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I flop onto my back, letting the stinging wash over me, honestly damned impressed. They almost had us. If they'd kept themselves together better, I would've let Declan pee on me. I wonder how long it would have taken us to look each other in the eye after that one?
It could be worse. The damned jellyfish could have stung me in the balls. See, gotta look on the bright side. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift. Either the stinging will stop, or the ambulance will show up. Either way, this will be over at some point.
"Nick," a soft voice says. The touch on my shoulder makes my body light up.
Bree.
I open my eyes, taking in her remorseful, worried face. "You came back for me. I thought you abandoned me," I say sadly. Yes, I'm milking this. Am I ashamed? Nope.
She winces and turns, waving to the butler. He's a tanned, strong sixty, so with him under one arm, and Bree under the other, we start a slow walk up to the house.
I'm careful with my weight on Bree, but pretty quickly realize that she can hold me. The strength in her body is more than capable of supporting me. God, what I wouldn't give to have her up against—. Nope. Not going there. Friends. That's all. That's all we'll ever be.
They settle me onto a lounger in the shade, and within a couple of minutes, stingers have been removed, and my foot's soaking in hot water. The relief turns my muscles into jelly.
"I'm sorry," Bree says, tugging another lounger closer. "I didn't mean..." she stops, biting her lip.
I grin, letting her off the hook. "You saw a golden opportunity to fuck with us, and you took it. Honestly, that's the kind of shit that makes you a perfect fit for this family."
Her shoulders drop down from around her ears where they were hanging out, and she grins. "The look on your face." She dissolves into giggles, flopping sideways on the lounger. I turn my head so I can watch her fall apart.
This.
This is what I was hoping for. Every time I thought about this trip, I thought about Bree. Tanned, sweaty skin gleaming, her body shaking with joy and laughter. This has got to be the Bree she used to be. She's everything.
How the fuck am I going to stop myself from falling in love with her?
7
BREE
This is embarrassing. Sitting in a room with Nick, waiting for my sister and his brother to finish having sex, is getting old.
Nick, in a pair of jeans faded nearly white, and a simple short sleeve white shirt, unbuttoned to the center of his chest, leans against the wall in the corner of the room. He couldn't be further from me.
His eyes dart around the room, landing on me and then quickly looking away. It's obvious he's feeling just as uncomfortable as I am, but neither of us wants to be the first one to say something about it. I can't take the strained silence any longer.
"At least this place is big enough, we don't have to worry about hearing them," I say cheerfully. Way too cheerfully. Nick's crack of laughter makes me glad I said something, even if it's awkward as hell.
"I'm sick of this shit," he says, shaking his head and crossing the room to me. He holds out his hand, palm up. "Let's get out of here. They can track us down later or not. But we're only here for a little while longer, and I don't want to waste any more time waiting for them."
I don't hesitate, putting my hand in his and letting him tug me gently to my feet. "Deal. I'm in desperate need of a Cubano, and a very big drink." Cara and Declan can stay in that room for the rest of the trip for all I care. Nick's all the company I need right now.
The heat of the Miami night is oppressive, especially coming from the cold of Chicago, but the smell of salt water and sweet perfume is intoxicating. Music rises up from every corner, a mix of Salsa, Reggaeton, and Jazz. Motorcycles zip by, followed by old-school convertibles with their windows rolled down to let in the evening breeze.
The streets are alive in a way that I've only experienced here. Not that I've traveled much, but I still dream about the last time I was in this city.
People line up outside nightclubs and dance in the middle of intersections when traffic slows down or stops completely. Women dressed to perfection sashay past us arm-in-arm with their friends, laughing and calling out greetings to strangers on their way by.
Nick and I walk side by side, soaking up the chaos around us. Our arms casually brush, neither of us mentioning it or pulling away. We just keep walking, following our noses to a food truck parked crookedly at the curb. Judging by the crowd around it, we're in for a treat.
Everyone seemed to be talking at once, but it doesn't drown out the sizzling from the grill. The air is filled with the smell of Cuban sandwiches and fries and my stomach growls in anticipation.
Nick and I step up to the window. He smiles at me, like someone just offered to do very dirty things to him, then orders in perfect Spanish for the both of us. The woman, somewhere between fifty and seventy years old, her plump cheeks still smooth and unlined, grins at him. They exchange a few words...scratch that. They're flirting. With gusto. Both of them leaning into it, the woman doesn't stop taking orders or making change the whole time.
The man is a born flirt, but more than that, it's obvious to anyone that looks that he loves it. That in his eyes, she's ageless, and beautiful. I get it. If he flirted like that with me, I would be putty in his hands. Thank god he always keeps a distance between us. He flirts, but it's not with all of him.
With a wink, the woman hands over two platters of food. Nick insists I hold his elbow as we cross the street, narrowly missing a gaggle of drunk bachelorettes, and settles us on an unoccupied bench a little away from the chaos.
