by Holly Rayner
She sighed. The point of this vacation had been to get away from stress and worry, and here she was, lying on a beach in the Bahamas and worrying about work and her dating life.
She ought to be having fun. She ought to be letting her cares slide away, at least as long as she was here.
Maybe what she needed was a drink to take the edge off.
She sat up slowly, easing into being upright after hours reclining in the sun. Her swimsuit coverup hung on the back of her chair, and she fumbled for it, then grabbed it and pulled it on over the white bikini she’d bought specifically for this trip. She had known that the white would look especially good once she had a nice tan, and she’d been right—dressing for the beach this morning, she had been pleased with the golden glow of her skin. She knew her tan was even deeper now.
Sergeant Kepler is definitely going to have some comment about that when I get home.
No. She wasn’t going to think about Sergeant Kepler. She wasn’t going to worry about any gross comments he might make when he saw her next. She was on vacation. The whole point was to not worry about things like that.
She dusted the sand off her feet with her towel and slipped on her beach flip-flops. Standing, she made her way up the beach to the tiki hut that served as a bar.
The bartender saw her coming. “Gwen!”
“Hey, Jahni.” She grabbed an empty barstool and leaned her elbows on the counter, feeling thankful for the fact that she’d purchased the all-inclusive beverage package to go with her stay at the resort.
“The usual?” Jahni asked.
Gwen nodded. “You know what I like.”
Jahni grabbed his shaker and began to mix the drink he had introduced her to on her first day—a pineapple mango daiquiri. He had warned her that he wasn’t sure whether she would like it and had told her to bring it back and exchange it if she didn’t. But as it turned out, Gwen had loved it. She had ordered other drinks from other bars on the resort property, but when she was out on the beach, she always chose pineapple mango daiquiris from Jahni.
“You look upset,” Jahni said as he worked. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened,” she assured him. She didn’t want him to think there was some kind of problem with her stay. “I’m just thinking about what’s going on back at home. I came here to forget the things that were stressing me out, and it’s not working as well as I’d hoped.”
“Sounds like you need this drink.” He paused, then winked at her and added a little more alcohol to the mix. “Don’t tell anyone I did that.”
“I won’t,” she assured him. “Thanks, Jahni.”
“I have to look out for my favorite customer, don’t I?”
“You’re such a flirt.” She was fully aware that he only flirted the way he did because it was a part of his job, a way to earn tips, but she still enjoyed it.
He finished the cocktail and pushed it across the bar toward her. “Enjoy,” he said, flashing her a grin.
“Thanks, Jahni.” Gwen picked it up and took a sip. It was perfect. Just what she needed to distract her from her worries. She turned toward the beach chair she’d left behind—
And crashed right into a man she didn’t know.
The drink jolted in her hand, spilling all over the man’s white shirt.
As he jumped back, away from her, Gwen gasped. He was the most handsome guy she’d ever seen. Tall, with wavy dark brown hair and a fit body she wanted to touch.
He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring down at his ruined shirt.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks grow hot. That shirt looked expensive. It was a white button-down, the kind a businessman would wear. If he was wearing it on the beach, he must have either just come from or been on his way to some kind of meeting.
Utterly humiliated in front of this perfect man, ashamed of her own clumsiness, Gwen thrust her now-empty glass back at Jahni and took off across the beach at a run.
She was mortified to realize, as she ran, that tears were filling her eyes. She hadn’t seen the man around the resort so far during her trip—she knew she would have remembered someone so attractive—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here. What if he was staying here and she ran into him again? What would she do? She didn’t think she’d be able to stand it.
She only had a few more days in the Bahamas. But they were supposed to be relaxing, carefree days. She had already been having a difficult enough time letting go of her worries, and now there was this to think about too.
She hurried into the resort building, across the lobby to the back hallway on the left-hand side, where her room was located. She dug in the pocket of her swimsuit coverup, pulled out her key card, and let herself into her room.
The air-conditioning felt wonderful after a day out in the sun. Ordinarily, coming back to the room and flopping down on the exquisitely comfortable bed was one of the highlights of Gwen’s day. Her usual pattern was to take a shower, wrap up in one of the resort’s comfortable bathrobes, order room service, and watch a little TV before bed.
But today she felt too upset and distracted to do any of that.
It surprised her a bit to realize how bothered she was by what had happened. It wasn’t as if she had known that man. And really what had happened wasn’t so awful. At worst, she had ruined his shirt—but she probably hadn’t. A daiquiri would wash out, right?
Maybe I should have offered to buy him a replacement. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling guilty.
But on the other hand…was it even appropriate for her to feel guilty? After all, he was the one who had been standing right behind her like that. She hadn’t even known he was there. If he hadn’t been, his shirt wouldn’t have been ruined.
She sighed and lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Why did it have to be so difficult to just relax and enjoy the holidays? No one else she had ever known seemed to have such a problem with it.
If only I had a family, she thought. Then Christmastime would be entirely different.
Chapter 2
Clay
Clay turned to watch as the woman ran away, her swimsuit coverup swishing around her tanned thighs as she did so. Her blond curls bounced against her back. His eyes followed her perfect curves.
He wished he had gotten a better look at her face. Would he even know her if he saw her again?
Not that it mattered, he supposed. It was clear from the way she’d reacted that she didn’t want anything to do with him. She would probably go out of her way to avoid him for the rest of her stay.
Shaking his head, he stripped off the button-down shirt he had been wearing and hung it on the back of the barstool. At least he was at the beach and being shirtless was acceptable; he wouldn’t have to go back to his room and find something else to wear.
“Are you all right, sir?” the bartender asked.
“I’m fine,” Clay said. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close behind her. I was just going to grab a couple of napkins before I sat down, but I should have been more aware of what was going on around me.” He shook his head again. “That was embarrassing.”
“It’s hardly the first time something like that has happened,” the man assured him.
“But I wasted her drink,” Clay said. “Is there any way I can get it transferred from her tab to my own? She shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Not necessary,” the bartender assured him. “She had the unlimited drinks package, so she wasn’t paying for it anyway.”
“That’s good,” Clay said, feeling a little better.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Mojito?”
“Coming up.”
Clay squinted at the man’s name tag. “Thanks, Jahni.”
“I haven’t seen you out here before,” Jahni said. “Is it your first day at the resort?”
“It’s my third day,” Clay said. “But I haven’t really been out on the beach until today. I’ve be
en sticking to the resort pool.”
“Well, you don’t want to miss our beach,” Jahni said, setting a mojito down in front of Clay. “Some of the most beautiful white sand you’ll find anywhere, and wonderfully calm water.”
“To tell the truth,” Clay admitted, “I was hoping for bigger waves.”
“Ah,” Jahni said. “If you want to experience rougher waters, may I suggest booking an excursion with the resort? There are surfing and bodysurfing lessons on the far side of the island, where the waves get bigger.”
“That’s a good idea,” Clay said. “Maybe I’ll do it.”
“You came here for a bit of excitement, I take it?” Jahni asked.
“I do like excitement.”
“Then you should definitely look into the excursions. There’s also a tandem parasailing company that partners with the resort to offer trips to guests. They’re completely safety certified, and they go out every day, as long as the winds aren’t too rough—which they haven’t been this month.”
“I’ll look into that,” Clay said. “Thanks for the tip, Jahni.”
He knew he wouldn’t. At least, not the parasailing. Clay enjoyed big waves, and he thought it would be fun to find a beach over the other side of the island for a swim.
But tandem parasailing? Activities like that were designed for people who had someone to do them with.
As though I really needed one more reminder that I’m spending Christmas on my own.
This was Clay’s first Christmas alone. Not that he was used to having a romantic partner. Managing his cattle ranch took up most of his time, and besides, when you lived way out in the country the way he did, you just didn’t meet a lot of women. For the past twenty-five years—ever since his mother had left their family when Clay was only a boy—it had been just him and his dad, plus the few farmhands who worked on the ranch.
But that had been fine. That had been more than fine. Clay and his father had been extremely close. Clay thought it was probably something about the nature of the hard work they did combined with the fact that the woman in their life had left them. It had brought them closer together.
Holidays had always been very special for Clay and his father. They had been conservative when it came to exchanging gifts, preferring small and meaningful presents rather than large, ostentatious things—last year, his father’s gifts to him had been a DVD of a movie they both loved and a new cowboy hat and belt buckle. But they had celebrated in other ways.
They’d loved putting up Christmas trees together. Every year, the house featured two—one in the front room, immaculately decorated with white lights and matching ornaments, carefully placed for perfect symmetry and balance. And another was set up in the den covered with popcorn strings and the homemade ornaments from Clay’s childhood, along with fun ones they’d accumulated throughout the years.
They had also done a Christmas feast every year on Christmas Eve. Turkey, ham, potatoes, cranberry sauce, and roast vegetables were standard fare, along with two or three different kinds of pie for dessert. They would begin their meal at the dining room table, then retire to the den when they got full. Throughout the night, they would make their way back to refill their plates, eating until they both fell asleep in front of the Christmas movies playing on the TV.
On Christmas Day, they’d continued the celebration by taking their leftovers to local soup kitchens and staying to help serve. Clay’s father had raised him to be conscious of the fact that not everyone had the wealth and privilege that their family did, and he was always glad to have the opportunity to reach out and help someone else.
But this year, everything was different. None of those old traditions would be happening.
Last summer, Clay’s father had died of a stroke.
It was still shocking to think about, to realize that his father wasn’t there and that Clay could never see him or speak to him again.
And he knew he could have gone ahead with the holiday traditions, of course. But he didn’t want to. It would have felt wrong to do those things by himself.
Faced with the prospect of spending Christmas alone on the ranch, he’d decided instead to get away to the Bahamas. Green Turtle Cay was a beautiful place, lush and tiny and about as far away from a Texas cattle ranch as a person could hope to get.
He stirred his mojito and took a sip. It was well made. He decided to speak to the person at the resort reception desk and add a tip for Jahni to his tab at the end of his stay.
Turning on his stool, he looked out at the beach. It wasn’t too crowded today. A guy and a girl who looked to be in their mid-twenties were playing in the surf, splashing each other. The guy picked the girl up and tossed her into the water, and she shrieked happily.
Farther down the beach, an elderly man and woman walked hand in hand. Clay could see the smiles on their faces from where he sat. They looked completely at ease in each other’s company, and he imagined they had probably been together for a very long time.
Higher up on the beach, a young family had set up an umbrella over a set of beach chairs. The mother and the oldest child, a girl of about ten, were lying on the chairs and reading books. The father was sitting with a younger girl and helping her to build a sandcastle. The two of them were laughing.
Everyone’s here with their families, Clay thought. Everyone brought a loved one.
Why had he thought that going on vacation would help him to get away from the loneliness he had been feeling at home? Vacation was just as much a family thing as Christmas was.
And I have no one.
Maybe if he had devoted more time to his love life, he would be here with someone too. But running the ranch had been a full-time job, even when he had had his father to help him. Clay had been on few dates in the past ten years, and those he had been on had ended disastrously. The women were either boring, or they clearly found him boring, or they were only interested in him for his money.
Why does it have to be so difficult?
He drained his drink and pushed the glass back toward Jahni.
“Another?” Jahni asked.
“No thanks,” Clay said. “I should go get some dinner, probably.”
The bartender nodded. “I recommend the Flying Fish,” he said.
“That’s the restaurant on the second floor of the resort?”
“Yes,” Jahni said. “Fine dining, and an award-winning chef. Everyone loves it.”
Clay nodded and thanked Jahni, knowing that this was one more thing he wasn’t going to be taking advantage of. He had peeked into the dining room on his first night here. It had been full of couples. He would have felt completely out of place going in by himself. No, it would be much more comfortable to go back to his room and order room service, as he had done for the past two nights.
A part of him felt disgusted with himself as he made his way back to the resort building. There was certainly no rule that said a single man couldn’t treat himself to a nice dinner at a five-star restaurant. He was as entitled to it as anyone else here. And wasn’t it wasting this vacation to spend so much of it alone in his room?
But on the other hand, this was his vacation. He didn’t have an obligation to do anything that was going to be uncomfortable for him. The point was to relax and have a good time. Putting himself in situations that highlighted his new loneliness was not going to help with that.
The resort was three stories tall, each story comprising four long, curved hallways, all clustered around a vast, high-ceilinged open lobby. Clay’s room was in the front right hallway, just past the gift shop. He always got a kick of looking in and seeing the trinkets that were sold there—cheap T-shirts with maps of the Bahamas stamped on them, shot glasses with paintings of turtles, jewelry made of synthetic shells. It was all so at odds with the high quality of the rest of the resort.
There’s a five-star restaurant upstairs, and down here they’re selling two-dollar flip-flops.
And Clay wasn’t going to take advantage of either one.
He was staying in a suite. He had booked the biggest room the place had to offer, not thinking about how it might feel to be in a room that was too large for his needs. Now that he was here, he sort of regretted it. He hadn’t even used the living room space. It just sat there with the lights off, reminding him that he couldn’t fill up three rooms.
He went to the hot tub and began to fill it up. At least that would help him relax. Then he grabbed the room service menu from the bedside table where he had left it after ordering breakfast that morning. He thumbed through to the dinner page, thinking that seafood sounded good.
In his pocket, his cell phone let out a buzz.
He frowned. He hadn’t purchased an international phone package for his vacation, knowing that he didn’t plan on making any calls. If anyone needed to contact him, he was happy to pay for it on a per-call basis.
But that was because he hadn’t been expecting any calls. Who could this be?
He pulled the phone out of his pocket. It wasn’t a call at all, but a text.
“Clay—got one more property. Calling it quits for now. But we’re going to make a fortune. Merry Christmas! Dave.”
Clay read the message a couple of times. Leave it to Dave to keep working even through the Christmas holiday. He was so excited about this property flipping idea of his.
Clay had never been able to muster enough enthusiasm for the project to match his old high school friend’s excitement. Still, he was glad that Dave had decided to come to him when he’d needed an investor. It felt good to be involved in something with another person, even if it was just a business arrangement.
And Dave did seem to have a knack for finding cheap properties the two of them could buy and renovate. Most of the places they’d required so far hadn’t even required very detailed improvements. A new roof on one, radon mitigation on another, and they had been ready to sell at a higher price.
