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It is mortifying that I’m even admitting he’s attractive, but now he’s freaking easy to talk to as well. I think there’s something in the water here, other than bacteria, that is making my brain go into meltdown mode. There’s no other explanation for my weirdness.
I glance at my friends, who have gotten to talking to a couple of guys next to them. Trust Charlize to sniff them out.
He nods to my friends. “Maybe you’d like to join them? Plenty of young, available men in Mexico. Just make sure you’re careful, Ariana. Some of them may not have the best intentions.”
He has no reason to worry, because despite what Charlize says, I’m not going to pick up a stranger in a foreign country.
I want to tell him I’ve no intention of doing that, none at all. But I don’t.
I nod. “I always am.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, but they don’t linger there long. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed it.
He moves closer to my ear. “Glad to hear it. I’m glad you’re having a good time. Let me know about dinner, won’t you?”
I’m too dumbfounded at his close proximity to form an answer, so I just nod stupidly.
With that, he swims toward the steps, then pulls himself out of the water as I try my hardest not to let the quivers taking over me turn my insides to jelly.
What the hell?
Was Mr. B, like… flirting with me just now?
No.He was just being nice.
Our eyes meet as he crosses in front of me, back to his lounger, and I look away. I can’t help but notice the slight upturn of his mouth, like he knows all about my racing heart and my illicit thoughts.
But that’s ridiculous.
Mr. B is sexier than most men half his age, and that’s not a line, it’s a freaking fact.
But I have to take a breath and a beat.
I haven’t gotten any in a while, and even though Mr. B is my ex-boyfriend’s father, which is obscene to even contemplate, he’s still a ripped, masculine, silver fox with a dirty mouth, and for some strange reason, that’s hitting every nerve in my body.
I can’t keep thinking about him like this. I’ll put a stop to it right now….
I glance over to my friends again, and I want to groan out loud. I’ve literally no intension of flirting with guys, especially inhispresence. I have some freaking decency.
Yet, a part of my brain wonders why the hell it matters what he thinks.
Point one to Mr. Bentley.
Chapter Eight
Ariana
We spend the afternoon in the spa, and I’m so relaxed and happy after a ninety-minute massage that I’ve decided I might quit my job and move here permanently.
Nobody at work will even miss me, and I barely see my dad and my stepmom these days anyway.We’ve always had a strained relationship, my real mom left when I was eight.
The cool liquid she pours on my face smells like cucumber and feels incredibly hydrating as she places cool eye pads over my eyes. I practically fall asleep for the next half an hour.
I seriously wonder how I ever fit work in.
The staff here are so amazing, always smiling and friendly, not like in America. I’ve forgotten the last time I received good service anywhere at home. People just rush around without a care in the world, but not here. They don’t seem to be in a rush to go anywhere.
I think about Mr. Bentley’s words when he said about taking the time out for yourself, and he’s so right. I’ve not done that in years, and I don’t know where this bout of self-confidence is coming from, but I feel like I’m on some kind of euphoric, vacation high.
