A Quick Stop in Paradise

Chapter 1

Ryan

M om greeted me with a glassy kind of smile that I didn’t know what to do with, especially when she gave my boyfriend Shane a warmer, more genuine smile, shielding her eyes against the harsh sunlight. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “Hi, Shane, it’s so good to see you again! How’s everything been? How’s your family?”

Shane pulled the rolling suitcase up onto the boardwalk with us. The cool breeze was bliss right now, the hot sun on a clear day sweltering, stuffy on my forehead and prickling on the back of my neck. I’d dressed as best I could for the heat, but showing up to the resort in a bikini, which felt like the only way to survive the sunlight, was probably passe. My family was big on appearances.

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Bell,” he said, his voice absolutely glowing as he stepped in for a hug. “It’s been too long, huh? Everything’s good, everything’s good, how’s… how’s life? Better right now than it was a week ago, I guess.”

She laughed, and I felt awkwardly like a third wheel between my own mother and my own boyfriend. “Oh, you’re not wrong, I’ll tell you that. It’s so nice to kick back, relax… have the family all in one place. Well, it’ll be nicer once I’m by the pool with a drink in my hand. Well, you two—let’s get you inside. I’ve been corralling all the arrivals and everybody’s luggage all morning.”

Shane took my luggage, and the feminism left my body, because I did not mind letting someone else drag that big, bulky suitcase around in the hot sun. Thankfully, it was cool inside once we pushed through the cabana-style doors—a little out of place on the sleek, upscale resort—and into the reception area, where a dozen of my family members were squeezed in together with a few other rowdy crowds. We clearly weren’t the only ones exhausting the poor staff, a girl at the concierge desk doing her best with a polite customer-service smile as my grandmother tried to make some kind of point at her, but I could see the dark rings under her eyes. I tapped Shane on the elbow with a whispered word that I’d be with him in a second, and I stepped in out of pity for the poor girl, sidling up next to my grandmother, a stocky woman with a wispy puff of gray hair.

“Grandma—it’s been so long,” I said, and she dropped the sour look at the concierge, smiling warmly at me instead, flipping like a switch at my voice.

“Oh, Ryan, honey, it’s so nice to see you,” she said, giving me a hug. “Did you and Shane have a nice flight? Check his bags for anything special?” she said, with that exaggerated wink-wink-nudge-nudge kind of voice. Shane and I had been dating for almost two years now, and I guess he could have proposed—this luxe island resort was probably a nice place for it—but as much as I liked him, I kind of hoped he didn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry him, just… not yet.

“I’m not poking through his bags, Grandma. How are things with the house? I’ve only seen you once since you moved…”

“Oh, it’s lovely. Small, but it’s got everything we need. Plenty of space for Maxie to run around.”

Small? Sure… sometimes I thought I was the only one in the family who realized we were rich. Any house with two guest bedrooms did not count as small in my eyes. But maybe I was the odd one out. “I’m so glad,” I said. “She’s a big pup these days.”

“Oh, a destructive force of nature is what she is,” she said with a mock-exasperated eyeroll. “Anyway, speaking of trouble… the lady here has been saying my reward points don’t apply here, so I have to say, I’m not off to a good start here.”

Because the girl at the concierge counter, who looked barely more than eighteen and paid barely more than minimum wage, had direct control over company financial policies. Ah, whatever. Grandma had come from a different time and the world was changing faster than ever these days. I’d be out of touch one day too. I put a hand on Grandma’s arm, squeezing lightly. “Tell you what, I’ll see what I can figure out while Dad’s getting my and Shane’s stuff to our room, and you can go see Daniela and Nicole, okay? They just got here right before Shane and I did.”

I successfully corralled Grandma away, turning to the concierge staffer with a sympathetic smile, and I preempted her before she could go on the defensive.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “Grandma’s just had a long trip and she doesn’t travel often… what was she trying to do?”

The girl tried to maintain a polite customer-service smile, but I could see the genuine gratitude there at the change in tone. “She was just trying to redeem her travel rewards for an upgrade, but they’re with a company we don’t have any agreements with, so unfortunately we’re not able to accept the points.”

“And you didn’t wave your hands and change the company policy? Unbelievable,” I said lightly. “Well, she just wants a little something nice to make the vacation special. I’ll get some chocolates and flowers delivered to her room and tell her it was upgraded. Do you know a good place for that in the area?”

She laughed. “You’re kind of better at my job than I am. I can order that and credit it to your room if you want—you know, save yourself the trouble of running around and all.”

“That’d be perfect. Ryan Bell. My boyfriend Shane Austen and I are staying in suite 36. Is there somewhere I can put in a good word for your service?”

Poor girl looked like she’d cry a little bit. Judging by that and the state of the lobby around us, I was guessing my grandmother wasn’t the first person who’d been demanding with her today. She took a slip of card paper from underneath the register, a brochure for the concierge, and clicked a pen to circle a web address at the bottom. “You can fill out a survey for your experience here,” she said. “My name’s Allison. Feel free to ask for me by name if you need anything for your stay! I’m more than happy to help.”

“Thanks, Allison,” I said, pocketing the paper. “I’ll pass along the news to Grandma. Hope the rest of your shift isn’t too stressful.”

“Ha. We’ll see.” The brief look that flared over her face said she wasn’t supposed to say things like that to a customer, but I wasn’t their customer base who thought of staff as background objects, so I wasn’t exactly looking to dock points for it. “Enjoy your stay, Ms. Bell.”

It was a whirlwind of activity through the lobby—I lived close by to my mother and father, but I didn’t really see much of either of them since the whole blowup after my career switch, and the rest of my family was all spread across the country, so with the exception of my brother Oscar who’d taken my side in the career-change debacle, I didn’t see any of them much. And that, of course, meant greetings and gushing from every direction as I talked to every family member it was possible for one person to have, swirling around from person to person. Grandma was satisfied with my explanation of they couldn’t accept the points because the system isn’t programmed for it, but they sent a few upgrades to your suite and have a little treat en route for you to make it up to you, and my siblings caught me after that interaction, at the back of the lobby as most people were filing out to check their suites.

“Pulling black magic referencing the programming ,” Oscar said—my brother, who, despite being my twin, managed to look nothing like me. We’d always joked about which one of us had been the changeling swapped out at birth, and Oscar had a field day with telling people he had a twin named Ryan and letting people assume I was an identical twin brother so they’d do a double take if they saw me. He stood five inches over me at just a shave over six foot, dishwater blond hair in a scruffy mop, thick bushy eyebrows and light brown eyes almost olive-tinted, with a smile that could win over an attacking army. I wasn’t exactly dishing out winning smiles like that. I’d been told I was the neat type, organized, everything in its place, which I think was a polite way of telling me I had a serious expression and looked a little boring.

I shrugged, sidling up next to him along the back of the luxe cream couch, right by a window looking out at the pool. “What Grandma doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” I said.

My younger sister Stella entered the scene as she always did—striding in dramatically, pulling a face as she looked at me. “Grandma’s pushy and annoying, is what you mean to say.”

I smiled at her. “Stella. Nice to see you.”

She already had a drink in hand—guess she’d hit up the bar first. Looking for a cute bartender to flirt with, probably. She was a hopeless romantic until the moment she was actually in a relationship, when the thrill of the chase settled into something boring and she wanted out, but the next time would definitely be true love. So she said, anyway. She was a little shorter than me, with Oscar’s blonde hair in long, romantic waves, thin-rimmed glasses and lips she insisted didn’t have fillers even though we all saw what they looked like when she was growing up and noticed they suddenly changed at one point. I figured get fillers all you like, but denying it felt tacky.

Not that I’d say that to her face. Stella had the social grace of a half-starved raccoon, but luckily right now her ire wasn’t directed at me. She made a face into her drink and said, “We can’t get two seconds into a vacation without her harassing the staff, huh?”

“She grew up in a different era,” I said. “Used to be you had to bicker with the staff to get something good.”

“That’s how Ryan says Grandma is pushy and annoying,” Oscar said, and he leaned against the couch, grinning at me. “So, how’s the writing going?”

“Yeah, good, actually,” I said. “All my subscribers were really enthusiastic about my move to full-time, and it’s helping me produce a lot more articles, do some serious investigative digging.”

Stella made a face. “I still can’t believe you quit a six-figure job to go write stuff on the internet.”

“Ah, pay only went down by one figure,” I laughed. Stella didn’t seem to appreciate the humor, still scowling at me. Oscar shrugged.

“Gotta let your passion drive you and all that.”

Stella scowled at him. “You hate your job more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Oscar put a finger up. “And I wouldn’t recommend anyone else do that. I don’t give Ryan a lot of credit, so believe me when I say she got this one better than me.”

Stella ignored him, turning back to me. “How’s everything going with Shane? He still hasn’t proposed?”

“You’ll be mortified to know you and Grandma are on the same page. No, he hasn’t proposed, and I don’t think he’s proposing here.”

She made a face. “What? That sucks.”

I looked out the window at the pool, the bar next to it already busy. I guess the time of day, the day of the week, didn’t matter much to people on vacation. Shane leaned against the bar, only visible in brief glimpses through the crowd, talking with one of my more distant relatives—most of them liked Shane better than they liked me, honestly. Not that they didn’t like me, but Shane just had that knack for winning people over… guess it was no surprise I had people clambering over each other to tell me I had to lock him down. “I’m not in any rush to get married,” I said, after a second, and Stella snorted.

“You’re a bad liar. It’s okay to admit you’re impatient. It’s been years.”

Oscar shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think Stella’s trying to steal your man.”

Stella wrinkled her nose. “I’m trying to be supportive.”

“He is popular with my family,” I said lightly. Oscar shrugged overdramatically.

“Hey, he’s a good-looking guy. Maybe I’ll be the one to steal him from you instead.”

“Hm. I don’t think he’d go for that.” My brother didn’t even like people. Wore it so openly that he could be homoerotic and not raise any questions, because nobody would ever accuse him of actually liking a man. Or a woman. Or anyone. Stella huffed, putting her hands up and turning away.

“I try to be supportive and I’m the bad guy. I’m just saying! You need to get on his case a little bit to get him to propose before he starts getting ideas.”

“Getting ideas,” I said, looking after her. “What does that mean?”

“He’s a guy. You know what that means.” She walked away before I could ask her any further, and I shot Oscar a look.

“You’re a guy. Do you know what that means?”

“Think she’s saying he’ll cheat on you. You know, men are all filthy animals who can’t control their lust and it’s a woman’s job to tame their desperate animalistic instincts.”

“Does my sister actually like men?”

He shrugged. “Men are dicks. Can’t blame her. If I were a girl, I’d be a lesbian.”

“I don’t think dating women is necessarily easier.” Not that I’d know—I’d never actually dated a woman, not for lack of interest. I’d known I was bisexual since I played volleyball at my high school—tight shorts on a bunch of tall, athletic girls will do that to you—but I’d never actually had the guts to date a woman. Never really come out to anyone in my family, either, although I was half-convinced sometimes that Oscar knew. Even just talking about lesbianism right now felt awkwardly like being in between realms, especially when he laughed, looking sidelong at me.

“Like you’d know?”

“Well, no,” I said. “But, I mean… no one’s perfect. Women have our issues too.”

“Ah, well, sure. Everyone does. But men get away with having issues. Patriarchy and all that.”

“Well, aren’t you socially aware. Been reading your Judith Butler?”

“I do not know who that is, but it sounds smart, so I’ll pretend I have.”

“Well, you might be right,” I sighed, pushing away from the couch. “But either way, even if Shane was thinking of cheating on me, I don’t think getting him to propose to me would fix that.”

“Careful. Don’t say that where Stella might hear, you’ll shatter her worldview.”

“I think she’ll be okay. I’m going to get to my suite, but I’ll see you for dinner.”

“Yeah, go get your man and control his wandering eyes,” he said, and I rolled my eyes with a dry smile to myself as I strolled across the lobby.

Once I’d gotten to Shane and led him to our suite, he unlocked the door to suite 36 and led me inside, a ground-floor room with a kitchenette and a back patio that led out towards the beach. The back door was cracked to let in the breeze coming in off the water—the view of the ocean was mostly blocked by the resort cafeteria, but the strip of it we could see glimmered in the sunlight, the long strand of the beach still only sparsely crowded right now. Shane stripped his shoes off by the door and dropped down on the foot of the bed, making a face.

“Cheaped out on the mattress,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow at him, sinking onto it next to him. I saw what he meant—it was clearly a nice mattress topper on an average mattress, but this was a full king-size bed. Wouldn’t really call it cheaping out.

“Doesn’t feel half-bad to me,” I said, and he chuckled.

“Always the optimist.” He slipped an arm around my back, grinning at me. He had that roguish kind of charm about him, a rugged dash of dark stubble and a strong jawline, and it was clear when he was really having a good time—the gleam in his eyes said it all. “Nice being back around the family?”

“It’s… fine,” I said, looking back at the sliding glass doors. “It’s felt weird ever since the whole blowup over my career.”

“They’re all really nice. I think it’s great to see them all again.”

“They are nice. Sometimes being nice is just a… a cover, I guess.” I laughed. “Listen to me. I’m being bitter.”

“They just want what’s best for you.”

“I guess.”

“Well, I’m gonna take a shower and look around the resort a little before we go for dinner. Get to know the area.” He kissed the side of my head before standing up. “You’ve been exhausted all day. You should get in some rest, take a nap.”

“I’m really all right,” I protested. “I can come with.”

“You’ll be dead on your feet at dinner. Relax. Look after yourself. It’s a vacation, dammit,” he laughed. I hunched my shoulders, but I relented. He wasn’t wrong… I’d been running around with my hair on fire all morning and I was exhausted.

“I guess… I was kind of in the middle of an article, so I want to finish writing that. And I’ve got reading material to catch up on too.”

“The part about it being a vacation didn’t really come through, did it? Ah, well.” He shrugged. “You know what you need, baby girl. I’m taking that shower now. Unless you wanna come with…” He pushed the band of his pants down a little with a suggestive eyebrow waggle, and I snorted.

“So I’m too tired to read but not too tired for that?”

“Suit yourself,” he laughed, but I swear there was a note of something off there in his voice as he turned back to his bag, grabbing a change of clothes.

We hadn’t had sex in a while, so I guess I could see him being frustrated, but we just didn’t have a lot of sex in general. Every couple of months was just fine for both of us—we were both busy, and we’d moved out of the new-couple phase a while ago. Was he hoping we’d catch up with some kind of vacation marathon starting the second we got to the suite?

Or, more likely, I was tired and imagining things. Or most likely of all, he had a million other things on his mind, like everybody else in the world, and it was something completely unrelated.

Still, we probably were supposed to have sex at some point over this vacation. It hadn’t really occurred to me… it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy sex with him, but I’d gotten comfortable with the pace we had. And having some kind of arbitrary timeframe placed on our sex life made it awkward and uncomfortable.

Whatever. We’d cross that bridge when we came to it. For now, he had a shower to take, and I had an article to finish.