Chapter 6
Things are getting steamy in my book. Anthony and Lydia are falling in bed… and in love. I know that psycho drama-llama, ho-bag of a whore Cassandra is going to throw a wrench in everything.
“Has there been any bodice ripping yet?” the chair thief asks.
I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and ignore him.
Do. Not. Engage.
“Did the hero tear open the heroine’s blouse, her buttons fling to the floor—exposing her round, heaving bosom?”
I hold my book closer to my face, inches from my nose.
“Her aching, needy breasts?” he asks.
Clenching my teeth, I slam my eyes shut.
“Creamy love jugs?”
I drop my book onto my lap with a huff and shoot him a contemptuous glare.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Too much?” he asks with humor.
“Waaaay too much.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry,” I tell him.
“Not really. I got you to talk to me.”
“This isn’t talking.”
“It’s not?” he asks, amused.
“No. It’s me calling you out as an ass.”
“You think I’m an ass?”
“I know you’re an ass.”
“Maybe.” He chuckles. “But I got you to speak to me. That makes me a smart ass.”
“Smart ass,” I muse. “Yeah. It fits.”
As I settle back into reading my book, my lounge chair neighbor disrupts my peace again, serenading me with a rendition of Dire Straits’ “Sultans of Swing.”
Lowering my book, I shoot him a disapproving frown. “Excuse me?”
“Over there.” He gestures towards an older man, who is juggling two drinks and sporting a T-shirt that barely covers his midriff, wearing animal print men’s bikini briefs that are clearly a size too small. “I think his balls forgot gravity exists.”
“You interrupted my reading again so I can look at some random guy?” I ask incredulously, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with the guy’s cheetah printed man bump. It looks like he’s smuggling a lumpy sweet potato, with two water balloon nuts that swish side to side down there.
“Thought you might need a visual for the romantic hero.”
Not the visual I had in mind. Not the visual anyone has in mind.
I mean, the tip of his… God, the tip is right there on the verge of escaping. The guy is one wrong move away from unleashing the one-eyed monster out on an unsuspecting world.
The world’s not ready.
“Do me a favor… don’t think for me,” I tell him.
“You don’t like Walter?” he asks.
“Who’s Walter?”
“The guy with the swinging sultans.”
“You know him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know his name?”
“I don’t. I gave it to him. Lord Walter Gonadison, ruler of Ballsackistan. It’s a secluded island off the Irish coast.”
“You made it up?”
“It’s a little game I like to play when I people watch. Guess their story. Care to join me in a round?”
I cast my eyes back to Walter. The guy looks like a half-naked boozy cheetah with jiggling bits. “Ahh… no.”
“Your loss.”
“Are you body shaming this guy?” I ask.
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re talking about his body parts.”
“Did you read his T-shirt?” He angles his head in Walter’s direction.
No, I didn’t read it. His man junk was kinda distracting. I steal a quick peek at Walter and read his shirt.
“If a guy wears a shirt that says ‘Let’s Talk About My Big Balls’ and has an arrow pointing south,” my lounge chair adversary explains. “He’s got a pretty good sense of humor and is okay with them being a conversation starter.”
Well, yeah. Weird, but probably true. Still. It’s not a conversation I care to have. Ever.
“Are you always this irritating?” I ask.
“You mispronounced irresistible.”
“Listen, guy…”
“Daniel.” He offers his hand.
I stare down at his offering, then back up at him. “Do you seriously think that I’ll shake the hand of the man who stole my chair and polluted my airspace?”
“Bygones.” He flashes a wide, charming grin.
“I’d prefer you say bye—then be gone.”
He drapes his arm over his bare chest, with his hand resting over his heart. “You wound me.”
“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking to me… I may have to go that route.”
He shakes his head in amusement and laughs.
“You think I’m kidding?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’re not.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m taking a dip in the pool. Try not to miss me too much.”
I hold my book up to my nose and pretend to read. “Adios. Don’t rush back.”
He stands, placing his sunglasses and baseball cap on his lounger.
Glancing discreetly over my book, I can’t help but admire him. His eyes, no longer bloodshot, are as vibrant blue as the Caribbean Sea. And those six-pack abs, perfectly sculpted, and absolutely delicious. His strong, chiseled jawline and flawless complexion make him the epitome of perfection.
The man is edible.
An edible jackass.
If there were only a way to make him stand there and look pretty while keeping his lips permanently sealed.
Though, I admit… he’s got a lady-killer smile.
He dives into the water, creating a splash big enough to hit the bottom of my lounger. Normally, that’d set me off on a pool etiquette tangent—but it’s so damn hot, the cool water is a welcome reprieve from the heat.
Clearing my throat, I snap myself out of admiring my seat-stealing vacation nemesis and turn my focus back to my book. I may not have had sex in months and I’m a little hard up, but that shouldn’t cloud my judgment on men. I’m here to work on me.
Me.
Not to revenge fuck the first guy who talks to me.
Even if he’s easy on the eyes.
And grating on the ears.
Stealthily peeking over my sunglasses, I spot Daniel at the swim-up bar, having a lively conversation with Lily. She looks adorable in a pair of braids and dark-rimmed sunglasses. As she sips her drink from a coconut with a long straw, she nods enthusiastically in agreement with something he said.
The handsome jerk is clearly on the prowl, probably feeding her some bullshit sweet-talking lines. She’s an easy target. Wide-eyed. Na?ve.
She’ll be in his bed by lunchtime.
I shake my head and return to my book.
Mind your business, Tess. It’s not your problem.
I’m finally getting to the spicy part of my novel when something inside me—something moronic, for sure—compels me to peek up again.
Lily is talking a mile a minute between sips of her coconut concoction. Daniel nods and smiles as she speaks, giving her his undivided attention.
My heart pounds in my chest as I study his muscular chest and that handsome face.
No. No. No.
Do not admire the enemy. Even from afar.
Quickly, I refocus my attention on my book.
After reading the same sentence five times over because my reading comprehension has been reduced to ‘nonexistent’ thanks to my attractive adversary across the pool, I close my book and set it down under my chair. I lower the lounge chair until it’s in the flat position and lie down. Taking hold of the brim of my white straw hat, I tug it down to shield my face.
“Crap, it’s hot.” I sit up from the nap I didn’t plan on taking with my hair clinging to my face and a long white beach towel spread over my legs. When did I do that? I wiggle a little in my chair. The towel I brought with me is still under me.
Weird.
Grabbing the towel by the edges, I whip it off my legs. My skin is blotchy and pink. Dammit. Did I forget to slather up my legs with suntan lotion?
I look to my side. My nemesis is relaxing in his lounger, a pair of earbuds plugged in his ears, bopping his head as he stares out at the pool action.
“Hey,” I say.
He continues bopping to whatever beat is pounding between his ears.
“Yo. Daniel,” I call out louder.
He closes his eyes, silently mouthing the words, and air drums a solo. It’s so dorky… it’s kinda adorable.
Reaching through our invisible table barrier, I tap his shoulder. He opens his eyes and gives me a chin nod.
“Did you…,” I begin.
He raises his index finger, silently gesturing for me to hold on, before tapping his phone screen and removing an earbud. “You talking to me?”
“I may live to regret it, but yeah, I am.”
“What do you want?”
“Do you know who did this?” I point to the towel previously spread over my legs.
“Towel fairy?”
“That’s you trying to be funny again, isn’t it?”
“No. That’s me being funny again.”
“Seriously. Where did this towel come from?”
He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Want a drink? The server is heading this way.” He raises an arm and motions to get her attention.
I lean back in my chair and exhale a breath. “Sure. But this doesn’t negate our barrier wall agreement.”
“You mean the wall you breached a second ago?” he asks.
“Chalk it up to temporary insanity.”
“Maybe.” He raises a sly brow. “Or maybe you like my company.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. The wall just gained another foot in height.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He laughs. “What’s your poison?”