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  Before I can say another word, she takes off toward the hotel lobby, leaving me at the bar by myself, the sounds of the fluttering of palm trees and the lap of the ocean my companions, my mind reeling about one thing. Just flings.

  * * *

  I glance up as Milly and Carson sit on blue loungers next to me. Both wearing their bathing suits, both looking entirely too happy . . . particularly Carson.

  Why did I think going on a couples’ vacation was a good idea, especially with my sister?

  Keeping my eyes ahead of me, my glasses thankfully blocking the sun, I say, “Glad you guys could make it out of your room for some air.”

  I don’t have to look to the side to see Milly’s face heat with embarrassment. I know my sister well enough to understand what she gets shy about, and her physical relationship with Carson is one of them.

  “We lost one of Milly’s earrings,” Carson says, stretching out. “Spent a few hours looking for it, then realized, she didn’t bring earrings with her.”

  “Ah, is that what the kids are calling it now? Looking for a lost earring?”

  “Clever, right?” Carson smirks at me.

  “Can we not talk about earrings, please?” Milly asks in embarrassed desperation. “Especially not in front of my brother. It’s humiliating.”

  “It’s not humiliating,” Carson says, quickly sitting up. “Don’t be ashamed for wanting some alone time with your husband.” His voice is firm but loving.

  Backing him up, I say, “He’s right, Mills. Nothing wrong with spending time with your husband, but let’s not get into detail about it with me, huh?”

  “We weren’t getting into detail,” Milly defends.

  “The term ‘looking for earrings’ made my mind wander. I don’t need shit like that.”

  Carson pauses, looks out in the distance, and then chuckles. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to be in your head right now.”

  “Trust me, there’s so much fucked-up stuff going on in my brain right now, and none of it has to do with you two.”

  Milly lets out a distressed breath and faces me, pressing her hand to my arm in concern. “Cory, I’m so sorry. If you want to stay with Carson, I really don’t mind sleeping with Natalie.”

  “After you two just looked for earrings in the sheets?” I cringe. “Nah, I’m good, Mills.”

  “What, you don’t want to look for earrings with me?” Carson asks on a chuckle and then rubs his hand over his face. “Shit, that’s something Jason would say.”

  “Completely,” I say. “He’s gotten to you.”

  Carson looks to the side, checking for Jason and then says, “Don’t let him know; he’ll never let me live it down.”

  “Can’t make any promises.”

  “Are you two done?” Milly asks. “This is serious, Cory. If you want to switch rooms with me, please let me know. I feel terrible that I brought you here, and now you have to share a room with Natalie. I can’t imagine what you might be feeling right now.”

  Looking at the hills covered in palm trees and greens, it feels like we’re in the middle of the Amazon jungle. “She’s divorced.”

  “What?” Milly asks.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Carson tilt his glasses down and ask, “What?”

  I nod. “Yup. I asked her if her husband was going to be okay with us sharing a room, and she said I didn’t need to worry because she’s divorced.”

  “I don’t . . . he was . . . what?” Milly asks, trying to comprehend the news.

  “Apparently they’ve been separated for a while. Didn’t really get too much into it, but all I know is that there is no husband in question.”

  “Was not expecting that,” Carson says, lying back down.

  “Neither was I. How did we not know about this, Carson?”

  “No idea, Mills. Jason isn’t exactly taciturn. Especially surprising given it’s been for a while.”

  Tentatively, Milly asks, “How do you feel about it?”

  “I mean, I like her.”

  “Dude, you more than like her,” Carson says. “You pretty much have heart eyes whenever she’s around.”

  “No, I don’t,” I answer, feeling self-conscious. Shit, do I have heart eyes when she’s around? I mean, I do feel this piece of excitement cracking, coming out of its shell, growing into something more consuming with every minute I spend with her.

  “You kind of do,” Milly says. “Which is totally okay, because I don’t think she knows you well enough to understand you’re not just being friendly.”

  Jesus Christ. Way to be cool, Cory.

  “But that doesn’t matter.” Then she shakes my arm, excitedly. “Cory, she’s available. That means you can make a move.”

  I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?” Carson asks, not facing me, but engaging in the conversation.

  “Because, she told me she’s not interested in a boyfriend, just flings.”

  “Oh shit, yeah, flings are awful. Think of all that sex? God, what a torment you’d have to endure,” Carson deadpans like a smartass.

  The idea of a fling with Natalie makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t imagine what one night, or even a week of sex would be like with her, but then to just toss it away, shake hands, and be on our way? What I know about Natalie, I like, and she’s the first woman I’ve ever thought about having more with. And despite not being ready for retirement, I’m ready for more relationship wise.

  Sitting up, I turn to face them both, hands clasped in front of me. “I don’t want to be her rebound,” I say quietly. “I’m not looking for a one-night stand here, or even a week-long stand. I’m looking for something that’s going to last, that will carry me through the season. I’m looking for someone who will be a partner, by my side . . .” I pause. “Like you two.”

  Both their faces morph into understanding and sympathy.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Natalie is amazing. At least what I know of her, I like. But she’s in a different time in her life. And hell, she’s what, nine years younger than me? She wants to live her mid-twenties life, and I’m looking to settle down.”

  “Are you?” Milly asks. “You’re really looking to settle down?”

  Lips pressed tightly together, hands clasped, I nod. “I mean, the possibility is there. I can see it. I know I’m not really looking for what Natalie is though, so that’s why it’s not going to happen.”

  “You never know,” Milly says. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  I shrug. “Even if she does, she’s not doing it here. So please, don’t try to pull any matchmaking stunts, okay? The last thing I need is for everyone in the group to try to hook us up.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to relax a little,” Carson says. “Maybe a fling will do you some good.”

  “Or maybe a massage,” Milly offers.

  “Massage of his penis,” Carson mutters, only for Milly to smack him in the chest.

  “I’ll switch rooms.”

  Carson just laughs. “Please, Coach. There’s no way you would switch rooms, not after the earring exploration we just went on.”

  Rolling her eyes, Milly leans back in her lounger, a small smile on her face when she says, “Going solo might be the best decision for you, Cory. Trust me.”

  Chapter Eight

  NATALIE

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Force the room to stop spinning.

  “Hello?” Monica’s voice and face pop up on FaceTime.

  Everyone is out at the pool, enjoying some sun and drinks. I escaped, wanting to take a second to gather myself before we go to dinner together tonight. Cory was passed out on his lounger, so I took the opportunity to come to our room by myself.

  Our room.

  Good Lord, how did that happen?

  Oh, I know . . . going on a trip with a bunch of couples, that’s how.

  It’s bad enough watching the girls sitting in their men’s laps on the way here, sipping light champagne
and nuzzling their necks while I awkwardly sat across from Cory. I thought that was bad. Boy, was I wrong.

  No more rooms.

  Not a single one.

  Don’t worry, I checked too. Not that I thought Cory was lying or anything, but I wasn’t sure if my feminine ways could seduce the front desk attendant into checking one last time for an extra room.

  Unfortunately, even a little cleavage couldn’t magnificently produce a free room. So I’m stuck sharing a suite with Cory.

  At least the room is gorgeous. White walls, dark molding and dark furniture with palms scattered through the room and deep turquoise hues. An adjoining living room helps with the space and provides an extra bed, which I’m thankful for. Right off the living room is a screened-in patio with built-in window seats, scattered with pillows and cushions. The view is breathtaking with its bright blue skies, aquamarine water, and pure, white sand. A few open windows, letting the light breeze kick in and the sound of the crashing waves filter into the room, puts my racing heart at peace. At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.

  “Monica, I have a sicky belly,” I say, lying on my side, curled into a fetal position.

  “Oh no, food poisoning?”

  I shake my head carefully. “Shots.”

  “Shots?” She chuckles. “It’s not even dinnertime there.”

  “I know, but something happened to me and I decided to take shots to make me feel more comfortable about the thing that happened to me, but then I ended up drinking too many, and now all I can think about is the thing that happened to me, which makes my stomach turn even more.”

  “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “That was a lot of rambling. Let’s start with the thing that happened to you.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Umm . . . pretty sure I do.”

  I drape my arm over my forehead dramatically. “It happened all so fast, I couldn’t stop choking on my own tongue to stop it.”

  “Something made you tongue-tied? This I have to hear.”

  Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut but then open them quickly when the room starts to turn again. “Crap, I feel awful.”

  “If you need to throw up, take me with you. I’m not missing out on what happened to you and witnessing the side effects from it.”

  “You’re disturbing.” I chuckle and send a quick thank you to the friend gods for the best friend in my life. “So when I arrived at the airport, guess who was there?”

  She doesn’t have to take long to think about it. Her eyes open wide and then her smile takes up her entire face. “Oh my God, please tell me it was Cory Potter?”

  “Yup,” I say, rolling to the other side of the bed—slowly, of course. “I sat across from him the whole plane trip, taking in his broad shoulders and beautiful face. God, he’s so beautiful. Why is a man beautiful? They should be handsome. But I swear, he’s beautiful and rugged-looking at the same time. And he has this presence about him, calm and observing, but can also crack a joke. And then, God, you should see him in a palm leaves shirt.”

  “He’s wearing a shirt with palm leaves on it?”

  “Oh yes, he is and he’s wearing the hell out of it.”

  “Have you seen him with his shirt off yet?”

  I shake my head. “I refused to look when he came out to the pool area. I can’t do that to myself, not when . . . the thing happened to me.”

  “Okay,” Monica says, growing frustrated. “You’re going to have to divulge. What’s this thing that happened to you?”

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “I’m sharing a room with him.”

  I cringe, waiting for her outburst but instead of getting one, she stares at me as if I’m crazy. “You’re sharing a room with Cory Potter?” I nod. “And why is this a thing? You should be taking a magnifying glass to your lower regions to make sure all the hairs were waxed before you went to St. Croix. Natalie, this is amazing.”

  “Monica, it’s Cory Potter.”

  “Exactly. It’s Cory Fucking Potter, one of the hottest guys ever to walk the planet. Those eyes, those shoulders. God, what I wouldn’t give to be in your position right now, and I love my man more than anything, but sharing a room with Cory? Uh, sign me up. Pretty sure hubby would push me out the door and tell me to take my top off if he knew I’d be sharing a room with Cory Potter. This isn’t a thing; this is an opportunity.”

  I shake my head, the pounding sensation starting at the base of my skull. “I love your confidence in me, but let’s be honest. He’s way out of my league. Like above and beyond any man I would ever be able to land.”

  “And I love you, Natalie, but just because you were married to Ansel, doesn’t mean that’s what you should expect in a man. Ansel wasn’t the best you could do, not even close. He was lucky you even looked his way. You are a catch. You are funny and smart and have a kind heart. You might be a little twitchy at times and say weird things, but that adds to your charm. And you can’t help that, because you are genetically related to Jason Orson. Besides that, Cory would be lucky to have you look his way. Give yourself more credit; he’s not out of your league, you’re equal.”

  Monica is delusional.

  Seriously . . . deranged. Lost her marbles. Hey, maybe she’s high.

  “Are you high?”

  “What? No,” she says, her voice rising. “I’m being serious.”

  “Hmm.” I tap my chin. “Maybe I’m high.”

  “Good Lord, Natalie. You and I both know you’re not; you’re just drunk. Listen to me, okay? I need you to focus.”

  I zero in on her face and nod. “I’m focused.”

  “Good. Because I need you to absorb these words. You are a stunning and amazing girl in her twenties looking for fun. Cory Fucking Potter has a libido, as every man does. You’ve got a fucking gorgeous body. Flaunt it. Give him the good views.”

  “What are the good views?” I ask, my mind immediately going to spread-legged on the bed. “Because I’m not comfortable waiting naked on the bed with my legs spread until he gets back. It’s drafty in here.”

  “I’m not asking you to give him the spread eagle. We want to entice him, not scare him away.”

  “Are you saying my vagina is scary?” I ask, personally offended. “The waxing lady with the wax and the strips and the wax, she said I had a nice . . . what did she call it? Oh, kitten. She said I have a nice kitten.”

  “I’m sure you do since Ansel had a pencil for a penis and never really touched you.” Monica gives me a challenging look.

  Muttering I say, “More like a Sharpie than a pencil.”

  “Either way, you have a nice vagina, but let’s save the grand reveal for when he’s begging for it. For now, get to know him a little, give him accidental touches here and there, seduce him slowly. It will be fun.”

  “What you think sounds fun, sounds like a nightmare to me.”

  “You know how to flirt, Natalie.”

  “Yes, everything you said, I can do, but to Cory Potter? His sister is here, his friends are here. I would make a fool of myself. Not to mention, when he saw me, when he found out we had to share a room, the look on his face made it seem like a little elf was in his pants, twisting his balls. He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “That’s not true. He’s approached you on multiple occasions to talk to you.”

  “Because I’m his new teammate’s sister, because his new teammate is best friends with his brother-in-law, not because he was interested in me. I love that you’re trying to pump me up, but let’s be realistic. A girl like me is never going to be with a guy like Cory Potter. I’m not his version of fling material.”

  Monica groans out in frustration but doesn’t keep pushing me. “Can you at least try to have some fun, flirt a little, maybe meet an islander?”

  “And what? Take him back to the room I’m sharing with Cory?”

  “Hmm . . .” She pauses, thinking. “See if Cory is familiar with the sock on the doorknob signal.”


  Rolling my eyes, I give her a kiss and say, “Bye, Monica.”

  I hang up and rest my phone on the bed next to me. Not under the covers, still wearing my cover-up with my beach hat strewn over the pillows, I curl up even further into myself and take a deep breath. My stomach has settled and now sleep is overtaking me. I briefly close my eyes to see if the room keeps spinning and when it doesn’t, I decide to take a nap until I’m feeling better.

  Then I’ll get ready for dinner and try to enjoy my time on this enchanting island with a larger-than-life man.

  * * *

  Crash.

  “Ouch. Shit,” a deep voice whispers.

  I shoot up off the mattress, the room completely dark, just the faintest light from the moon filtering in through the windows. Enough for me to spot a shadowed figure at the foot of the bed. Fight or flight kicks in immediately and before I can think about it, I scramble around on the bed, an ear-piercing scream falling from my lips as my hand connects with the cordless phone on the nightstand. I whip the phone at the figure and scream, “Murderer,” while taking a pillow and using it as a shield, clutched to my chest.

  “Christ,” the figure mutters when the phone hits him in the arm. “Natalie, it’s me . . . Cory.”

  “Don’t you—” I perk up. “Wait, what?” In seconds, the day unfolds in my mind. The flight, the hotel room, the shots, my conversation with Monica. “Oh God, Cory, I’m so sorry.” I lean over and turn the nightstand light on, horrified that I just hit Cory with a phone.

  Chuckling and rubbing the side of his arm, he says, “That’s okay.” When he looks up, his eyes widen for a second before he looks away. “Uh . . . you slept through dinner.”

  Why did his eyes widen like that? I reach up and feel my hair . . . sticking six inches off my head. Shit. I try to smooth it down, but since I’m not staring in a mirror, I have no idea what’s happening. When I look down at the pillow I was using as a shield in front of me, I notice a giant drool spot. No, this can’t be happening. If I drooled that bad . . .