Summer Loving

by Lise Gold et al.

  I didn’t want to be Righteous Jamie right then and there. That had only ended with heartache. I was on vacation all alone, and this was the time for me to be a woman who didn’t think of consequences. My intention for the next seven days was simple: have an unforgettable experience. So, hearing from Mr. Cocksure that I looked hot was a tick in the positive column. Unfortunately for Mr. Cocksure, I wasn’t reeling enough, despite sending a fuck you, we’re over text to my wife, to hop into bed with a dude, even one with a charming Aussie accent and brilliant smile.

  The problem with holding out for a woman to have a fling with was I was staying at a couple’s resort. Sighing, I pulled out a paperback copy of The Thorn Birds and placed it on the bar.

  The bartender squinted at the cover. “You aren’t seriously reading that, are you?”

  “Yes. Do you have a problem with it?”

  “It’s a book I associate with my grandmother, not anyone like you.”

  “You have a lot of opinions about the female sex.” I flipped the pages of the book, secretly enjoying sparring with the Aussie. I’d always been a people person who chatted with anyone willing to engage. A trait my wife was appalled by, since ninety-percent of her social interactions occurred online.

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m curious, that’s all. Why’d you choose it?”

  “Because packing a book was a last-minute decision after my wife decided not to come on the trip, effectively ending our relationship, and I didn’t want to get bored. It was on my shelf by the door. And, it was a gift.”

  “From?” He gripped the edge of the bar, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “A woman.”

  “That much is given. Out with it.” He waved for me to spill my guts.

  “Fine.” I ground my teeth. “From my grandmother. Years ago.”

  Crocodile Dundee leaned on his arms. “Your wife dumped you—”

  “I dumped her!” I slapped my palms together in a finito fashion. “I’m sick of her shit. Always late or cancelling at the last second. Do you want to know why she bailed on this trip?”

  “I’m dying to know why anyone would ditch you.”

  “I ditched her! You seem to be blocking out the important part.” Why did I keep stating I had been the one to end my marriage? It wasn’t something I was proud of, aside from declaring my happiness mattered.

  “Again, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.” He bowed his head in apology. “It’s difficult to understand why anyone would ever do anything to upset someone like you.”

  “You don’t even know me.” My tone wasn’t snappish, but even I was confused as to my intent. Would I ever feel normal again? Or would my emotions continue careening like an out-of-control roller coaster, with no brakes or tracks to keep me in check?

  He snapped a dish towel. “You’re a hard woman to please.”

  “Which is why I’ll probably be alone for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t think that way. I know its early days and your heart is smashed into bits, but life does get better. Look around you. It’s paradise. My advice: take your drink, claim one of the primo loungers in the shade, and read your granny book.”

  I started to argue, but he pointed, and I followed his finger to spy the lush surroundings. “You know what? You’re right. I shouldn’t be hiding here in a bar. I came here to relax, and I’m going to do just that.” I got to my feet, holding the drink in one hand and the book in the other. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Give me a wave when you need another. My goal is to make you happy. You deserve that. If you only get one thing out of this trip, make it that. You deserve happiness in any form.”

  For the first time in years, I believed those words. Why did it take hearing it from a strange man in a foreign land for the sentiment to strike a chord?

  “Are you training to be a life coach or something?” I asked.

  “All bartenders, even in paradise, are life coaches.”

  Chapter 2

  Alex

  Sweaty, tired, and beyond irritated, I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment. It seemed to take an indomitable amount of time for the plane to taxi to the terminal and then to have the door opened. How hard was it to wedge a block of wood under the tires to secure the plane? The three-hour delay in Miami had pushed me over the edge. Now, every wasted second magnified my anxiety. Every row emptied slowly, further aggravating me.

  “Thanks for flying with us,” one of the exhausted flight attendants said as I disembarked.

  “Have a good day,” I mumbled, knowing it wasn’t the woman’s fault that the last twenty-four hours had not gone according to plan. Unless the plan had been to derail every aspect of my life.

  Following the other passengers to the passport check, I worked on counting to ten. Losing my temper while surrounded by surly-looking men with scary-ass rifles overseeing the chaos in the small airport more than likely would result with the worst possible outcome.

  Just smile and answer their questions, Alex, minus the chip on your shoulder.

  “Why are you traveling?” the man barked.

  “For pleasure.” Flash a fake, life is easy breezy smile. Whatever you do, don’t show your fear.

  “For how long?” He examined my documentation.

  “Six days.” Real answer: for however long it takes to come to terms with the collapse of my marriage.

  The man held up my passport and then gave me a long stare, comparing it to my photo, his expression intimidating.

  I continued with the forced relaxed smile, tamping down the desire to fill the seconds with useless babble. I’d never loved this part of foreign travel. Being at the mercy of a little person with way too much power.

  Finally, he stamped my passport and handed it off with a dismissive air, already turning his attention to the next American wanting permission to enter his country—because he acted like it was his sole power to grant.

  In the baggage area stood more men in brown uniforms with rifles.

  Alex, you’re not in Kansas anymore.

  I retrieved my checked bag and headed for the exit.

  It was close to midnight, and I said a silent prayer that the driver I’d arranged at the last minute had waited. I had tried calling the service from Miami when the deluge started, but no one answered.

  The humidity hit me the instant I stepped outside. Many of the people behind the metal barrier looked to be family members, waving their arms and crying. Some held signs with names. I scanned them, not seeing my name.

  Wait.

  One nervous-looking man held a piece of paper that read Alex Cabol. It was so close, making me wonder the odds that it wasn’t meant for me.

  I approached the man, who was half a foot shorter than I was, and asked, “Are you here for Alex Cabot?”

  He responded in Spanish and shook the paper as if that said it all.

  Why hadn’t I brushed up on my high school Spanish?

  I said my name slower, placing a hand on my chest. “Me, Alex.”

  Again, he spoke in his native tongue with rapid speed, offering a shy but nervous smile, shuffling from one foot to the other.

  What the hell? He had to be my driver. The crowd was drastically dwindling, and he was the only one holding a sign. If he wasn’t my driver, I’d figure it out later. But I had to keep going to my destination. Spending the night at the airport with armed men I couldn’t communicate with wasn’t an option.

  “Sí, sí,” I finally said and motioned for him to lead the way to the car.

  Mentally and physically exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to arrive at the resort, which was a two-hour drive, and fall into a bed.

  In the back of a beat-up minivan, I feverishly read the overhead road signs, checking the names against my phone to see if we were heading in the right direction. To the best of my abilities and crappy Wi-Fi connection thanks to the SIM card I’d purchased, I was relatively sure I was in the right car.

  Fig
hting to stay awake, I swiveled my head back and forth to gaze into the black void on each side of the vehicle. Was this karma, considering I’d been struggling to keep my wits about me since my wife had ended things? Would everything from this point forward be colorless, empty, and terrifying?

  An hour into the drive, the man pulled off the road into what looked to be an abandoned gas station. He turned in the driver’s seat, spoke in rapid Spanish, and then got out of the car.

  “What the fuck?” I leaned down to peer through the windshield.

  The driver, looking skittish, ducked behind the building.

  I glanced around nervously, wondering if I was about to be attacked or kidnapped. There was nothing but darkness.

  The seconds ticked by with a thud in my temples.

  The driver reappeared and climbed behind the wheel again, getting back onto the road. Had he needed a bathroom break? Had he said baño? Was that the word for bathroom? How had I been so foolish not to prepare better? If I did get trafficked, I only had myself to blame.

  After another tense hour, he turned off the main road onto a gravel one. While the minivan bounced about, I held on to both of my bags, planting my feet to stay on the seat. Tree branches gouged the sides of the car, creating hideous sounds.

  Up ahead was a tiny building and a barrier to the road. A large man approached the vehicle before it got too close. He shined a flashlight at the driver and then into the back right onto me, and I reacted by holding up a hand and turning away, blinking to regain my sight.

  Holy fucking shit, Alex. What have you gotten yourself into?

  The dude flipped around and raised the barrier, flicking his flashlight for the driver to go on. There was more jostling on the road until, finally, it pulled up in front of a white building, with a concrete staircase, shrouded in complete darkness.

  A different man opened the door to the vehicle. Without saying a word, he took my bags and motioned for me to get out of the car.

  Once out, the driver waved goodbye and spun his wheels, obviously in a hurry to get the hell out of Dodge.

  With the heavier bag over his shoulder, and the other in his hand, the massive dude motioned for me to follow him, the only light coming from his flashlight. What choice did I have? I couldn’t make a break for it on foot in the middle of a jungle.

  The gravel crunched under foot as I tried to make out my surroundings. The only thing I was absolutely sure of was I was trapped on all sides by dense vegetation. Alone with a silent man, huffing and puffing, leading me to…

  Finally, we arrived at a small building where he set the bags down at the door, used a key to open it, and said something in a gruff voice that sounded like, “Good night.”

  I stood at the door’s entrance, craning my neck to peer inside. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I made out a bed. Inching into the room, my right hand searching the wall for a light, I found a switch and kicked it on.

  I was in a bungalow, perhaps. It seemed nice. Did traffickers slowly break you in with one night in a cozy bed before wrecking the rest of your life? I had news for them. My life had already been destroyed, so whatever happened from here on out was simply going through the motions. Happiness didn’t seem possible anymore. God, my life was seriously in the shitter if the thought of being a sex slave didn’t send me into a panic.

  Honestly, I was too spent to give my fate much thought. After I brought my luggage in, I closed and locked the door, dismissing the idea of moving furniture to block it.

  I crashed on the bed, more exhausted than I’d been in months, if not years. As I drifted off, something skittered here and there on the roof of the cabin. All night long, I dreamed about wild animal attacks.

  Crunching sounds woke me around six, but I managed to roll over and fall back into a deep slumber.

  Around nine, according to my phone, I woke again. I sat up, rubbing the crumbs from my eyes, and contemplated my options. Stay hidden forever or open the door and see what awaited outside.

  After a stern pep talk, and then two more, I got to my feet and opened the front door only to be greeted by a colorful paradise, birdsong, and a group of people walking by my cabin, one woman cheerfully waving.

  Chapter 3

  Jamie

  “I was starting to wonder if you left?” The bartender grinned at me.

  “I foolishly signed up for a day-long hike.” I took a seat at the bar, setting my bag on the chair and my book down in front of me.

  “To the falls?” He placed a cocktail napkin next to the book.

  “Yep. It’s one of the must-dos according to Manuel, my guide.”

  “It is, along with taking a dip in the water and going behind the falls. Did you?”

  “Absolutely.” I yawned.

  “Am I that boring, or is it because I’m a bloke and you aren’t into guys?” His smile showed it’d take much more than that to dent his ego.

  I rolled my eyes. “You never told me your name.”

  “Lucas.” He offered his hand for me to shake.

  “I’m Jamie. Nice to officially meet you.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “What can I get you?”

  “The same as last night. A couple of Manhattans will help me sleep like the dead. It’s been a long time since I’ve been hiking, and this was the first time a guide had to tell me where to place each foot so I wouldn’t plunge to my death. I’d rather not have nightmares and would prefer to slip into a booze coma.” I sucked in a breath.

  “I understand.” He winked.

  I glanced around. “It’s deserted today.”

  He nodded. “Many left this morning after the sunrise hike. A new crop is coming in two days from now. I heard we had a last-minute guest arrive in the middle of the night, but she really hasn’t been seen by anyone aside from the night man, so maybe she plans to stay in her cabin the whole time. A lot do that.”

  “Really? Why come all this way to sleep when there’s this?” I waved to the tropical paradise. “Even sitting by the pool would allow a person to appreciate the beauty of this place without much exertion.”

  He set down my drink. “I like your style. Dressing up and bringing a book.”

  “This outfit was in my bag for tonight.” I checked out my sleek cocktail dress. “I contemplated wearing shorts and a T-shirt to dinner, but then I thought, what the hell. I packed this killer outfit, so I might as well rock it.”

  “You’re the loveliest person in the entire country.” He leaned on his forearms.

  “I bet you say that to all the broken-hearted lesbians you meet.” I sipped my drink.

  “It’s all part of the bartender manual.” Lucas straightened. “Hold on. You might have some competition.”

  I scouted over my shoulder and spied a black-haired vixen, who stood at the entrance of the bar in a sleek, well-tailored pantsuit made of night black satin, with a crisp white-button-up shirt that had barely been buttoned up at all. Not your typical outfit for a resort, at least according to my experience so far.

  “She most definitely isn’t my competition.” I growled in a back the fuck off way intended for the woman, but I guessed Lucas thought it was for him. The woman’s stare reinforced the idea I was on her menu and all she had to do was snap her fingers to get me to run to her. The fucking nerve!

  “You really do have confidence. Sexy as hell.” He mimed burning his hand on something hot, laughing like I didn’t have a chance in hell if he really put his mind to it. He was absolutely clueless about the situation.

  I turned my attention to the vixen, my eyes glued to her, and she returned my gaze with meaning.

  The woman didn’t budge.

  The staring contest continued, causing a near-volcanic reaction inside me.

  The woman reached into her clutch, pulling out a phone. No, it wasn’t a phone. An envelope, perhaps. With her gaze downcast, I was able to take in the vixen’s smoky eye makeup. Fuck. Did the woman know how hot she looked?

  Hottie slipped the item back
into her bag, her gaze slowly lifting to meet mine once again. A zinging sensation zipped through my body, lighting me up like I’d swallowed a firework. The woman in black offered a hint of a smile as if she knew the effect she had on me.

  Not going to work.

  I sealed off the firework sensation, putting it out by sheer force of will. Whatever you do, Jamie, do not give in. Not for her.

  The woman’s gaze panned the deck of the open bar, and her attention latched onto an empty table with a view of the pool and the mountain in the background.

  What the fuck?

  My heartbeat thudded in my throat as I watched the woman make her way to the table. Interestingly, the woman in black sat in the chair facing me, not the scenery, wearing an expression that said, I want you.

  I harrumphed under my breath. If she wanted to play games, then bring it. No-Consequences Jamie wasn’t the type to follow orders. Not anymore. I may be turning thirty-two at the stroke of midnight, but I had it on good authority, not just from Lucas, that I hadn’t lost much of my wow factor. I deserved respect and happiness. I’d drawn one line in the sand. Now for another.

  A waitress stopped by Hottie’s table. Hottie must have said something amusing because the waitress laughed for real, not the fake type servers do in hopes of a decent tip.

  I didn’t appreciate the waitress, who seemed straight, flirting, or so I imagined, with… with Hottie. Not to mention, Hottie had some nerve giving me the come and get me look and then toying with the waitress, who wore a tropical flower shirt identical to the one Lucas had on with khaki shorts while I wore my fuck me dress. What was the point of wearing this outfit if the payoff was watching the sexiest woman on the planet use her charm on someone else?

  Calm down, Jamie.

  The night had just begun, and I’d decided I had my sights on the vixen in black.

  Before the night was over, I’d be taking Hottie to the room. Because why else were the two of us here?

  Chapter 4