her arms up and whoops.
Then she spins around and throws herself at Zach.
