3. Zach
“Fuck yes.” Zach muttered the words under his breath as he stepped through the doors of the Martinique Aimé Césaire International Airport and into the heat. This was exactly what he needed. Two weeks away in the most stunning place imaginable, preferably with some sort of fruity, tiny-umbrellaed drink in his hand at least ninety percent of his waking hours.
That other ten percent was, of course, reserved for the spa.
Zach made his way out from beneath the overhang, letting the sunlight wash over his skin. The arrivals terminal was a gently curving two-lane road—one lane for all the idling cars, the other just wide enough for other vehicles to squeak by. A row of tall, skinny palm trees swayed in a gentle island breeze on the other side of the road.
God, this place couldn’t have been more different from Logan Airport in Boston, where he’d been only that morning. Logan was a huge, sprawling maze with lines that could drive the most patient person to frustration. Trying to find your ride at arrivals was like searching for a needle in a haystack, combined with a real-life game of Frogger, just for funsies.
But this . . .
Oh yes, he could get used to this.
His need to be at the Manor every single day these last several years seemed like a faraway memory as he rolled his suitcase up to the taxi stand.
A tall man in gray shorts, a pink T-shirt, and flip-flops pushed his way in front of Zach at the last moment. Zach had to jump back to keep the guy from plowing into him, and yet he didn’t have enough shame to so much as throw a perfunctory apology over his shoulder.
“Excuse you,” Zach said, planting his hands on his hips.
The man looked back at him, brows pulling together when he saw Zach’s glare.
Zach kept right on glaring, ignoring the way a thousand butterflies seemed to have just taken flight in his stomach. Well, trying to ignore it anyway.
Hello, Mr. Sexy.
Good God, this man was yummy, with full lips, a sharp jawline, and a five o’clock shadow that left Zach weak in the knees. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes gave the impression he was more prone to smiles than his current scowl. And he had just enough muscle that Zach felt certain this man could hold him down no matter how hard he struggled.
Okay, where did he sign up for that?
Dragging his mind out of the gutter, he met the stranger’s cinnamon brown eyes. Lord almighty, those eyelashes would be his downfall if he wasn’t careful.
Focus, damnit.
The man let his gaze scan Zach up and down, taking in the light gray slacks and matching vest, the white button up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and the bow tie patterned with bright orange birds of paradise. “You look hot.”
Zach’s brain needed to be rebooted like a frozen computer. “I—excuse me?”
Mr. Sexy ran a single finger down the center of Zach’s chest, stopping that reboot right in the middle. He was reaching full system failure territory. “Your clothes,” he clarified. “You must be burning up. You do know you’re in the Caribbean, right? Shouldn’t you at least be wearing sandals?”
It felt like a line of fire burned straight through his clothes where Mr. Sexy had traced with his fingertip, but that question at least got his brain somewhat working again. “Sandals with Tom Ford?” Zach couldn’t have sounded more disgusted if someone had suggested he lick the ground beneath their feet. He’d gotten this ensemble for a steal on eBay and planned a trip to NYC shortly afterwards to get it altered by his favorite tailor. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with something so precious. “Are you joking?”
Mr. Sexy’s answering smile was absolutely devastating. For a few seconds, Zach forgot how to breathe. “I’m sorry, did you need something?”
Mouth suddenly dry, Zach managed to say, “You cut me off.” None of the fire remained in his voice. “But, uh, you can have this cab if you want. I’m okay waiting.”
Now where did that come from? He’d never been particularly confrontational, but he sure as hell didn’t bend over backward for rude people just because they were pretty.
Even when they were so pretty it was like looking at the sun.
Zach was about to regroup and (potentially, maybe, if he could stop staring at those lips) stand his ground, when the lips in question shifted into an apologetic half-smile. How could Zach possibly be expected to concentrate when he went and did shit like that?
The man ran a hand through his light brown hair, which had gone a mix of gray and white at the temples. If Zach had to guess, he looked about forty. And goddamn, did forty look good on him. “Apologies,” Mr. Sexy said, stepping out of the way and sweeping an arm toward the waiting cab. He was so much prettier when he smiled. “I have a tendency to focus entirely on my goal and ignore everything else. One of my many faults, though the people I date never seem to complain.”
He winked. He actually fucking winked. And Zach thought he literally might die.
His mind spun for something suave and flirty to say. This hottie was obviously gay. His eyebrows were waxed, for fuck’s sake. And whoever did his mani-pedis was a fucking pro. His nails looked perfect without seeming overly feminine.
A vacation fling suddenly seemed like the perfect way to get over Mason. Or at least forget about him for a while.
But something about this guy made him feel like an awkward teenager all over again. The only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Oh, okay.” He walked past Mr. Sexy and handed his bag off to the impatient taxi driver like a fucking idiot.
What the fuck are you doing? he screamed in his head. Whirling back around, he opened his mouth to say?—
He never got the chance. Mr. Sexy McHottiepants had already gone to the next cab in line. Zach looked that way just in time to see him close the car door.
Well, shit.
“Mister? Are you getting in?”
Zach shifted his gaze over to the now-even-more-impatient driver. “Yeah. Sorry.” With one final glance at the other cab as it maneuvered around them, he climbed into the back seat and shut the door.
“Where you headed?”
“The Diamonds. It’s a resort in?—”
“In Le Diamant. I know where it is.” The driver twisted the knob for the radio, turning up the volume.
Okay then. There clearly wouldn’t be any talking in the next thirty minutes of his life.
Settling back in his seat, he pulled out his phone. He’d signed up for a temporary international plan while sitting in the airport in Boston. It only cost ten bucks a day, and though he had his doubts about how good the signal would be across the island, it was plenty strong this close to the airport.
Pulling up the group chat with Olivia and Nell, his two best friends, he tapped out a quick text.
Sunday 2:37 PM
Oops
Olivia
Oh god
What did you do?
I just met the prettiest man alive
And it may have temporarily turned off my brain
Nell
DETAILS
Mr. Sexy cut in line at the taxi stand
And I got all ready to yell at him
But he just let me have the cab. And his gorgeous eyes made me forget to ask for his number
That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life
And I just let it drive away
Nell
Oh honey ??
Olivia
I bet he’s terrible in bed
You probably just saved yourself a lifetime of bad memories
Nope. Can’t be consoled with lies
Olivia
You’re in paradise. Console yourself with that instead
Nell
And send pics! We’re living vicariously through you
Rolling down his window, Zach took several shots of the tropical trees and flowers as they flew by. The colors mesmerized him—so many intense reds and purples and pinks, yellows and oranges. He sent a few of the pictures in the group chat, smiling at their over-the-top reactions. Then he stared out the window for the rest of the drive, the warm sea air blowing through his hair.
Time to forget about Mr. Sexy and have the best vacation of his life.
The Diamonds was everything Zach dreamed about when planning this trip. Lush tropical gardens surrounded the main building—a four-story structure of a deep salmon pink color, with intricate white iron railings on all the balconies. He walked through the pool area on the way to his room, eyeing the poolside cabanas with their thatched roofs, the loungers with waterproof cushions in bright blues and greens, and the crowded tiki bar forming an island in the middle of the water.
He stopped long enough to take a picture and send it in the group chat, then continued on to his room. He was on the top floor of one of the smaller buildings closer to the beach. These were only three levels, the white siding a beautiful contrast to the red roofs.
A happy, warm feeling filled his chest when he finally let himself into his room. It was decorated in tans and greens and little splashes of pure white, with throw pillows on the bed and sofa in a pattern of bright pink tropical flowers. A single bath towel, folded into the shape of a swan, waited at the end of the bed.
Leaving his suitcase by the door, he crossed the room to the sliding glass door. The tops of several palm trees gave his balcony partial shade. Beyond that, the clearest, most beautiful blue Caribbean Sea went all the way out to the horizon.
Calling this place picture perfect would be an understatement. This was literal fucking paradise.
Taking a few more pictures, he sent them to Olivia and Nell. Then he kicked off his shoes and dropped down on the sofa while he considered his next move.
Between the four-hour drive to Boston, two flights, and the almost three-hour layover in Miami, it had been a long-ass day. He’d be well within his rights to order room service, watch a little TV, and turn in early.
His gaze drifted back to the sliding door. What was the point of coming all the way here just to sit by himself in his room? He could at least go enjoy the day’s final half hour or so of sunlight.
Besides, he wasn’t even thirty yet.
Technically.
He’d better enjoy the last few days of his twenties while he had the chance.