Stout (Men of Lovibond 2)

“Our divorce was final a week after our first anniversary.”

“Irreconcilable differences?”

Yeah. All that and a bag of chips. “I guess you could call it that since I was unable to accept him screwing one of our former students. And he had a bad case of douchebaggery.”

“That’s fucking low. And illegal. I hope the prick is being prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” I’m a little surprised by his annoyance. It can’t possibly be out of concern for me, but I can’t ignore the slight ping of joy to hear someone else’s disgust.

“Technically, his relationship with Caitlyn isn’t illegal since she’s nineteen. They both claim their relationship started after she was of age and had graduated so there’s nothing to pursue from a criminal aspect.”

“And you believe that?”

“Absolutely not.” I’m no fool.

“You seem like a great girl, so your ex must be a dumb bastard. I don’t have to spend more than a few minutes with you to come to that conclusion.” He’s quick to defend my honor. Sort of reminds me of Grayson.

Everything about Beau seems normal. I could almost forget where we are and that his tastes are likely something I’m not accustomed to.

“Are you married?” He’s dining alone, but that means nothing in a place like this.

“Almost. I was engaged until a month ago.” I’d like to know what happened but I don’t want to pry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Best thing that could have happened to me was not marrying her.” I recognize bitterness when I hear it.

My curiosity is piqued. “The almost Mrs. Emerson must have done something really bad.”

Beau goes completely still and closes his eyes. “Unforgivable.”

There’s only one thing worse than losing one person you love to cheating: it’s losing two people you love. “She cheated with a friend? Or relative?” Oh, God. I hope it wasn’t one of his brothers.

“Cheating would have been much less painful.” I can’t imagine what he means. There’s very little that could hurt worse than being scorned by the one you consider your soul mate.

“My bad. I just assumed.”

I give him a moment to expand on what he meant, but he says nothing. Guess he’s not in the mood to talk about it so I take our chat in a new direction. I’m interested to hear someone’s opinion besides Meredith’s.

“My friend swears that swinging makes her marriage less complicated. She’s a full-on advocate.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been married nor am I a swinger.”

Well, he isn’t a four-times-a-year attendee for nothing. He’s some kind of sexual deviant. “My mistake. I assumed you were because you’re at a hedonism resort.”

“Not everyone here comes to do that.”

I point to myself. “I can testify to that.”

Our server comes by to clear our plates. “May I interest you in some coffee or dessert? Perhaps another cocktail or beer?”

I’m feeling my four martinis. A fifth probably isn’t a good idea. “Heat and hangovers don’t mix, so nothing for me, thank you.”

Beau flicks his hand. “Nothing for me either.”

This is the part where we go separate ways. “We should probably get up and give our table to two of those hungry people out there waiting to be seated.”

“Right.”

We exit the building and stop on the sidewalk to say goodbye. “It was a pleasure dining with you, Anna James.”

Beau Emerson is handsome. Kind. Intellectually stimulating. The way he spoke to me made me feel the way a woman should. More like the old me. Not the one still licking her wounds because she was dumped for a toddler, but the woman I was before Drake. Confident.

“Thank you for offering your extra seat to a stranger. I’d still be waiting for a table if you hadn’t.” In some ways, even though I am thanking him for his seat, he has actually given me more.

“I hope your stay is a pleasant one.”

“And yours as well.”

“Goodnight,” we say in unison.

I want him to say something more, such as “take a walk with me” or “can I see you tomorrow?” But he doesn’t. I’m tempted to turn back for a glance as I walk away. But I don’t; he’s a hedonist. Spending time with a vanilla girl like me isn’t deemed worthy of a blip on his radar. And spending time with a hedonist as handsome as he is not on mine either.

CHAPTER 2

ANNA JAMES BENNETT

It’s growing dark. The ocean has already swallowed the sun. Beau and I talked much longer than I thought.

I’m not ready to return to my room to sit alone so I decide to explore the resort despite the warning Meredith gave me about the risqué things happening at Indulge after the sun goes down.

This is a huge resort; it isn’t a bad idea to scope it out. Identifying the places I can and shouldn’t go is essential.

The first sign I stumble upon directs me straight ahead for the beach area. Perfect. I would love to feel the sand under my feet.

I reach the beach’s edge and bend down to remove my shoes.

“Taking a walk on the beach?” It’s that deep, smooth, southern voice again. Beau.

Tingles dance across my skin. I nibble my bottom lip to suppress the delight I feel. “Yeah. I’m too anxious to wait until tomorrow.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“I’d like that.”

Beau holds up a finger. “Give me a few minutes.”

He disappears and returns a few minutes later holding a drink in each hand. He holds out a cocktail for me. “Pineapple-coconut martini.”

“How did you pull this off?”

“Magic.”

I look around and spot a freestanding bar. “The only magical thing about this will be if I don’t have a huge hangover tomorrow.” I sip the fruity concoction. Yummy. “I believe you, Mr. Beau Emerson, are a bad influence.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“I bet not.”

“In case you’re unaware, there are two beaches. Planning to go nude or prude tomorrow?”

Those are my only options? “Choosing to cover my T&A doesn’t make me a prude.”

“Maybe not anywhere else in the world but it’s different here. Covering your tits and ass means you’re uptight.”

I haven’t been a goody-goody a day in my life, but it seems I could be labeled a saint by these standards. “I won’t be getting naked so show me the way to the prude side.”

“You got it.” Beau leads me down a path lined with glowing torches and trees. The overhead foliage is so heavy I can no longer see the sky or stars. It’s an odd sensation, like walking through a tropical labyrinth.

We come to the end of the maze where the path meets the beach. With shoes in one hand, and my martini in the other, I step into the sand. Beau stands with a hand in his pocket, unmoving. “Now who’s the prude? Roll your pants up and come with me.”

I advance toward the water, leaving him behind. I rake my toes through the sand. I close my eyes and listen to the rush of water. Its pattern is predictable. Anticipated. I like that.

Peace. Tranquility. Deliverance. This is what brought me to this place.

“I love the feel of sand at night. The sun has gone down, and it’s had time to cool. The deeper you dig your toes in, the cooler it gets.”

He plunges his toes in. “I’ve never given that any thought but you’re right.”

“Shh. Be still and listen for a moment.”

Beau stands beside me, shoes off, pant legs rolled to mid calves. Silent.

“I love this sound. I have a noise maker set to ocean waves, but the real thing is so much better.”

“Then we should listen for a while.” He lowers himself to sit in the sand.

I plop down to join him. Nothing graceful about it. The martinis have made my joints loose and turned my bones to gelatin. “We lived on the Mississippi coast until I was fiftee

n. Our house was across the street from the beach. I could look out my bedroom window and see the ocean until it dropped out of sight. My dad was still living then. My happiest memories are from when we lived there. Maybe that’s why I find the sound of the water so soothing. It feels like home.”

“I thought your Georgia peach accent was a little on the thick side. That explains it. You’re a transplant.”

“I’ve lived in Georgia for nine years but my Mississippi twang still pokes its head out to make its presence known. I’ll never shake it. Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“I like it.”

“Drake didn’t. He said it made me sound like a hick.”

“Your ex sounds like a real ass.”

“He is, but all the shit he did provided me a vacation in Jamaica. I can’t regret that part.” At least not yet.

“This is the right place to help you forget your troubles.”

I want to know what brought Beau here. “This conversation is one-sided. You never told me what it is you’re trying to forget.”

He doesn’t take the lead to talk so I backpedal. “We can talk about it . . . or we can get up and run into the ocean.”

“I vote for skinny-dipping.”

“I said run into the ocean. There was no mention of getting naked.” Just like a man to assume that.

“Go in your dress if you don’t want to take it off.”