“Actually, it’s probably a good thing you called, come to think of it. I wouldn’t have called you about this, but as long as I’ve got you on the line, I should tell you: there’s been a startling development since we last spoke—and, now, I don’t think you should get your hopes up about my friend calling you.”
Colby’s blue eyes are locked with mine as I press the phone against my ear. He gestures like he’s dying to know what’s happening on the call and I hold my index finger up, telling him to be patient.
Charlotte continues, “I got a text from my friend and, well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Ryan, but it seems the exact thing you were worried about happening has happened.”
“What thing?” I ask.
“Remember, you said you were worried that, after a year of saying no to guys, my friend might finally say yes, out of the blue, before you’d had a chance to talk with her? Well, I guess you’ve got ESP or something because it seems that’s exactly what’s happened.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, her text was a bit vague, but I know her really well, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s planning to get back together with her ex-boyfriend.”
My heart lurches into my throat. “What? You mean the soccer player?”
“Yeah. Stu.”
I’m suddenly panicked. “Why do you think that? Did she tell you that?”
Colby’s eyes widen as he watches me.
“No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. She said she hooked up with a ‘blast from her past’ who’s an ‘asshole.’ She just flew to Hawaii last night for a wedding and the only blast-from-her-past-asshole who could possibly be at that particular wedding would be her ex-boyfriend. And if she had sex with her ex-boyfriend, which is the only logical asshole-blast-from-her-past it could have been, then that can only mean they’re getting back together because my friend would never in a million years have casual sex, ever.” She makes a sound I’d characterize as an audible shrug. “Hence, I truly think she’s getting back together with Stu.”
It’s taking every bit of my self-restraint not to burst out laughing. “Why would Stu be at the wedding in Hawaii?” I ask.
Colby looks at me quizzically, like he’s dying for a hint of what’s happening on this call, but I simply wink at him, telling him everything’s fine.
“He used to be friends with the groom—this guy named Josh,” Charlotte says. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have thought Josh would have invited Stu to his wedding after the way Stu treated my friend—I thought Josh had cut him off completely. But there’s no one else in her life who could possibly fit the description of being a ‘blast from her past’ and an ‘asshole.’”
“Well, I fit that description,” I say, a smirk dancing on my lips.
I can hear Charlotte’s eye-roll across the phone line. “I meant there’s no one else who fits that description and who could be in attendance at Josh’s wedding.”
Okay, I’ve had my fun. “Charlotte, it’s me. I’m the blast-from-her-past-asshole. I’m here in Hawaii with your bestie. Oh, and when I say ‘your bestie,’ let me be clear I’m not talking about a flight attendant named Samantha; I’m talking about Theresa Rodriguez, the personal assistant to my future brother-in-law, Joshua William Faraday.”
There’s dead silence on the line.
“I’m Kat Morgan’s brother,” I say, chuckling. “Ryan Morgan. And, surprise! I had sex with Theresa, oh, about three hours ago—right after I’d arrived here and walked into the hotel to find ‘Samantha’ standing in the lobby.”
“Oh my God.”
“Crazy, right?” I ask.
“Insane. How the hell did you get Tessa to have sex with you so damned fast? You told her about your crazy Search for Samantha and self-imposed celibacy?”
“No. Strangely enough, I haven’t told her anything about the past three months. That’s exactly why I’m calling you: to tell you I’m not gonna tell her that stuff yet, and I’d very much appreciate you not telling her, either.”
I tell Charlotte everything about my thought process and, when I’m done, Charlotte makes a noncommittal sound.
“You can’t keep all that from her,” she says. “She deserves to know.”
“Of course, she does. And I promise I’ll tell her everything before we leave Maui. But do I need to tell her all of it today? Cut me some slack. I’ve been searching for a flight attendant named Samantha for three months. Let me get my bearings before I have to bare my soul like that to some woman I just found out is named Theresa.”
Charlotte doesn’t reply.
“Charlotte, everything I felt when I met ‘Samantha’ in that bar, I’m feeling it again with Tessa, only even more so—and she’s obviously feeling it, too, or she wouldn’t have said yes. Just let us get to know each other this week without all the insanity getting in the way.”
“You’ll do it this week, before you leave Maui?”
“I promise.”
Charlotte exhales. “Okay, I won’t say a word this week. I don’t know why I trust you, but I do.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.” I give a thumbs-up sign to Colby and he fist-bumps me.
“But I have three conditions to my silence,” Charlotte says, “and you have to swear on a stack of bibles you’ll honor them.”
“Anything.”
“Swear.”
“I swear.”
“First, you gotta tell her this week.”
“Done.”
“Second, when you tell her, keep my name out of it. She never needs to know I agreed to keep my mouth shut. If she were to find out, she’d be pissed as hell at me.”
“I won’t utter your name. I swear. Thank you.”
“It’s really important, Ryan. Don’t throw me under the bus. I’ve known this girl since second grade and I’ve never lied to her. This past year, she’s felt utterly betrayed—beyond devastated. She’s always been a huge believer in honesty and integrity, but these days, she’s ultra-sensitive about it.”
“I understand. I promise. Your name won’t pass my lips. What’s your third condition?”
“At the end of all this, don’t you dare break my girl’s heart. Don’t you fucking dare. If anyone’s gonna get a broken heart here, or even so much as a splinter in a fingertip, you’d better make double-damn sure it’s you.”
32
Ryan
Charlotte and I hang up our call and Colby immediately pounces on me, wanting to know everything she said, but before I can say much of anything, Josh approaches our lounge chairs and we both clamp our mouths shut.
“Hey, hey, it’s the man of the hour,” I say to Josh. “What’s up, brother?”
“Hey, guys.” Josh looks at me. “Kat asked me to drag you out to sea, Ryan. We’re gonna snorkel with your parents and a bunch of Morgans before we gotta head in for dinner.”
“Cool. You good, Cheese?”
Colby holds up his book and beer. “Have fun, Jacques Cousteau.”
Josh and I amble across the sand toward a thatched hut filled with snorkeling equipment, chatting as we walk about the week’s upcoming activities.
“T-Rod pulled the whole week together for us,” Josh says. “That girl never lets me down. She’s not just my right-hand, she’s my right arm and leg, too.”
I smile and nod, but my stomach is suddenly clenching. “She seems extremely organized,” I say lamely.
Josh continues, “I had a chance to chat with Henn earlier today, right before he boarded his flight.”
“Oh, yeah? How’s he doing?”
“Good. He said you two are still hot on the trail of that flight attendant you met at The Pine Box?”
My stomach seizes. Shit. “Yeah, I, uh, had one last Hail-Mary-idea earlier today. It’s kind of a last-ditch effort type thing.”
“Henn also said something about her being Argentinian? I didn’t know that. I must have been with Kat when that detail came up.” Josh cocks his head. “You got a thing for Argentinian
s, Captain?”
My stomach flips over. “Nope. Not really. Can’t say that I do.”
“’Cause I noticed you scoping out T-Rod in the lobby when you first got here. Did you know she’s Argentinian?”
“She is? Oh, cool.” Okay, this is getting really uncomfortable. “I wasn’t scoping her out, in particular, I was just being a smart-ass. Sorry if I offended her. Or you.”
“Not at all. No worries. Hey, I think you should put some sunscreen on your face, Rum Cake. You’re getting a little red.” He smirks.
“Thanks. Fucking Seattle, right? I’m gonna burn to a crisp out here this week.”
We reach the hut with the snorkeling gear and Josh exchanges “alohas” with the guy behind the counter. “My almost-brother here needs some gear, please.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Faraday. And you, sir?”
“I’ve already got mine from earlier,” Josh replies.
The guy turns to gather whatever equipment is needed for me and Josh leans his elbow on the counter, his eyes locked with mine. “T-Rod’s like a sister to me, Ryan. Been with me six years. I can’t help but look out for her, especially ever since this dude I was sort of friendly with broke her heart this past year.”
I open my mouth and close it again. Shit.
“Here you go, sir,” the guy behind the counter says, handing me a mask and snorkel and fins. “You know how to use all that?”
I peel my eyes off Josh’s intense face and smile at the guy. “Yep. I’m good. Thanks.”
Josh grabs his gear from a nearby chair and we begin walking toward the water where every member of my family (other than Colby) is standing in the shallow waves, putting on masks.
Josh continues, “T-Rod met that douche ’cause of me, so her broken heart was indirectly my fault. I’d asked T-Rod to gather some signed sports memorabilia for this children’s charity I support—you know, signed jerseys, balls, that kind of thing. So, she goes to pick up everything from various teams around L.A. and the next thing I know this one soccer guy I sort of knew is texting me, ‘You’ve been holding out on me, Faraday!’ So I asked T-Rod what that was about because she never says a damned word to me about her personal life, and it turns out she’s got a dinner date with the guy that very night. Fast-forward however many months and they’ve moved in together and they’re talking about marriage and how many kids they want. Fast-forward a year after that and it turns out he’d been fucking around on her the entire time, pretty much from day one, in every city he’d played in, the whole time he was telling her he wanted her to have his babies.”
My heart squeezes painfully. No wonder T-Rod doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me.
We reach the waterline and Josh stops to put on his fins, so I do the same, my heart pounding ferociously in my chest, my mind reeling.
His fins on, Josh stands upright and crosses he muscled arms over his chest, his forearms covering the “grace” tattoo inked across his pecs. “Needless to say, I’m not friends with that piece of shit anymore.”
My stomach turns over. “Understandably.”
For a long beat, Josh looks at me like I’ve got a condom in my pocket with “Suck this, T-Rod!” written in Sharpie on it, and then he smiles and says, “You ready?”
I nod.
We begin trudging into the ocean toward the small group already snorkeling beyond the shore break. “You ever been snorkeling before?” Josh asks breezily, like the last five minutes never happened.
“Uh, yeah, a couple times in Mexico.”
“Kat keeps joking her belly’s gonna pull her down to the bottom like an anchor. I keep saying it’s gonna make her float like a buoy. God, I hope I’m right.” He chuckles.
I smile, but I’m too mind-fucked right now to return his breeziness.
“Spit on the glass to keep it from fogging up,” he says, motioning to my mask. “It’s an old trick.” By way of demonstration, he spits on the glass and proceeds to smear his saliva around and then dunks his mask in the ocean—and I do the same. “Oh, hey,” Josh says casually, still working on his mask. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: what were you planning to tell me the night we were supposed to meet for drinks at The Pine Box? Anything in particular?”
I suppress a smirk. Bravo. This is a master class right here in a dude gently laying down the law. Pretty impressive, I gotta say. “Nothing too intense,” I reply. “I just wanted to welcome you into the Morgan family and tell you if you ever need anything, big or small, you’re acquiring four brothers who’ll always have your back.” One side of my mouth hitches up. “And, of course, I’d planned to make it abundantly clear to you, and still do, frankly, that if you do a damned thing to hurt my sister, the Morgan Brothers will turn into the Morgan Mafia so fucking fast, you won’t know what hit you.”
A huge, beaming smile spreads across Josh’s face to match mine. “Well, I can certainly understand you feeling that way, Ryan. In fact, I’d expect nothing less from a dude who cares deeply about his little sister.”
I nod. “I’d expect nothing less, too.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” He swats me on the shoulder and motions to my mask. “Now put your mask on, bro. Your momma’s been asking about her beloved Rum Cake for the past hour and, God knows, we don’t wanna disappoint our sweet Momma Lou.”
33
Tessa
Okay, let’s start with the good news: Uncle William has had some sort of brain transplant, in a good way. I greeted him and his longtime companion, Katya, in the lobby, along with Jonas and Sarah and Sarah’s mom, and offered to personally show the Faraday family’s patriarch to his bungalow (so I could nip any and all inevitable issues in the bud); but, much to my shock and utter delight, Uncle William put one arm around Katya’s shoulders and the other around his new niece Sarah’s, beamed a genuine smile at me, and said, “I’ll be thrilled with whatever accommodations you’ve arranged for us, Theresa.”
I swear it took all my restraint not to do a happy dance, right then and there—I’d just gained a full hour in my day! “Great,” I said, and I just was about to add, “So I’ll see you all at the opening party, then?” when Uncle William said he was hoping to say a quick hello to Josh and Kat and Kat’s “wonderful parents” (whom he’d met at Jonas and Sarah’s wedding), wherever they might be on the resort grounds, even before getting situated in his bungalow. “Of course!” I chirped. “Follow me!”
And now, fuck my life, I’m leading Uncle William, Katya, Jonas, Sarah, and Sarah’s mother to the private beach where, I’m quite certain, we’ll find not only Josh and Kat and Kat’s “wonderful parents,” but Ryan Fucking Douchebag Morgan, too.
Which brings me to the bad news. The very, very bad news. I’m about to come face to face again with Ryan, the one asshole on the planet I currently wish to avoid as much as humanly possible.
Our group of six reaches the entry area for the private beach and, as everyone oohs and aahs about the breathtaking scenery, I scan the area, looking for Josh and Kat... and The Asshole.
“Josh and Kat must be in the water,” I suggest.
“Oh, I see Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” Sarah says, pointing toward the shoreline. And, sure enough, Louise and Thomas Morgan are emerging from the water, hand in hand.
So, of course, off we go—our merry band of six heads toward the water.
Gah. Why am I feeling like that poor, unsuspecting girl at the beginning of Jaws—the one who wandered into the ocean for a drunken midnight swim and unexpectedly became a human McNugget?
We reach Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. Enthusiastic conversation ensues, which quickly attracts a whole bunch more Morgans to our party, including Josh and Kat. And through it all, though I’m pretending to be sane and relaxed and focused on the people and conversations around me, I’m actually losing my freaking mind with anticipation.
Oh, God, there he is at the other end of the beach. He’s walking out of the ocean with Dax and Keane and some guys I don’t know, all of them carrying snorkeling gear.
Whoa. I must say Ryan looks damned delicious dripping wet. Holy moly. I’m not normally an ogler—I’m usually pretty good at keeping my eyes firmly in my head, no matter how attractive the male specimen; but, dude, I’m quite certain my eyes just popped out of my head and plopped onto the sand.
I force myself to look away from Ryan as he walks toward the group, resolving never to look at him again as long as I live, but, two seconds later, when it’s clear no one’s watching me, I can’t resist looking at him again, just for a quick second.
Oh good lord, that man’s body is a work of art. Literally. It’s funny, when Ryan and I were playing Hide the Pierced Salami earlier, everything happened so quickly and passionately, I wasn’t able to get a good long look at him. But now that I’ve got some time to scrutinize him properly as he strides toward the group, I’m noticing all sorts of details about him that escaped me before. For instance, earlier, I didn’t get a good look at that large booze-bottle-tattoo he’s got inked on his left ribcage. And those “V” cuts peeking out of the top of his swim trunks? Divine. I’d like to kiss my way—
“... is that right, Theresa?” Josh asks.
Gah. I immediately stop ogling Ryan and look at my boss. “Yes,” I say confidently, as if I’ve been listening all along. I smile at Josh like a flight attendant who’s just been asked by a passenger, “Excuse me, miss, why have all the gas masks suddenly dropped down in the main cabin?”
“That’s what I thought.” Josh turns his attention back to Jonas. “T’s got the entire itinerary in her head—the woman’s a human spreadsheet, just like you, bro. So, anyway, yeah, like I was saying, tomorrow we bike down the volcano and the next day we’ll...”
I stop listening.
My crotch is throbbing.
My chest is tight.
Ryan’s closing in on the group and I’ve gotta pull myself together and act naturally. But what’s acting naturally around Ryan Morgan? If we hadn’t had sex earlier, and I’d only met him today, would I stare at Ryan lasciviously or look away every time he approached? Would I talk to him breezily or stammer, or would I simply run away, screaming, utterly bowled over by the sheer spectacle of his gorgeousness? I genuinely don’t know what the hell “acting naturally” would be around someone as glorious as Ryan Asshole Morgan.
Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection Page 129
