Ten hoursand one migraine later, I’ve thrown my luggage in my room and punched the down button on the elevator. My connecting flight was delayed by four hours in a tiny airport with no restaurant or bar and air conditioning that needed some recharging.
All my friends went to town for a fabulous dinner at Ethos and I’m extra salty I missed it because it’s one of the biggest reasons we picked San Phillipe for this trip. Instead, I ate corn nuts and beef jerky from the duty-free store before grabbing a cab and heading for the hotel.
I take a deep breath as the elevator dings and the doors open. Stepping inside, I’m thankful there’s no one else riding because making small talk or avoiding eye contact seems like an epic feat right now. Goosebumps rise on my skin in the cool air conditioning, and I consider going back to my room and snuggling into the huge white robe in the bathroom after a bubble bath and room service.
But, I’m here for some fun and adventure, so I sally forward wearing my new bikini and a lacy black cover up. Natalie helped me pick them out after seeing my boy shorts and swim t-shirt. I’ve never had a bikini before and especially not one that is no more than two sets of varying-size beige triangles, held together with matching fabric sort of shoelaces.
But, she said, go big or go home, and something about less is more. She loves her cliches, even when they make almost no sense, but I love her anyway and she’s the sister I never thought I’d have.
My hair is tangled in a messy bun and the bit of makeup I threw on this morning has long worn off. I did manage a new swipe of deodorant and a spritz of my favorite perfume before heading out of my room and down the hall, just to be polite to anyone that may come within sniffing distance of me.
The elevator dings with each floor it passes as my text notification goes off.
Ruby: Where are you? We’re all half in the bag already. GET DOWN HERE! We’re near the swim up bar.
Me: I’m getting on the elevator now. Be there in 5.
Harold: There’s some prime cuts of beef down here. I got first dibs.
Me: Have at it. I’ve got all the prime beef I need back at the restaurant.
Ruby: Prime beef and some juicy looking sausages too. I’ll order you a Strong Island. It’s like a Long Island but…STRONGER!
Harold: I’m on my thrid allm bready.
Me: It’s okay, I don’t really want a drink.
Ruby: Get don here.
Harold: Order her too. 2. TWO.
There’s a soft bump when the elevator settles on the main floor. The doors slide open and I look at the sign on the wall with arrows and directions to the different parts of the hotel. I hear music and voices as I follow the one that indicates the Party Pool & Swim Up Bar. As the voices get louder, I remember Tor’s commentary on my friends, and I’m honestly a bit relieved this trip is only two nights and the first one is already partially over.
I check my phone one last time before slipping it into my purse. I’ve already let my family know I’ve arrived and I’m safe and sound, otherwise they would be blowing me up all night.
The battery is only one tiny slice of red but I forget all about that when I step onto the pool deck. The warm breeze sweeps around me as I come face to face with a wall of a man wearing a black t-shirt with the word ‘security’ in yellow over his left pec.
It’s a party atmosphere, people are dancing and drinking out of coconuts and pineapples with little umbrellas. A group is cheering as they down shots at the massive swim up bar along one side of a pool as big as a lagoon and just as blue.
A Jimmy Buffet song blares on the surround-sound speakers, and my resolve to sally forward through this evening quickly starts to dissolve.
But all of the noise and revelry is sucked into the abyss as I stand gape-mouthed, looking at the man-god in front of me. He’s a devastating combo of Dwayne Johnson and some dangerous tattooed outlaw but with way better hair. His skin is tanned to a warm toasty-brown with these wild almost reddish-black eyes, and I wonder for a second if he’s real.
He’s standing so still he looks like a statue, except there’s a hardening of his jaw muscle as he looks at me and I drop my eyes to the pool deck as my name is called from near the bar.
I shift around him, daring to look up again and an awkward smile twists my lips. I know I must look like a crazy woman with my wild twisted hair and mis-matched flip flops.
I nod for no known reason when his gaze catches mine. He’s got a scent like trouble and lust and it feels like every inch of my skin flickers to life.
There’s a warmth down between my legs that starts to pulse, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear my pheromones were sending up smoke signals, because his eyes dart down to my crotch and I think I hear him groan.
“Excuse me,” I hear as a trio of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills types shuffle up between us.
I’m barely breathing, sucked into the sexy vortex of the security guy as one of the women pushes past, then turns to get a better look and I get a solid smack from her enhanced triple-D’s right in my face.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “A little too much cement in that silicone, you practically gave me a black eye.”
“What?” She spins around, narrowing her eyes, false lashes brushing her eyebrows with her overly-plumped lips pursed. “Did you say something?”
“Yes,” a low rumble comes from Mr. tall dark and tropical, “she said something.” His eyes shift to me. “You want to file an assault report?”
He leans around her, looking beyond her blonde extensions with a twinkle in those burgundy-rimmed black eyes.
“Assault?” I say, as the blonde Barbie trio tries to piece together some brain cells and figure out what’s going on.
“She hit you, didn’t she?” He says.