I sample my cocktail. It doesn’t disappoint. “Are you a frequenter?”
“I don’t know what makes one a frequenter, but I typically come four times a year.”
“That qualifies you as a patron in my book. Is this your quarterly visit or a special trip for Wicked Week?”
“I, too, had a shitastrophe in my life. I thought the sun and sand would do me some good.”
He’s using my words. “Divorce?”
“No.” That’s all he says. No explanation. I’m curious to know what he means but not rude enough to ask him to expand if he doesn’t volunteer the information.
I decide to steer the conversation in a safer route. “What do you do for a living?”
“Real estate agent but I also flip houses with my brothers.” I’m guessing Beau has a lucrative business. He’d have to if he comes here four times a year. This place isn’t cheap.
“What about you?”
“High school teacher. English and creative writing.”
“So you’re out for summer.”
“Yup. Can’t lie. Summer break is a huge perk for being a teacher.” It’s one of the things that drove me to choose that profession. That and my love of words.
Words are powerful. They can evoke countless reactions. Joy. Pain. Arousal. Make a heart skip a beat. Or shatter it into a million pieces.
Dinner arrives quickly considering the crowd. Our conversation never slows despite the fact we’re stuffing our faces. “You mentioned divorce. Is it safe to assume that a split from your husband is the shitastrophe you were referring to earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“How long were you married?” He’s asking more questions than I’m comfortable answering.
“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.”