11. Chapter 11
Groveling is best done on your knees.
I sleep in the next day since I’d stayed up reading till two in the morning.
Juli Mack, a.k.a. Juliette McNamara, is a damn talented writer.
The plot had blown my mind with its twists and turns.
I’d even downloaded the next book in the series because I’m dying to know what happens with the next couple.
After eating a protein bar and doing my morning workout, I head down to Swing On In for lunch. When Juliette doesn’t make an appearance, I have another tray of food delivered to her cottage.
Then I change into my navy swim trunks with a white tropical leaf pattern and head to the beach. Finding an open lounge chair, I settle in to read the next book in Juliette’s series.
Two hours later, I reach a particularly spicy scene, and her words from yesterday pop into my head. You probably couldn’t handle what I like in the bedroom anyway.
Fuck me, that was so goddamn hot. After reading her stuff, I think I know exactly what she likes in the bedroom, and I think I’m exactly the man to inspire her. My cock rages inside my trunks, and I set my phone down and close my eyes.
I’ve heard the term one-handed read before, and I completely understand the phrase now. More than once I’d had to take care of business while reading last night.
Not exactly something I can do out here on the beach, so I make my way into the ocean, hoping the cool water will help with my erection situation. I dive beneath the surface, and the water is so clear, I can see schools of brightly colored fish darting away from my intrusion into their world.
I should see if Juliette wants to go snorkeling. Which would be a fine idea if she were actually speaking to me , I think sardonically. After a long swim, I walk out of the water and shake my head to sling some of the wetness from my hair.
As I pass two men with their lounge chairs pushed close together, one of them says, “Um, excuse me?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask, and he pulls down his aviator sunglasses to reveal hazel eyes.
“This may sound weird, but… are you Reno Swain? The hockey player?”
I give the man a smile. “I am.” He turns to his partner with an I told you so look, and I chuckle. I had seen a few people staring at me and figured they probably recognized me, but no one at this resort had mentioned it until now. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that on the down low though.”
He mimed locking his lips and tossing away the key. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m a huge fan, by the way.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” We talk hockey for a couple minutes, shake hands, and then I go back to my spot.
Reclining the chair all the way, I lie on my stomach and read another eight chapters before calling it a day.
On my way back up the sandy path to the resort, I remember that it’s Wednesday, and Juliette had said we should wear pink.
After mentally scrolling through the clothes I’d packed, I realize I hadn’t brought anything pink, so I veer toward the main lodge.
In the gift shop, I purchase a pink polo with the Pineapple Island Resort and Spa logo on the chest and head to my cottage. I don’t even know why I did that. I probably won’t even see Juliette tonight.
That thought bothered me more than it should. I barely knew this woman and yet… I wanted to .
While rinsing off beneath the outdoor shower on my back porch, my eyes stayed glued next door looking for any sign of movement. Her light’s on in what I assume is her bedroom, but otherwise, I see nothing.
Sighing, I close my eyes and lean my head back to rinse the salt water from my hair.
Then I strip off my shorts and turn beneath the spray, washing off thoroughly before grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around my waist. I’ll take a better shower inside, but I hate the dry feeling on my skin after getting out of the ocean and wanted to at least clean the salt and sand off me.
Once I've dried a bit, I toss my shorts over the railing before going inside and hanging up my new shirt. When my phone pings with a text, I almost trip over my own feet to get to where I’d tossed it on the bed.
My head gets tangled in that drapey shit that’s hanging from the posts of the bed, and I curse until I manage to free myself.
It’s not from her. I try not to feel disappointed that it’s my friend and teammate, Marcus.
Marcus: Hey, I’m with Lane. Got a minute to FaceTime?
Me: Yeah, hit me up.
A few seconds later, we’re connected, and I smile at my buddies.
“Whoa, dude. You are tan,” Lane drawls. “You’re almost as dark as me.”
I glance down and see the sharp demarcation of my tan line around my waist as I lean back against the dresser. “Yeah, I got some sun today.”
“You’re not naked are you?” Marcus asks, and I slowly lower my phone down my bare abdomen, singing a little burlesque tune as I do. He covers his eyes and groans in misery. “God, please make it stop.”
I laugh and raise the phone back to my face. “Kidding. I have a towel on. I just got back from the beach.”
“How is the resort?” Lane asks. “Is it nice?”
“Oh, it’s very nice,” I say, lifting an eyebrow as I lead up to the bombshell I’m about to drop on them. “It’s also a swingers’ resort.”
Eyes widen and mouths gape on my phone screen. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Marcus breathes. “Your ex booked your honeymoon at a swingers’ resort? ”
“Yup. Sure did,” I assure him.
Lane shakes his head, lips turning up into a sneer. “That’s some next level fuckery right there.” He chuckles. “Not that I wouldn’t trade places with you in a heartbeat. Unlike you, I’m not opposed to group activities.”
Marcus strokes his stubble thoughtfully. “Has anyone recognized you? Because I’m not sure how this would play out in the press.”
“I think a few people have, but only one guy has come right out and asked me. I don’t think it will be a problem because everyone here seems pretty chill.” I shrug. “It’s like they respect other people’s privacy like they want theirs respected.”
“I can see that,” Lane muses. “If they blab that you’re there, they have to admit that they went to an adult resort as well.”
“So I’m assuming you’re not… participating?” Marcus asks.
“I’m not.”
My friends eye each other. “He hesitated,” Lane points out.
“I did not hesitate,” I insist.
They ignore me. “I definitely sensed some hesitation there,” Marcus notes.
“Uh-huh. It was like pause - I’m not .”
Their gazes return to me, and I roll my eyes. “Fine. There’s a woman here that’s caught my interest.”
They lean forward, faces as eager as junior high girls at a sleepover. “Tell us.”
Rubbing a hand over my still damp hair, I say, “Her name is Juliette, and she looks like a fucking Barbie doll.” Lane rolls his hand to indicate that I should continue. “She’s pretty amazing. She has this personality that’s so sweet and funny.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Marcus asks with a smirk.
“We hung out yesterday and made out for a while. I thought things were going great—headed in a certain direction, you know—but we had a… disagreement or something when we got back to her cottage.” I scrub at my temple with my fingertips.
“Fuck, I don’t even know what went wrong, and now I can’t get her off my mind. ”
Lane’s forehead creases. “What kind of disagreement?”
I walk them through our conversation, and the furrows in Lane’s face grow deeper. “Let me get this right. You actually told this Juliette chick if it wasn’t for her lifestyle, you’d be interested in having something with her after your vacation?”
“Well, yeah. I was trying to be up front with her so she didn’t have any expectations, and she said she didn’t want anything serious either. She seemed to want me as much as I wanted her. And then…” I shrug because I’m still a bit perplexed by her reaction.
My buddies share another look before turning back to me. Marcus smirks. “Dude, you know you’re not supposed to chew all the gummies at once, right?”
Lane smacks him in the chest with the back of his hand. “You idiot, he’s on an island. He’s obviously smoking the wacky weed, not eating it.”
“I’m not on any mind-altering substances,” I grind out. “What the fuck are you two talking about?”
Marcus nods at Lane to take over, and he does. “You went too far, see? You should have made it clear that you wanted a vacation fling and not a relationship. Then you shut your mouth. Where you fucked up was bringing her lifestyle into the mix.”
“Agreed,” my other friend says. “It comes across as judgy, which we all know you’re not. People get insulted when you criticize their choices.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” I protest.
“We know,” Marcus soothes, “but it probably came across as I would totally like you enough to pursue something if it wasn’t for this flaw. ”
My frustrated grumble vibrates my chest. “That’s not what the fuck I was trying to do.
I was trying to explain why we had to be temporary without hurting her feelings.
I wanted her to understand she’s, you know, beautiful and sweet and worthy, but I guess I ended up doing the opposite. ” I tug at the back of my neck.
“You were doing the right thing,” Lane says quietly. “You just went about it wrong.”
I clench my molars until the grinding becomes audible. I hate myself for hurting Juliette’s feelings.
My friends share another of those looks that are starting to get on my damn nerves, and Marcus’s lips twitch.
“Why do you even care what her lifestyle choices are? It’s not like you’re going to marry her or something.
People have vacation flings all the time, and as long as both of you are on the same page, you should be fine.
Whatever she does on her own time is her business. ”
“You’re right,” I agree as hope fills my chest. “I need to go talk to her and try to explain.”
“Maybe she would understand if you explained… everything ?” Lane suggests pointedly, and I try not to grimace.
“I’ll see how it goes.” I give them a grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. I think I just needed a fresh pair of eyes and ears. I appreciate you both, but I really need to run. I’ve got some groveling to do.”
“One last thing,” Marcus says before I disconnect.
“What’s that?” I ask, a little impatient as a plan begins to take shape.
A sly smile creeps across his face. “Remember that groveling is best done on your knees.”
I bust into the gift shop as the clerk is counting the money in her register.
“Oh, Mr. Swain,” she says in surprise, her eyes dropping to my torso. “Is there something wrong with your shirt? It seems to fit well.”
I glance down at the hot-pink shirt I’d thrown on after the quickest shower in history.
“No, it’s fine. I just need some flowers.” Gesturing to the cooler in the back, I ask, “Is it too late?”
The woman, whose name tag reads Karissa, smiles. “Not at all. Are these for Juliette?”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Oh, uh, yeah.”
“I thought they might be. I saw you two having lunch together. She is such a sweetheart. Always a smile for everyone she meets.”
Except for me right now.
We head to the glass case at the back and cool air hits my face when she opens the door. My eyes scan over the floral arrangements. They’re all nice but not what I’m looking for.
“Do you have anything… bigger?” I gesture with my hands.
Karissa’s lips twist to the side. “Hmmm, no, but what if we combine a couple of these into a bigger vase?”
“Yes!” I practically shout in agreement.
She giggles. “I just got some new ones today. Hold on.”
I inspect the arrangements and choose two multicolored ones I really like before the clerk returns from the storeroom with two glass vases.
“We have this red one, which is super elegant, and then this aqua one with a pearlescent finish.” She holds them both up for my perusal, and I point at the aqua one.
“That one. It matches her eyes.”
Karissa flashes a knowing smile. “Fantastic. And which flowers would you like?” I point them out, and she beams at me. “Those match her personality perfectly. Just all bright and full of sunshine.”
I help her carry everything into the storeroom and watch in fascination as she goes to work, rearranging the flowers and making a new bow with shiny purple ribbon.
“How’s that?” she asks, stepping back and tilting her head in appraisal.
“It’s a masterpiece,” I assure her. “Thank you so much for staying late and doing this. Can you charge it to my room? Cottage five.”
“Certainly, and I’m happy to help. I love seeing new love blossom.”
Her brown eyes go all dreamy, and I don’t have the heart to tell her these aren’t love flowers. They’re more like I’m in the doghouse flowers.
I pick up the vase and give the sweet clerk a side-hug. “Thanks again, Karissa. This is even better than I imagined.”
As I walk out, I hear her say, “Go get her, tiger!”