“This was your last day?” Shannon asked. How did she miss that?
“Work calls.”
“If you’re ever in LA . . . ,” Victor offered.
“I’m sure we’ll make it there sooner or later.” Erasmo put his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Our place is small, but you’re welcome anytime—”
“No long goodbyes. The night just started,” Avery snapped, cutting them off. “It’s a small world. Made smaller by airplanes and shit like that.”
Everyone stopped talking and stared at her.
Avery looked around, oblivious to the effect her words had on the group. “God, I’m hungry.”
Shannon hid her smile behind her hand, counting the hours until the morning when Avery wouldn’t be able to deny her fate any longer.
If there was one thing she was well read on, it was pregnant women and single mothers. She was happy that her friend was only half of that equation—not that Avery couldn’t handle taking on a child by herself. She could. Liam, however, would balance out all of Avery’s insecurities.
Once her drink arrived, Shannon lifted it in a toast. “To new friends.”
Victor touched his glass to hers. “To surprising friends.”
Their eyes caught and gooseflesh prickled on her arms.
Gooseflesh and Victor were words that had no right belonging together. Her gaze moved to his lips. It had been a long time since she’d noticed a man’s lips.
“When do you girls leave?” Dylan asked, pulling Shannon out of her thoughts of first kisses and butterflies.
“Day after tomorrow.” Their time had flown by.
“What about you, Victor?”
Victor watched Shannon as he answered, “I’m booked through Monday, but ah . . . I don’t know.”
“I thought Corrie said you had two weeks,” Shannon said.
“Another week in Cozumel . . . I’m not feeling it. I took a whole week, that’s big for me,” he said, directed at Shannon.
“I’m pleasantly surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
He chuckled. “Me either.”
“At least now you have the right clothes if you ever come back.” Dylan nudged Victor.
“Why would he come back?” Erasmo asked Dylan. “This is where the ex dumped him.”
“Hello, Mr. Sensitivity!” Dylan scolded.
“Sorry.”
Victor brushed them off. “I have less memories of her here than I do of all of you.”
Shannon doubted he would ever be able to return and not think of Corrie.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to her when you see her again?” Avery asked.
Victor looked away. “No. I’ve actually done very little thinking about the whole thing.”
That explains his flirting, Shannon thought. Ignore the woman at home so you could concentrate on the woman in front of you. In this case, her.
“Lots of fish in the sea. I’m sure you’ll find someone new to swim with.” Avery smiled at Victor when she spoke.
“Lots of sharks out there, too,” Dylan added.
Avery narrowed her eyes. “Shannon’s not a shark.”
“I didn’t say anything about Shannon.”
Shannon jumped in. “I’m not swimming in anyone’s ocean.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Erasmo asked.
“Duh, Victor and Shannon,” Avery said.
Shannon wanted to duck under the tiny table. “There is no Victor and Shannon.” Shannon attempted to bury Avery with a look.
It didn’t work. “We’d all have to be blind to not see this thing that’s going on here.” Avery waved her hand in the air between the two of them.
Erasmo caught on and smirked. “She has a point.”
“See?” Avery sat taller, as if she’d made her case known. “So no talking about sharks in the Victor and Shannon Ocean.”
“Now you lost me again.” Erasmo frowned.
Dylan leaned over. “Avery said there were lots of fish in the sea, I said beware of sharks—”
“Shannon’s not a shark,” was Erasmo’s reply.
“Exactly!” Avery lifted a hand in the air for him to fist bump.
It was like watching a skit of “Who’s on First,” only Shannon was standing on second.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. There is nothing going on between Victor and me.” She looked at Victor for his agreement.
He stared at her.
“You were engaged six days ago.”
“That’s true.”
“I thought you were a complete asshole.”
Okay, what had she said to pull that cocky smirk from his lips?
“What?” she asked him.
“Thought? Past tense.”
She backed out. “I’d go back to thinking that if you were hitting on me six days out from a near-marriage breakup. I mean, c’mon. Corrie’s perfume still lingers in your hair.”
It seemed the whole table leaned forward to sniff Victor.
“I’ve showered,” he told them.
Erasmo laughed.
“Figuratively speaking!” These people were exhausting her.
Victor leaned back on his hands, amused with himself, the conversation.
She wanted to hit him.
“So what is the appropriate time frame for hitting on someone after a near-marriage breakup?” Victor asked.
“I have no idea. But it’s a hell of a lot longer than six days.” She glared at him.
“Three months,” Erasmo said.
“That’s about right. Otherwise it’s just a rebound thing, and those never have a chance.” Dylan and Erasmo were on the same page.
“A lot can change in three months,” Avery said, staring away from the table. “Three months ago I was getting married, and now I’m knocked up.”
Victor snapped his gaze toward Avery.
Dylan and Erasmo opened their mouths in awe.
Shannon smiled and shook her head.
“What?” Avery asked as if completely clueless to the bombshell she’d just revealed.
“You told everyone you’re pregnant,” Shannon told her.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Knocked up . . . pregnant. Same thing,” Dylan said, his gaze flickering to Victor.
“Might be. Maybe . . . oh, God.” Avery dropped her head in her arms.
Shannon looked over at Victor. “This is what denial looks like,” she told him.
“I take it you just found out,” Erasmo said.
With Avery at a loss for words, Shannon answered for her. “She pees on the stick in the morning.”
Avery gently hit her head against her folded arms.
“Can I say congratulations?” Victor asked Shannon.
Avery moaned.
Shannon laughed.
And the men lifted their glasses in a silent toast to the woman in denial.
Avery lifted her head long enough to glare. “I’m not the one with the biological clock ticking here—that’s you.”
Shannon offered a nervous glance toward Victor.
“If hormones are any indication, I’d say you can skip the pee stick in the morning,” Dylan said.
Avery must have caught on to what she was saying and backed up. “I’m a horrible friend. I’m sorry, Shannon. This week was supposed to be about you.”
Avery’s bombshell pulled the focus away from him and Shannon. Good thing, since he felt Shannon was pretty close to making an excuse to leave the table.
Their dinner was Mexico’s idea of barbeque, which meant open fire cooking of fresh fish and a big slab of beef. They had family-style service, with the table filled with sides and spices.
For the first time since Victor had met Shannon, she was silent and observant throughout the whole meal. Maybe she was pissed at her friend for pointing out his attraction, but he wanted to believe that it was her attraction to him that had Shannon miffed. He suspected that the biological clock comment was more to blame. What
ever it was, it kept her deep in her thoughts with only minimal comments about Avery’s pregnancy.
It was only when Avery started doubting her ability to be a parent that Shannon snapped out of her trance.
“I’m still a kid,” Avery started. “I can show my child how to skip school and spend their tuition on trips to places like this. How to sneak out of the house.”
“First of all, you’re not a kid, you’re thirty-three . . . didn’t we just talk about this?”
“Still a kid.”
Everyone denied Avery’s attachment to that argument.
“Second of all, you have so much more to teach your child than sneaking out of the house. If you have a girl, she’ll learn how to break a man’s arm before he can get to second base.”
Avery seemed to like that.
Shannon looked around the table. “Avery studies krav maga.”
“That explains the tattoo on your arm,” Erasmo said. The word warrior was illustrated with a small spider.
“You’re overprotective of those you love. You insisted on coming here this week for me.”
Avery nodded a few times. “That’s true.”
“You needed a bodyguard?” Victor asked.
“Not that, just . . .”
“Part of the girl code,” Avery continued for her. “We don’t go to clubs alone if we have a friend to come along. Keeps the creeps away or helps vet the guys you want to know.”
“So you were on the prowl this week?” Erasmo asked. “You should have told us, we could have helped.”
Victor didn’t think Shannon’s face could turn redder.
She started to shake her head.
Avery stopped her. “Girl, your face isn’t gonna lie for you.”
“Okay. Fine. I’m single. I’m allowed.”
They all laughed.
Victor and Dylan exchanged a look. The woman was on the prowl all right. But did she want a seven-pound reminder of her trip to Tulum?
“You still have time,” Avery told her. “There’s a couple cute guys at the bar.”
They all turned their heads.
Victor frowned.
“Are you talking about the blond guy that looks like he lives on a surfboard?” Shannon asked.
“He is cute,” Dylan said.
“He’s twelve,” Shannon pointed out.
“He’s drinking at a bar, I doubt that,” Victor said.
“Okay, eighteen . . . we are in Mexico.”
He looked more like midtwenties to Victor.
“If he’s single and straight, you could tap that in ten minutes,” Avery challenged.
“You know you sound like a dude, right?” Erasmo asked Avery.
“Hey, women talk as much smack as men.”
Victor saw the game as it was rolling out. He also noticed how Shannon started rubbing her hands on her thighs. He’d bet money that she wouldn’t even try hitting on Mr. College Kid on Spring Break.
“I’d have given my left nut for a lady like you when I was his age,” Victor said.
Shannon snapped her eyes to his. “Are you suggesting I hit on him?”
He couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth. “I can’t ask you out for three months, apparently. A lot can change in three months.” Like she could find someone to take care of that biological ticking clock. Suddenly his challenge sat like acid in his stomach.
The table went silent.
Shannon pushed back from the table and came to her feet.
Victor’s mouth went dry.
There was no way . . .
“Challenge accepted.”
She’ll turn around.
She’ll turn around . . .
Oh, damn, she isn’t turning around.
Chapter Sixteen
Damp palms and a racing heart . . . you’d think she was at a junior high school formal, asking the popular boy to dance.
The eyes from everyone at Shannon’s table bored into her back as she approached Surfer Boy.
Hearing Avery’s words in her head, Shannon moved in beside her target and leaned against the counter as if she were attempting to gain the bartender’s attention. “I hope you don’t mind me squeezing in,” she said over the noise of the bar.
Surfer Boy turned her way midsentence with his buddy, did a double take, and blew off his friend.
She pushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled.
“Well, hello.” As hellos went, his was suggestive.
“Hello.” She smiled and ignored the nerves jumping in her gut. Okay, so he wasn’t eighteen . . . but it was highly possible he was in his early twenties. Very cute, but cute being the key word. His gaze did a quick up and down. Not gay, she concluded.
“I’m Steve.” He put his hand out to hers.
“Shannon.” She reached out to shake his hand, and he turned it around and kissed the back of it. She wanted to find the gesture endearing, but all it did was make her want to laugh. Like where had he learned that? TV? Netflix?
“You’re stunning,” he said with a wink.
She took her hand back, placed it against her chest. “You’re sweet.” Okay, okay . . . she’d proved her point. The last thing she wanted to do was lead this kid on only to cut him off.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
“Margaritas, but I can buy my own drink.”
He reached out and placed a hand on her arm.
She looked over her shoulder to see if her party was watching. Three sets of eyes were pinned.
Victor was gone.
“Let me buy you one. It’s our first night here,” he said.
Without being terribly obvious, she wiggled out from under Steve’s hand.
“Is that right? How long will you be here?” Shannon smiled at her admirer and glanced away.
Where is Victor?
“A week. Then it’s back to the grind.”
“Work?”
Steve shook his head. “School. One more year and I’ll be out.”
The bartender stopped in front of them.
“The lady will have a margarita.”
She tried to wave the bartender off. “It’s okay, I can—”
Steve reached for her hand and placed it on the bar. “I insist.”
Okay, no more touching.
She pulled away.
“There you are!” Victor appeared behind her, a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
She sighed in relief.
“Is she bugging you, young man?” Victor asked Steve.
Steve dropped his hand, his smile gone. “Excuse me?”
Victor turned Shannon toward him, both hands on her shoulders. “Do you really want to blow sixty-two days of sobriety now? You’ve come so far.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Lost for words, Shannon stared and blinked.
Victor placed an arm over Shannon’s shoulders and glanced at Steve. “It took me six months to get her into AA.”
Steve stiffened when the bartender delivered the margarita.
All three of them looked at it.
Victor reached into his pocket, tossed a few bills on the counter, grabbed Shannon’s hand, and dragged her away.
“AA? Really?” she asked when they could no longer be overheard.
Victor didn’t answer, he just kept moving. She had to jog to keep up with him. Instead of heading back to their table, he pulled her toward the beach, away from the people, the music . . . the lights.
“Slow down.”
Victor stopped without warning, and she ran into him.
The amusement in his eyes was replaced by something much more heated. “How far would you have gone?”
“What?”
“With the twelve-year-old? How far?”
Oh my God, what was he accusing her of? “He wasn’t twelve, and hello . . . you challenged me.”
“Is that all it takes? A dare?”
His angry questions made her blood boil. She snapped her hand out of his. “
You started it.”
“He was pawing you.”
“He was trying to pick me up.”
“And getting somewhere, apparently.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What is this? Jealousy?”
Victor opened his mouth, closed it.
“You have no right to be jealous. I’ve known you for what, six days? All you’ve done was toss a couple compliments and flirtatious barbs. If I want to hook up with College Boy, I will!”
Victor’s nose flared, tension snapped in the air.
“Fine,” he gritted out between his teeth.
“Fine!” Shannon turned on her heel and made it three steps.
Victor caught up with her, grabbed her hand, and spun her around. “Not fine.”
His lips crashed down to hers, heated with the same emotion she felt bursting from her skin.
She sucked in a breath, stunned still, and let him fold her into his arms.
Victor kissed her with such fierce abandon the only thing she could do was hold on and try to breathe. Her mouth was open, gasping, and he was laying claim everywhere he could.
He’s kissing me.
Oh, God, it had been so long.
The scent of him, the need in him . . . in her.
Shannon’s body caught up with his. She tilted her head and kissed him back, full, open-mouth kisses that skipped anything timid and went right into overdrive. Raw and needy, she wrapped her arms around his back, dug her fingernails into his shirt.
His hands were in her hair, the back of her neck, her spine. He didn’t let her up for air, just kept kissing her for what felt like hours.
Only when his pace slowed down and his kiss became softer did her brain engage. Bad idea . . . it didn’t matter that she wanted this man or that her body was damn near begging for him.
Perfect timing for a baby.
The second the thought popped in her head, Shannon slammed on the brakes. She dragged her swollen mouth away from his. “I can’t.” Her breath came in pants.
“You want this,” he whispered.
No denying her desire, her reactions proved he was right. “But I can’t do this to you.”
He smiled down at her in the moonlight.
Slowly, their breathing returned to normal.
“I want to see you again.”
“We aren’t leaving until—”
“Back home,” he clarified.
Faking Forever (First Wives Book 4) Page 14
