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Chapter One
Sara
I twirl a hot pink umbrella into an oversized margarita. It’s not really my drink of choice. I’d rather something fruitier, but the group of guys at the far end of the bar ordered a round for the table. Usually, I’d turn down free drinks, as they’re never reallyfree, but to go along with Margo, I’ll at least hold one. She’s desperate for a last-minute connection before she heads back into the reality of herreallife.
Truthfully, I’d be right there with her if I hadn’t turned over this new leaf. Two solid weeks of minding my own damn business, only worrying about me. That has to be a record.
Margo stands from the bar stool, her legs wobbly as she waves toward the men, calling them over. This is our last night on the island and I know she’s desperate to make a connection with someone, but I’d rather just head up early and start trying to figure out how I’m going to manage life when we get back to San Francisco.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. “Not yet. We have to—”
“We have to nothing, Sara,” Margo says, situating her breasts higher in her dress. “This is our last night here. We’re going to live it up.”
I rest my head in my palm and squeeze my eyes shut. Hearing the words out loud makes the reality of the situation more dire—our last night here. If only thereal lifewaiting back in California weren’t so impossibly difficult, I may not be as depressed about leaving paradise. Then again, who knows? Maybe leaving crystal clear water and false reality would always be depressing.
“Hey,” the surfer dude from the back table says. He’s tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes—tattoos streaked up and down his arms. “You two mind if we sit?” He gestures back toward his two friends. A tall, bearded guy who’s built like a tank, and another darker featured guy who's just as muscular but less rugged looking.
Margo doesn’t hesitate. “No, of course not. Sit,” she says. “I’m Margo and this is Sara.”
I roll my eyes and twist the umbrella in my drink again.
The surfer dude smiles and holds out his large hand for a shake. “I’m Brad. These are my buddies Zane and Colin.”
The other guys nod hello and everyone sits at our table, bottles in hand.
“So where are you girls here from?” Colin asks, taking a swig of his beer. He’s the one that looks like he’s been lifting since he was eight and I can barely take my eyes off him.Trust me, I’m trying.
“We’re from San Francisco. Market Street,” Margo says.
I nudge her in the rib and throw her a wide-eyed stare, hoping she gets the message to shut her trap. My mother wasn’t much help growing up, but one thing I learned was to be cautious of random men in bars.You don’t want to end up like Aunt Jennie,she’d say, pulling another drag of a cigarette.
Aunt Jennie trusted a random bar fly one time in a strange place in Oklahoma, and she ended up locked in someone’s basement for sixteen months. She was lucky to get out alive. My mother has carried a gun with her ever since, though the story never actually kept her out of the bar, which would’ve been most advantageous for the both of us. I try not to be bitter about it. I only wish she’d found a conclusion where she stayed home with me more growing up, maybe came to a few science fairs. Hell, I’d even settled for being home for dinner a few nights a week. Instead, Mom made her way to the bar, safe with her weapon of choice, while I made myself boxed mac and cheese and watched reruns of Golden Girls. I actually learned quite a bit from those women: looking good is imperative to success, no topic is ever too taboo, and cheesecake solves most everything. Though, cheesecake is still a treat I’ve never had. It was way too expensive for my mother to have ever brought into the house and since I left home, I use all my extra income to pay for school—until this trip at least.
“San Francisco!” Brad says. “You’re a long way from home. Girl’s trip?”
I nod. “It was, but one of our friends ditched for an unexpected jaunt with her boyfriend.”
“Two is better than one,” Brad says, before taking in a mouthful of beer. I’ll admit, he is pretty cute. All these men are, but I still keep Aunt Jennie’s story close to my mind.
“What about you guys?” I ask. “Where are you from?”
“Miami,” Zane says. His tone is deeper and more reserved than the other men, and I get the feeling he’s been dragged over to our table by his friends.
“Nice,” I manage. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve always wanted to. That’s where Lexi… our other friend… that’s where her boyfriend is from.”
Zane nods and looks away, gripping the long neck of his bottle to take another sip. Okay… maybe I could see him sweeping me away to the depths of a concrete cave.
“Anyway,” Brad says with a breath of fresh energy. “We were going to take a walk on the beach after this. You ladies want to join?”
Margo looks toward me quickly, not waiting for an answer before she nods. “We’d love that! Right, Sara?”
I wouldn’t mind a walk on the beach. I think we were going to take one anyway, but her eagerness has my skin crawling. I know she’s desperate for a last-minute fling and honestly, I don’t blame her. If I were running home to an arranged marriage, I’d feel the same way.
“Cool,” Brad says. “We can take you guys to this beach bar called Buddha’s Shade, on the north side of the island. It’s pretty this time of night with all the torches lit.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to sound as genuine as possible with a fake grin plastered on my face.
Sure, these guys are hot, but I’m on a twelve-step program to get my life right again and being this close to attractive men makes me want to do things that aren’t in my future plan.
