Chapter 3
Juli
“Okay, so Cameron’s a hottie. You ever tap that?”
Thank goodness I had already swallowed the sip of mai tai before Erica asked the question. With my luck, I would have choked and regurgitated my lunch all over the pool deck.
When I told her and Jonah to eat without me, she readily agreed, but only because she wanted to give me time to settle in my room and would meet me at the pool afterward.
I inquired if any of the other guests had arrived, to which she gave me some convoluted answer that in no way answered my question of whether anyone else was here.
Since she didn’t seem concerned about spending time with just me, I dropped the subject.
After checking in—and being upgraded to my very own suite—I had to lie down, needing to shake off the flight and seeing Cameron so soon after arriving. Can’t a girl at least get checked in before being sandbagged to interact with such a force of nature that is Cameron Fairbanks?
The medium brown hair, slightly longer than when I saw him last.
The light scruff on his jaw.
His trim build, the striking green eyes, the tan skin, the abs under his shirt.
I assume he’s got abs. Fourteen years ago, he had filled out more than when I first met him, with a hint of definition in his abdomen. Now, the way he filled out the T-shirt he was wearing, I’m guessing he exercises. This close to the ocean, no doubt he takes advantage of water sports.
I didn’t mean to actually fall asleep, but I guess I was more drained than I thought.
I woke to a pounding on the door, and I found Erica on the other side of it once I came to.
She marched in, dug through my bag, and produced my bikini, shoving it in my arms and forcing me to the bathroom to change.
When I protested about food, she declared, “They serve food at the pool.”
We’re currently sitting on lounge chairs at the pool closest to my suite.
A handful of palm trees spaced out along the sundeck provide minimal shade, creating the perfect spot for relaxation and soaking up the sun.
The poolside bar offers a variety of cocktails, wines, and other local liquors, served by the waitstaff to the loungers.
I started drinking before the food was delivered, but man, that first mai tai went down easy.
As well as the second one. Sated with food, I’m taking the third one a little slower, sipping on the straw, finagling a way not to answer her question.
Or at least give her an answer that makes it seem like I haven’t not “tapped that” without her seeing straight past my lie.
“Cameron didn’t see me as anything but Preston’s little sister. There were days I think he considered me to be his sister.”
Which may have been true the first few years. But not the last. Merely thinking about it warms me from the inside out. Or maybe that’s the alcohol. Or the sun beating down on us.
Yeah, not Cameron.
“But you wanted to?” Erica’s eyes bore into me, waiting for my answer. My only saving grace is she’s buying the lie.
“It may have crossed my mind a time or two.”
Or a couple hundred. Until it became a reality.
She waggles her brows. “Would Preston have defriended him if Cameron had put the moves on his little sister?”
“Most likely not. He wasn’t one of those protective brothers who’d put out a hit had someone looked at me the wrong way. As long as I’m happy and the guy isn’t a dick, he keeps his mouth shut.”
She’s quiet for a minute, her mind working through something. I predict what she’s going to say before she says it. But I wait for her to say something.
Erica and I met at a small liberal arts college in the middle of Michigan. I ended up there because they had an awesome graphic design program, and I didn’t make the cut at my reach school. In hindsight, I wouldn’t change my decision to attend Silverpine College—I had the best time.
Erica was a friend of my roommate’s junior year, a transfer from an even smaller college somewhere in another Midwest state.
Originally from Nebraska, I could never understand how she ended up in cold Michigan, even for two years, but for whatever reason, she did.
And survived the winters. I’m not one to talk much, since I grew up in Georgia, but I like the cold, whereas Erica can’t stand it.
Hence, a South Carolina wedding in August.
“What was that guy’s name? The one who was a dick and totally not good for you?”
“Rico.” His name exits my lips on a sneer.
I knew he was wrong from the minute I met him, but I had something to prove during that phase of my life.
Or I thought I did. The ten percent when he wasn’t a dick, he could be sweet, and I swear his penis was magical.
That man could draw orgasms out of me like nobody’s business.
Great. Another man’s making me all hot and bothered, for a different reason than the first.
“What was Preston’s opinion of him?”
I cluck my lips. “Not sure he ever met him.” A half-lie. They never met in person, but Preston had some words when he met him over FaceTime. Fortunately, I had already decided I wasn’t cut out to be the girlfriend of a “bad boy” and dumped him. Right after I let him fuck me into oblivion.
“I bet Cameron’s good in bed.”
I yelp. “What?” I’m not sure I understood her correctly. Why is she suddenly so interested in Cameron? “You’re getting married.”
Erica rests against the lounge chair, but her head turns toward me. “Jonah’s pretty vanilla. Nothing like what Naomi writes about.”
I sit up, my legs straddling the sides of the chair, in no way prepared to have this conversation with her.
Even if Cameron wasn’t involved. No. No way.
I don’t want to know about how vanilla Jonah is in bed.
And yet, I find myself saying, “Like how vanilla?” followed quickly by, “No, do not answer that. I mean it, Erica. Don’t do it. ”
My pulse quickens, driven by the three mai tais circulating through, not to mention a certain recreation director.
Speak of the devil.
“Shit.”
Erica doesn’t miss it, of course, and now she’s sitting up straighter, her head tracking where I stare.
She sighs. “Yeah, he’d be good. Look at the way his hips swagger.”
Funny thing, I noticed that, too. Because yeah.
The man definitely has swagger. Which he didn’t have years ago.
Perhaps our one night could be akin to Jonah being vanilla in bed.
But what we lacked physically, Cameron made up for in other ways.
There was definitely a spark, an ignited connection that night, even though the act itself was less than stellar.
Watching him now though, he’s definitely grown up, and if given the chance, I wonder if he’d be better.
What am I saying? Of course, he’d be better. It’s been years! The man has stepped up his game for sure.
“Why is your face all red?”
“Need more sunscreen.” The lie falls easily from my lips, though it’s probably not a bad idea. Besides, there’s no way—none whatsoever—that Erica and I can continue this conversation.
“Hey, babe.”
Oh, thank fuck.
Erica and I crane our necks to see Jonah behind us. I’m saved from having to continue this conversation. However, the only thing I can see and think about is how he’s vanilla in bed. That’s not a good thing.
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
“I was thinking maybe we should go rest for a bit before dinner with our parents. Mom and Dad just arrived, and I know yours will be here soon. If you don’t want to sleep, at least come back to the room with me for other stuff.”
I throw up a little in my mouth at his insinuation.
Erica’s face flames red. “I told you we could do that on the honeymoon,” she grits out. “We aren’t married yet, Jonah.”
My vision volleys between the two of them, watching as her implication finally sinks in for Jonah. “Oh, right. Yeah. That’s not what I meant, but thanks for reminding me. Gotta get some lube.”
Gross.
I fly my hands to my ears, shutting out the rest of the conversation by humming. I don’t want to think about any of what we’re talking about. Not even a little. A shudder flows through me, sending a chill down my entire spine.
“Juliana!” Eyes wide open, Jonah and Erica are standing in front of me, a seductive smirk on Jonah’s lips, Erica’s face still red. “We’re going to go. Catch up with you tomorrow?”
“Sure, yeah. Text me.” Erica nods, and they walk away, Erica’s bag slung over Jonah’s shoulder, their hands interlaced.
My heart twitches in my chest. Despite our conversation, I’m happy for her.
I know relationships are a lot of work, but it’s what I want for myself.
A man to be there by my side. To carry my towel for me.
Heck, to make our friends embarrassingly awkward when we talk about sex. Yep, sign me up for it all.
It’s too bad all the guys I’ve ever dated have not been long-term boyfriend material. Hell, so many of them have barely lasted a month.
My mom tells me I’m closed off, not open for love, but I don’t believe her.
If I found a man like Jonah is to Erica, I’d definitely be open to it.
The all-encompassing, sickeningly sweet kind of love.
The one that withstands the test of time.
The man to who you say “I do.” Is that too much to ask for?
“Jude.”
“Came.” It doesn’t register what I’m saying until the word is out of my mouth. “Shit. Cameron. Sorry.” What is wrong with me? Why does he make me so nervous?
“Doing a little day-drinking?”
I tilt my glasses down. “I’m on vacation. It’s allowed.” Oops, my tone has a little edge to it, and that may have been harsh.
Cameron waves off my apology. “No judgment here. As long as you don’t get sloppy drunk, you’re good.
You wouldn’t believe the guests we’ve had to clean up after.
Well, not ‘we’ as in me, but the staff. Not pretty.
Not. Pretty.” He shakes his head as he lowers himself onto the lounger.
I’m still sitting with my legs spread wide on each side of the chair, and his knees are awfully close to my left thigh.
“What’s in your glass?” He swipes it off the table and takes a swig.
My mouth agape, I can’t push any words out, so I sit and continue to stare at him.
“Oh, mai tai. Good choice. Though if you want to know a secret, go see Natasha at The Drift Bar & Grill and ask for a Bushwacker.” His lips smack together, his eyes roll slightly back in his head.
“Not on an empty stomach or you’ll definitely be one of those guests we’re cleaning up after. ”
I have no words, no comeback for what he suggests. I stare at him through my glasses, unable to see his eyes behind the dark lenses of his aviators. The longer we sit and stare, the higher my pulse spikes.
Cameron finally breaks the trance. “Do you like badminton?”
“Huh?” My mouth finally works, but that’s the best I can do.
“Badminton. Net. Racket. Birdies. Kinda a bit like tennis, but slower and definitely not as fast-paced as volleyball, though the object is similar.”
Between three mai tais, the late afternoon sun beating down, and Cameron so close to me, my brain is scrambled. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m certain I don’t understand the appeal of it, but nonetheless, there’s a tournament starting up in about ten minutes. And I’m kinda in charge of it. I don’t have to play, but you could if you want to.”
“Play what now?” I’m so lost. It’s a wonder I’m still standing upright.
Scratch that, sitting.
He playfully slaps my thigh. “Keep up, Jude. Badminton. On the beach. Come with me.” As if the chair was burning his ass, he hops up onto his feet, his right arm outstretched for something.
When I make no move, he hums the Jeopardy tune under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. “Well, you coming or what?”
I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to, but my head slowly nods. For more liquid courage, I gulp down the rest of the contents of the drink, too tipsy to care he sampled it. “Ready.” I walk away, forgetting all my stuff. I slap my forehead. “Hold on.”
I momentarily halt in place. Because wouldn’t you know it, Cameron Fairbanks strides around to the opposite side of my lounger, picks up my bag, and slings it over his shoulder.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it to be true.