Chapter 4
Trey
Why was green the color most associated with jealousy? For Trey, the only color he saw was white—the exact shade of Catalina’s bikini. He was never more jealous of a garment in his life as it clung tightly to her curves.
When he first spotted her on the beach, the lower half of his jaw almost unhinged from the rest of his skull.
It only proved he could be intimately familiar with his wife’s body and yet still find himself so wrecked at the sight of it he could chew his own arm off from frustration.
As it was, he tripped over a kid playing in the sand nearby and almost stabbed the roof of his mouth with the wooden skewer of a fruit kebab he had picked up from the resort’s afternoon snack buffet.
Being impaled while gawking at his wife wasn’t the way he wanted to go, especially when it wasn’t certain if Catalina would mourn his death or simply kick mounds of sand over his corpse as she strolled by.
This might be a deserving consequence for spying on his own wife—not that he was purposely watching her. It was merely a case of the resort’s private beach area only being so big. Also, his eyes were always drawn to her, even during those occasions when she wasn’t wearing a bikini.
Trying to appear casual, Trey leaned against a beach cabana bar top.
He waved away the bartender, choosing to finish the fruit kebab and moodily stew at the whole situation.
From this safe distance, he allowed himself to take out his phone and snap a picture of Cat strolling along the shoreline.
She was picture perfect as the wind gently teased her hair.
A beach ball bumped into one of her shapely calves, and she bent to take it, returning it to a small child nearby.
As she handed the ball back, she smiled at the kid and laughed at something said to her, looking like the woman he’d been missing in recent months—the one who was quick to smile and warm to everyone, including strangers.
Maybe this distance between them, both figuratively and literally, was better for her, but he hated it.
Taking a vacation hadn’t been the solution he thought it was going to be.
Instead, they needed to be locked in a room where she’d be allowed to take potshots at him until there wasn’t any anger left.
Maybe Catalina would finally listen. Perhaps then she might allow him to rip off that damn white bikini and let him take her until both of them were wrung out.
Trey panicked when she strolled to the same cabana bar as him.
He didn’t have any sort of cover, fearful she’d discover him spying, and he shifted a nearby floral arrangement in front of him.
Except the few sprigs of fuchsia orchids wouldn’t hide a child, let alone a big, hulking asshat like himself. It was a pitiful attempt.
When she arrived at the opposite end of the bar, she picked up the drinks menu without noticing him. The bartender approached, saying something in Spanish. Without looking up from the menu she replied, “Can I just have a cranberry juice, please?”
“No margarita? Come on, you’re on vacation.
Live a little, honey.” This was said by another resort guest, a chiseled guy with slicked black hair.
Fresh drops of water and sand dotted his tanned chest, as though he’d just emerged from the ocean like a male version of Venus.
Now the manbeast stood prowling over his wife.
The shades of white in Trey’s vision were sparking brighter with jealousy.
“Sorry?” she asked while adjusting her bikini top strap. Her expression conveyed confusion, as if she didn’t understand why a man would be telling her anything, let alone begging for her attention.
Unlike her, Trey was not confused. The skewer gripped in his left hand became a potential weapon. While he was normally laid-back, there was a part of him wanting to John Wick roll across the bar top and jab the skewer through the other man’s hand before using his thighs to choke him out.
“Get lost,” Catalina said in response to whatever else the man had said while Trey hadn’t been paying attention. In response, the asshole called her a crude name before stomping through the sand away from the bar.
Dammit! All this happened while Trey had been busy daydreaming, missing his chance to step in to save her from a creep.
It had also been his best opportunity to choke a guy out with his thighs while growling the phrase, Go to sleep.
If he wanted to save his marriage, he needed to be on top of it (and, hopefully, on top of her) a lot more.
Her gaze then zeroed in on him from the other side of the bar.
His muscles froze as though he’d been caught.
Her eyes were so intensely dark he was afraid she’d developed the power of psychokinesis and could get him to jab the skewer into his own right hand—which would be unfortunate because it was the same hand he’d become good friends with these last few months as a result of their growing distance.
Trey let an easy smile sweep across his features in an attempt not to show any fear. “Hey, Cat. Fancy seeing you here. Come to this bar often?”
“Are you watching me?”
“What? No. I… I was just hanging out and—I didn’t see anything.”
Her gaze narrowed in his direction. “Well? Did I pass the test?”
“Test?” Was this a test right now? His brain scrambled for the correct answer.
“The faithfulness test. With that guy.”
Oh. It finally clicked. He wished the accusation had never popped from his mouth that fateful night.
It hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all.
The words had burst out without any consideration of the implication in all their gloriously messy form.
He hadn’t even believed it. He loved Catalina. It was just that…
It didn’t matter. Because once the allegation had been made, it set off an explosion of consequences. They were the only words that had penetrated her hard shell and festered like a wound.
“No. No test. I guess you told him,” he said with a weak smile.
She hadn’t moved from her position at the bar, leaning against the edge of it and taking a sip from her cranberry juice. Since she remained, he took a similar nonchalant position beside her. He could finally observe the white bikini close up.
When his eyes met hers again, she glared. “Like what you see?”
He held the empty wooden skewer in between his fingers like a cigarette as he leaned an elbow against the bar, pretending he wasn’t on the edge of a plank about to be shoved into shark-infested waters. “I do, but then I always like what I see. Is it new?”
“It isn’t old.”
“I feel like you have an unfair advantage. If I had known this was the assignment, I would’ve bought a white mankini. Do you think the little shop next door will have one?”
“Think that’ll help?” she asked in a cynical tone.
“Couldn’t hurt. I’m already in the doghouse. My raw sexuality might be the only thing I have left.”
Releasing a soft scoff, she rolled her eyes. “If that’s all you have, you’re in a world of hurt, pal. You think that works on me anymore?”
Her words pained him, but he laughed it off. “If you’re so confident, take me back to the room and find out. Why waste a perfectly good bikini?”
She glanced down at his body before meeting his eyes again as though she had the ability to leave a blaze of flames along the pathway of her vision.
Despite the current situation, Catalina and Trey never had this type of antagonistic relationship before.
While he hated being in the doghouse, so to speak, he found this unquestionably hot.
Her standing there with a hand on her hip and her eyes sparking led to his body having a physical response, each muscle poised and tight, ready for action.
He wanted to take her on the freaking bar top.
Maybe Catalina was also feeling something, as her breath quickened.
She wet her lips with her tongue before her beautiful mouth opened to reply to him.
The bartender interrupted, addressing his wife.
Trey didn’t understand Spanish, but he got the impression the bartender was asking if he was bothering her.
“No, it’s okay,” she responded before sighing. “He was just leaving. Weren’t you, Trey?” The spell had been broken.
“You’re really going to stick with this separate vacation thing, Cat?”
“What I need is space. Are you going to give it to me or not?”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, but…” What was he supposed to say? The defensiveness, the wall, was resurrected between them again. A moment of frustration flared inside his chest because everything felt stacked against him. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. You can have your space.”
Unexpectedly, her face fell, her gaze dropping. Perhaps she wanted him to keep fighting, but he was tired of it. What exactly did she want from him? He kept trying to give it all to her, every bit of himself, and she hadn’t wanted any of it.
“I looked it up,” he added. “The presentation we need to go to is at 10 AM tomorrow in Ballroom A. We’re going to that. Together.”
Her stance hardened again, but they both knew she’d make good on her word. “Fine,” she replied. “I’ll meet you there.”
After breakfast the next morning, as promised, Catalina waited for him in front of Ballroom A.
Part of the room was set up with chairs in an audience and single speaker layout.
There was a large monitor on the wall and, for some reason, posters of space.
The other half of the room was set up with small tables and chairs, some of them already occupied.
“Hi. Hello. Welcome,” said a woman wearing glasses and a jacket in a tropical print, holding a tablet. “Can I get your names?”