by ANDREA SMITH
It had startled both me and Lindsey, and when I saw the expression on the dude’s face, I knew it wasn’t good.
“Lindsey!” he had hollered. “Get your ass in the vehicle—now!”
“Taz,” she started, clearly puzzled by his demeanor, “What’s up with you?”
“Just do it,” he growled, not taking his eyes from me as though I was some fucking predator out to cop a fuck with every dude’s wife.
“What about the jeep I rented?” she asked, looking back and forth between us.
“Cain can drive it back. You’re coming with me,” he snapped.
She turned and walked past him, going the forty yards to where he’d parked the ATV.
“You,” he snarled, jabbing his finger in the air as a show of force, “you need to fucking leave everyone’s old lady alone here. Got it?”
I nodded, not necessarily frightened by his obvious attempt at intimidation, but because he was right.
Let’s be clear: I had not made a pass at Lindsey, nor had I intended to do so. She had listened quietly while I told her everything that had happened a few days before with Ronnie. She had paid attention to me when I told her it had been a mistake…and nothing more than an attempt by me to deny what I was and had been feeling with Eli. And that feeling was fear.
Yes, I feared what I felt for Eli. So much that I wanted to deny to myself—and to him, that I felt it. Eli was the longest relationship that I’d been in—ever. I knew in my heart I could very easily spend the rest of my life with him. But it scared the hell out of me. It represented a permanent commitment and that was a reality I wasn’t ready to face. I had commitment issues; there was no doubt about that.
Lindsey had listened patiently as my story spilled out. Then she asked me if I wanted her opinion, because she had one. I told her I did and she gave it. Five minutes later was when Taz pulled up, going all alpha on us…figuring I was just some shit-stain that was making plays on all the chicks. Fuck me.
I got up, stretching and went into the bedroom where Eli was up and getting dressed for the day. I had heard him talking to the others about meeting them for brunch the night before.
“Are we ever going to talk, Eli?” I asked him as I stood in the doorway.
He scoffed, not looking over at me. “I think you pretty much said all you had to say a few days ago,” he replied.
“No,” I said, walking closer to him. “There’s more to it and I need to tell you about it. Actually, Lindsey is the one that helped me come to terms with it.”
“Lindsey?”
“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “Despite what the others think, I’m not some whore-dog out to cop someone’s old lady—or old man—as the case may be. I’m someone who’s terrified of the feelings that I have for you and the commitment that goes with it.”
“I’m listening,” he said, finally turning to look at me.
“It’s going to take a while to explain it all, Eli,” I said. “Hey, I know you have plans, man. We can talk later.”
“We can talk now,” he said firmly. “I’ll order breakfast in. Because one way or another, Cain, you and I are going to decide if this relationship we’ve had for the better part of two years is worth saving, and if so, how we go about doing it.”
“I agree,” I said, smiling and going over to stand next to him, wanting to touch him, but afraid he wasn’t ready. “Lindsey even gave me some ideas on that as well.”
“She did, huh?” he said, inching closer, his lips now capturing mine. “She’s quite a girl, isn’t she?”
On the eighth day of vacay, my true love gave to me: A commitment to do “Couples Therapy.”
(Thank you, Lindsey!)
chapter 9
On the ninth day of vacay…
~ Slate ~
What the hell was going on now? I fucking got up to take a piss in the middle of the night and found Lindsey asleep on the sofa in the living room of our suite. It was a good thing I had boxers on, because I usually sleep in the raw.
“Sammie,” I said, getting back into bed. “What the hell is Lindsey doing out on the couch?”
“Hmmm?” she murmured sleepily, starting to wake up. “Oh, yeah. Well, you had already passed out in here when she came over last night. Apparently she had Taz had some kind of fight and she needed some distance.”
“Ah, shit.”
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered groggily. “I’m sure they’ll make up today.”
“They damn well better,” I growled, pulling her close to me in bed. “You know I like to have our play time without an audience here.”
“I know, Eric. Go back to sleep, baby.”
By late afternoon, it appeared that Taz and Lindsey had no intention of making up. I wasn’t about to go another night having her bunking out on the couch in our suite. This was going to require some intervention.
I found Taz down by the pool alone. There were several empty beer cans, so I pretty much figured he was drowning his sorrows.
“Hey loser,” I greeted, taking the chair next to him and stretching out. “What the fuck have you done to Lindsey now?”
“What do you mean? What’d she say?”
“She didn’t have to say anything, Taz. The fact that she was camped out on our sofa last night pretty much says it all. Now, what the fuck did you do to piss her off?”
He leaned back on his chaise and adjusted his shades. “It’s personal, man. It’s our business and we’ll work it out.”
“It’s now become my business, Taz. Because you see, it kind of looks like she might be bunking at our place again tonight. And well, that kind of fucks up plans I might have with Sammie—if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “I’m not apologizing to her this time. I wasn’t in the wrong on this one.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I sat there with the hot sun beating down on me for the next ten minutes, listening to Taz’s story about going all alpha on her and Cain for taking some fucking hike on the island the day before. Fuck me.
“You know, dude,” I said when he finally stopped yammering. “You seriously just spent ten fucking minutes that I know I’ll never get back, on some trite bullshit like that?”
He didn’t say a word; just rolled his eyes and shrugged.
I launched myself up and off of the chaise. “You have a fucking Ph.D., yeah?”
He nodded.
“Then fucking use it, dude. I mean what the hell? If you can’t figure chicks out with all of that education you got, then you’ve been ripped off. And that’s all I’m gonna say on that except for one last comment that I’d like to leave you with: nobody is sleeping on my couch tonight, capisce?”
I found Sammie at the casino with Darcy, Lindsey, and Easton.
“Yo, Sammie,” I said, coming up behind her. “What say we go into town? Where the fuck are we again?”
“Slate,” she laughed, “I’ve told you three times already. We’re in Bonaire.”
“Got it,” I replied, putting my arm around her to drag her away. “Lindsey,” I called back over my shoulder, “Your mother and I will be spending a quiet evening in Bonaire. Oh, and Taz is looking for you. He’s at the pool.”
“Really?” she said, perking up.
“Yep. Said he had something important to tell you.”
“Thanks, Slate,” she said, getting up from the slot machine and heading out.
“I have a feeling there’s some make-up sex in the near future,” I whispered into Sammie’s ear.
“Slate,” she chastised, “that’s my daughter we’re talking about. I don’t like to think about her having sex.”
“I’m just hoping that they make up so we can have some sex.”
“Wait—what do you mean? I thought you told Lindsey Taz was looking for her and that he had something important to tell her.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged, “well, someone needed to push them together. I just got th
e ball rolling is all.”
Sammie stopped dead in her tracks, glaring at me. “Do you mean to tell me that you lied to her about that?”
“Well shit, babe. They need to keep the lines of communication open, know what I mean?”
“Not by having outside interference from you,” she hissed. “For your information, Lindsey had every right to be pissed about what Trace did. He humiliated her in front of a mutual friend, ordering her into his vehicle as if she was a child that had broken curfew. That was totally unacceptable!”
“Babe, it’s not our business,” I said, trying to soothe her and salvage what was left of the day.
“But you just made it our business by getting involved!”
She pulled away from me and turned to look me in the eye. “You were wrong, Slate. Oh, and by the way? There will be someone bunking on our couch tonight, but it won’t be Lindsey.”
She turned and walked back towards the casino, leaving me totally clueless as to why I was suddenly the bad guy. Fuck me.
On the ninth day of vacay, my true love gave to me:
Nothing…absolutely fucking nothing…
chapter 10
On the tenth day of vacay…
~ Darcy ~
I didn’t want to get out of bed. Not today. Not tomorrow. I didn’t want to get out of bed until this ship docked back in Miami and it was time to disembark and all go to our respective homes.
All of my detailed planning had been for what? Nothing! As far as I could tell, hardly anyone was speaking to one another. And each couple undoubtedly—with the exception of Easton and I naturally, had had at least one spat between them, if not more! What the hell was that about?
Oh, I know—the whole thing with the masquerade ball New Year’s Eve had kind of backfired in my face. I had been a little pissed at Easton, but by the next morning, we’d both laughed until we were rolling over it.
I mean, sure, I had accused him of flirting with Carly Bitters when I saw him pull her chair out for her, and signal the waiter to bring her another cocktail. He did seem to enjoy making dinner conversation with her, not bothering to notice that ol’ Roscoe Bitters couldn’t keep his gnarled old hand off of my thigh! Roscoe had kept threatening to dive underneath the table and retrieve the garter he’d put on me.
Finally, after dinner, I was able to shake the old geezer, but not before he had shared with me that he and Carly had an “open” arrangement. He said that they were ‘swingers’ and wondered if Easton and I were open to that sort of thing. He said that Carly had already signaled him that she was interested in ‘doing’ Easton. He wondered if I was interested in having him do me, orally, since his hardware didn’t rise to the occasion much anymore. He said Easton was free to watch.
I had politely declined, excused myself from the dinner table and immediately gone over to Easton and told him we were fucking leaving. Now.
I wasn’t sure if the rest of our guests were even aware of it. Once my fury had dissipated somewhat, I explained to Easton everything that Roscoe had said and done, making sure that he understood I was fine, and that no real harm had been done. I reasoned that the old man was probably senile. I mean, the last thing I wanted was for Easton to go back and beat the shit out of the old guy.
I was more than surprised when Easton sat back on the sofa in our suite, barely able to hide the amusement, before he let loose with his deep, rich laughter.
Really, Easton?
“Oh come on, Darcy,” he had chided me. “Certainly you can see the humour in that?”
“To be honest, Easton, you weren’t the one on the receiving end of that old letch, I was. That’s right. You were over at the other table sitting next to his beautiful young wife, Carly, weren’t you?”
He totally pulled an Easy-E move and cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting to see where I planned on taking this.
“I’m sure your attentiveness was a factor in her sending the old goat that signal that she wanted to do you and then him thinking I’d be open to…you know, cunnilingus or whatever!”
I had gone into our room, pulling the wretched gown off, and peeling layer upon layer of those stupid, fucking petticoats off of my body, kicking them away from me with my feet hard enough that they hit the wall.
I turned to go to the closet and saw Easton standing in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed and a devilish grin on his face.
“What?” I hissed, looking at how handsome he looked in his Victorian garb. He struck such a handsome pose; I’m not gonna lie.
I still had the wig on with the bobbing ringlet curls, and about three more layers of undergarments to peel off until I could put something else on…or maybe nothing else.
He hadn’t answered me, still standing there, gazing at me through shuttered lashes.
“I’m still pissed at you, Easton Matthews,” I snapped. “You didn’t protect my honor tonight.”
I watched as my words sunk in and for the smirk that followed.
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
Yeah. It was hot.
And in Rhett Butler style, Easton Matthews literally swept me off of my feet and into his strong arms, where he carried me out to the glass atrium off of our quarters, my ringlet curls bobbing against my shoulders, and gently placed me on the large, cushioned chaise.
He proceeded to remove his cravat, along with the rest of the vintage garb, while I watched in awe. He stood before me in his glorious nakedness, his cock erect with desire, for me.
“This is yours,” he had said, stroking his erection slowly, letting me watch him do it. “Do you believe that?” he asked, huskily.
“I do,” I had replied, squirming out of the rest of my clothes, wanting to get naked quickly, so that I could feel his nakedness against mine.
The sky was lit up by the millions of stars that twinkled overhead, their lights reflected back off of the ocean water.
Easton had come to me, dipping a knee down onto the chaise, and pulled me up into his strong and loving arms. His lips had captured mine and under the starlit night, enclosed in our private atrium, he had made the sweetest love to me ever. There hadn’t been a doubt in my mind that Easton Jamison Matthews had claimed what was his that night, despite my earlier interference.
I sighed, thinking back on it and how it had totally rocked, hugging my pillow to me. Easton had gotten up to work out and I knew he’d be back shortly.
I needed to shake these blues; otherwise he would think that I was an unappreciative bitch for all he’d given me with this lavish vacation.
I willed myself up and out of bed, putting my silk robe on and going to the bathroom. Once showered, shampooed, waxed and buffed, I wrapped my hair in a towel and went to the closet to search for what I would wear today. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d be leaving our suite.
Let’s see: Eli and Cain had been holed up in their suite supposedly ‘hashing’ things out about their relationship until they could get back home and enlist in couple’s therapy?
Yeah. Couple’s therapy. That had to be a ‘Lindsey’ thing.
Then, speaking of Lindsey? She was still pissed off at Taz for apparently humiliating her in front of Cain. She and Sammie were bunking together because Sammie was pissed at Slate for interfering in Taz and Lindsey’s business. So, Slate and Taz were roomies, for the time being.
Ronnie and Colin weren’t arguing, but Ronnie had started her period yesterday afternoon and it had sent her running to their suite in tears, for some reason. I had gone over to check on her last evening, but Colin said she had crawled into bed with a heating pad and a book.
What the hell? Maybe Easton and I would simply veg out in our suite today and play a few rounds of chess. He had been patiently trying to teach me the game for months. He kept telling me I needed to expand my attention span. Yeah, right. Is that even possible without meds?
I was still in my silk robe; towel wrapped around my head digging throug
h my closet to find something comfortable to veg out in today when there was a knock on the door to our suite.
Maybe Easton had ordered room service for breakfast this morning.
I opened the door to find a well-dressed woman standing there. She looked like she was in her late fifties to early sixties. I really sucked at guessing ages though. She was about the same height as me, and had a slender build. I noticed right away that she was wearing a dark navy blue linen Ann Klein suit, accessorized with silver jewelry, and Prada shoes and bag. It was a nice look on her. Her hair was dark auburn. I could tell her colorist didn’t come cheap.
“Yes?” I finally said, after several moments had passed without her saying anything to me. Maybe she had the wrong suite. She was kind of staring at me now, as if she had seen a ghost.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a half-smile. “Are you Lady Darcy?”
I genuinely had to bite my lip—hard—to keep from bursting out in a manic (or maniacal) laugh at that one. Sweet Jesus and the two or three wise men! I mean, Lady Darcy? Did I forget to wear my pantaloons today?
“Actually, it’s just ‘Darcy’,” I replied. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever been regarded as a lady,” I said, finally letting out a small (it took effort) laugh. I’d picked up on her British accent right away.
“Forgive me,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. “I don’t usually call on people without an invitation or appointment. I just learned that Easton Matthews is booked on this ship. I was visiting friends here in Bonaire. I couldn’t let the opportunity pass without seeing him before the ship departed this evening.”
Okkaayyy…it just got weird.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lady Sophia Windsor. I’m Easton’s mother.”
Holy fuck!
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, opening the door wider. “Please come in. Easton’s at the fitness center, but he should be back any minute.”
“Thank you,” she replied, crossing the threshold.
“I’m Darcy, Easton’s wife.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied, with a barely audible sniff. She looked around our suite, as if inspecting the quality of it. “I’ve kept track of my son’s comings and goings, though I doubt if he would admit doing the same for me.”
