by Low, JA
“You’re a good-looking man. I’m surprised at your interest, that’s all.” She shrugs her shoulders, looking bashful.
Is she serious? Does she not see how beautiful she is?
“You own a mirror, don’t you?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she hesitates.
“Then you know how beautiful you are?”
These words stop her in her tracks. I can see my compliment has stumped her.
“I’m in the middle of a breakup.”
Ah, that explains a lot. Did the guy dull her shine because he couldn’t handle her? By the sounds of it, he didn’t compliment her a lot because she’s acting as if this is the first time she’s ever had any sort of flattery. “I’m actually supposed to be on my honeymoon.”
Oh, shit!
“But we’ve turned it into a girl’s holiday instead.” She shrugs her shoulders, awkwardly. “So, sorry for being a bitch. I’m just—”
“Hating all men at the moment,” I finish for her, which makes her chuckle.
“Yeah. I kind of am,” she agrees with my comment. “You seem lovely,” she quickly adds. “And I’d totally be flirting back with you if—”
“You didn’t hate men.”
“I don’t hate men per se,” she tells me. “Just one in particular.”
“That’s who you were on the phone with earlier today?”
Why am I asking for more information? This chick has baggage and lots of it, far too much for me to deal with.
“Yeah. I kind of left him at the altar, and he’s extremely unhappy.”
My eyes widen at her response. “I guess I’d be hurt being left at the altar, too.”
Humiliated actually, but I won’t tell her that.
“I have my reasons,” she replies quickly.
“I’m sure you do.”
“What does that mean?” She tilts her head, there’s a slight bite to her tone.
“Nothing. It means absolutely nothing.”
Why am I still entertaining this crazy woman?
“No. Go on… tell me,” she pushes.
“You really want to know?” She nods her head. “I’d be damn unhappy, too. I would also be humiliated, embarrassed, actually probably mortified being left in front of all my friends and family with no reason as to why my bride left me standing there.”
“No reason?” Her voice raises. “No damn reason! How about the fact that I caught him screwing my bridesmaid and best friend?”
Okay. Well… that’s a dick move.
“Who happens to be pregnant with my fiancé’s baby.”
Not going to lie, my jaw has dropped in this moment, and I’m all out of words.
“That’s after he moved her into our home as if it were a big favor to me when, in actual fact, it was to keep her close.” She catches a hitch in her throat as the words tumble out, those blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So yeah, I think I had a damn good reason to leave him at the altar, don’t you?”
I’m speechless.
Literally dumb struck.
One—who the hell does this kind of stuff to someone they supposedly love, and two—who the hell has time to do this shit? To fuck around on your fiancée with her best friend and never think you’d get caught?
“Shit.” She covers her mouth, her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. “I can’t believe I said all that.” She appears mortified. “Um… I’ve got to go.” She turns on her heel and runs back to her villa, which is across the path from mine.
“Hey,” I call out. Now it’s my turn to run after her.
She’s crying as she turns to face me. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” I don’t blame her. “I’m not normally this crazy. I don’t have arguments with strangers in the middle of paradise.”
Reaching out, I brush away her hair that keeps getting caught in her tears.
“You have every right to be upset.”
“Please ignore me.” She waves her hand in front of her face.
“You’re kind of hard to ignore.” I didn’t mean for that to sound so flirty.
“Is there something wrong with you, that you keep flirting with a hot mess like me?” Those blue eyes narrow in at me.
“I… no… I don’t usually flirt with women going through a life crisis, but for some reason, I can’t stop with you.”
We both stare at each other for an extended period.
“Are you single?” she asks me.
“Yes. I don’t have time for—”
The next thing I know she’s kissing me.
What the hell is happening?
Her luscious lips are pressed against mine, and my every nerve ending is on high alert. Her fingers tighten in my hair, which is one of my major turn-ons. Then she’s pulling me into her villa, her hands are all over my body, almost frantic with need.
I’m so confused. It feels so good, but also doesn’t feel right. Slowly, I pull myself out of her grasp. I need a goddamn gold medal for putting a stop to this. “As much as I really want to continue…” Looking down at her, I trail off. Those lips plump, ready, and willing for more. Pink cheeks. Ocean-blue eyes dilated with need.
“What if I told you, I want no strings attached sex. Right here. Right now.”
My eyes widen. This is probably every man’s fantasy.
“I think you’re in a vulnerable place at the moment from what you’ve told me.”
“I want to feel wanted even if it’s only for a couple of minutes.”
“It would be more than a couple of minutes,” I reply cockily.
“My friends have been telling me the best way to get over someone is under someone else.” This is a valid point. “Right now, I’m willing to do anything to get over him.”
Should I be offended by this statement? I’m finding it hard to think when my dick is ready to go.
“So, how about it?” She licks her lips, teasingly.
Fuck me! Everything in me is screaming, Yes. Yes. Yes.
“How about this…” I start, my dick is going to hate me in two seconds. “Why don’t you and your friends come and join mine for dinner tonight? We can party, have some fun, and by the end of the night if you still feel like you need to get under someone, then I’m your man.”
She mulls this over for a couple of moments. “You’re a good guy, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.”
Nooo, my dick screams at me.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I think I can handle that.” Giving me a small smile, she waits for my answer.
“Great. I’ve got to get changed. But we’re in the Tropicana Bar if you want to meet us there.”
“Okay.” She smiles.
You’ve done the right thing tonight, I tell myself. It wouldn’t have been the right thing to do to take advantage of a woman at her most vulnerable. Turning, I head out her door and down the path.
“Hey,” she calls out, stopping me in my tracks. “What’s your name?”
Shit, we haven’t even exchanged names.
“Noah.”
She mulls this over, tapping her fingers on the wooden door. “Chloe,” she states her name. It’s pretty.
“See you later, Chloe.” And with that, I walk back to my villa and quickly text the guys that we will have four extras joining us for dinner.
4
Chloe
I can’t believe I just did that. Who the hell am I? I don’t go around propositioning men. Especially after dumping all my baggage right at his feet. You’re such a loser, Chloe.
That cheating bastard has me tied up in knots, and I’m sick of it. I’m eager to get off the Walker Randoff rollercoaster of denial.
In his texts he has vowed he would do anything and everything to destroy me after humiliating him on our wedding day. He said I should have sucked it up and married him then discreetly, in a year’s time, divorced him.
Like what planet does he live on where he thinks that’s okay?
He’s knocked up my best friend. But true to his word, Walker’s des
troying me in the press with his bullshit lies, while flipping the reports of his infidelity onto me. I guess, in some ways, I saw it coming.
To add to my humiliation, all these women have come out of the woodwork and are selling their story about their ‘special’ night with Walker all while engaged to me. With each new story that appears, I don’t know who the man I loved is anymore.
Was everything a façade? A game?
He’s been telling reporters that we had an open relationship, that we both dated other people while we were engaged, and for some reason, I reneged on that deal. He even had one of his teammates vouch that we’d hooked up with me. And he retaliated and slept with Tracey.
I simply can’t.
I don’t want to be involved with this bullshit anymore.
This isn’t my life.
I’ve never sought being a tabloid story, a joke that late-night talk show hosts make fun of. Honestly, I want to run away and hide, hence why I’ve ended up on this beautiful tropical island.
That same evening after I found them in bed, I cashed in our honeymoon and chose another destination and shouted my girlfriends to come along. Screw you, Walker Randoff.
Of course, Tracey or ‘she who will not be named’ hasn’t apologized for her part in this whole sorry saga. Oh no, she’s right there beside Walker agreeing to all his outlandish stories about our relationship while sending me offensive messages behind the scenes.
I’m done.
More than done.
I want nothing more to do with her.
Linda, her mother, called, apologizing on behalf of her daughter. She doesn’t condone everything she’s done, but she has to be there for her grandson, and I get that. I understand an innocent little baby shouldn’t be punished for his parents’ indiscretions, but for me, I want no part of them.
I’ve resigned from my position with Walker’s football team. They agreed it was for the best too. Of course, they’re not going to let their star quarterback go, he wins them Super Bowls, after all. Let’s face it. I am definitely the replaceable one. They thought it was best that they gave me a generous parting gift—a year’s salary—in exchange for me not talking about the club.
Hey, I’m okay with that. At least the money will give me something to start over with in New York. I know I can live with EJ until I land on my feet.
Forget about them, I say.
Tonight, you’re going to have some fun. Get dressed up. Flirt. Drink. Stop being sad because you’re the only one mourning the loss of your relationship. Enough is enough.
Pulling out my cell, I text the girls that we’re having dinner with the hotties from the pool in twenty minutes. Moments later, my phone lights up with the group text going crazy.
Exactly twenty minutes later, the girls all arrive.
As Emma walks through the door, she simply stares for a few seconds with her eyebrows drawn together. “You’re not wearing that.”
“What? I think it’s cute?”
The girls shake their head at my dress choice.
“You look like you’re going to visit the damn Queen?” Emma scrunches her nose up, and her eyes narrow.
“I look classy.”
“You want to look like a hooker… but a $10,000 a night one?” Emma shoves a dress in my face she’s already chosen for me and brought with her.
“You need to get your groove back,” Stella tells me, ironically.
“I’ve kind of already propositioned him. He’s a sure thing.” I told them about my encounter with Noah earlier via our group chat.
“This is for you,” Ariana tells me. “Forget everything that’s happened if only for one night.”
One night to forget about how shitty my life is at the moment.
Maybe I can do that.
“You look fucking hot,” Emma squeals, making me turn around for them and then do a little curtsy.
“I feel very… exposed.” Pulling at the dress in an attempt to somehow make it longer, but realizing it’s so short if I bent even slightly, my ass would be out on show.
Emma has lent me a gorgeous black, sheer dress with gold stars embroidered over it, and yes, it’s a designer brand. It has a deep V almost to my navel which means you can’t wear a bra with it—which is okay for her non-existent breasts, but mine are fighting not to have a nip slip. Thankfully, there’s tape to keep them in position. The stars are strategically placed over my nipples. I roll my eyes as I look down. Emma assures me no one can tell I’m not wearing a bra. But I can. Us big-boobed ladies don’t go braless. Ever. Emma adds some cute boy shorts underneath and tells me I’m done.
Damn! I’m practically naked, there’s more material on my bikini than this entire outfit.
“You look amazing,” Stella squeals out.
“Work it, girl,” Ariana tells me as I pretend to walk the runway in my outfit, exaggeratingly moving my hips from side to side as I step.
“You look sexy but classy,” Emma declares.
“This is sooo not me,” I state while looking at the stranger in the mirror.
“Then it’s perfect.” Emma places her chin on my shoulder. “One night only, Chloe Jones. Girl gone wild.”
* * *
We walk in fits of laughter all the way to the restaurant passing other people on the way also heading for a night out on the town.
“You must be Mr. Noah’s guests?” the maître d acknowledges. “Please follow me.” He leads us through the restaurant and past the bar. We continue down a corridor until we reach an antique-style wooden door. “This is our private dining room,” the maître d informs us.
He pushes on the beautiful door, and we enter into a tropical oasis—palm trees surround the glass room, a water feature is set off to one side, and there’s a long wooden table down the middle with purple orchids resting in stunning pots in the middle.
“You made it.” Noah stands and greets me, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. He looks sharp in a fresh white shirt, offsetting his tropical tan. His light brown hair is still wet from his shower earlier. And those lips? Those soft, plump lips that sent zaps of electricity directly between my legs—something I haven’t felt in a long time—is something I want to try again, and again, and again.
“This is gorgeous.” Looking around the luxurious private glass room, I notice greenery surrounding the outside as if we’re dining directly in the forest, minus the mosquitoes. Tiki torches line the pathway outside which twinkle through the foliage like fairy lights.
“Thought it might be nicer in here.” He shrugs casually. “Let me introduce you to the guys.” Noah moves away from me, and that’s when I notice there’s another one of him. I take a double look and blink my eyes. “We’re not identical,” he states, noticing my reaction.
“Exactly. I’m bigger,” Noah’s twin cracks a joke. “I’m Logan,” he introduces himself.
“And this here is…”
The tall, broad blond guy dressed in a navy polo stands up. The man has to be six foot six at the very least. He towers over us. “I’m Anderson.” He holds out his hand to me, then to my girlfriends. His focus immediately zeroing in on Emma. “So, ladies, what brings you to the resort?” Anderson asks, and I can see the panicked look on Noah’s face as he tries to gain his friend’s attention to change the subject, which is kind of him considering he knows the reason we’re here.
“Girls’ trip,” Ariana simply states.
“Aw… the almighty girls’ trip. So, ya’ll single?” Anderson’s straight to the point, and I kind of like that trait.
“Yes, and ready to mingle.” Emma wiggles her eyebrows at him.
“You’re going to be trouble. I can see it.” Anderson bursts out laughing, pointing at Emma.
“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how much.” She licks her red lips seductively.
“You look beautiful.” Noah catches me off guard with his compliment. I nervously touch my dress, feeling awfully exposed, while once again trying to pull at the hem.
“Really? The
girls made we wear it.” Tugging at the flimsy material which leaves nothing to the imagination around my breasts, I continue, “I kind of feel a little naked. It’s not normally my style.”
Why did I say that?
He doesn’t need to know the inner workings of my lack of confidence. I should have said ‘thank you’ and taken the compliment as it was meant.
“Well, I think you’ve pulled it off.” He nudges my shoulder.
Just smile Chloe and take the compliment.
“Thank you.”
The night flies by, Noah’s friends and mine seem to have gotten on well. The drinks are flowing, the food is impressive, and the boys are a lot of fun, telling us stories of their time together while in college.
“I’m heading off back to my room.” Stella rises from the table.
“What? No,” we all whine.
“I love you, girls, but I have an early morning conference call.”
“Boo,” I hiss, a little tipsy. But I’m lucky Elliot let her come away with us as he’s so busy, especially gearing up for the launch of his new restaurant in Vegas. Stella kisses my forehead and slips away into the night without looking back.
“I think it might be time for us to get going anyway.” Noah looks over his shoulder at the waiter who keeps popping his head into our room to see if we’re anywhere near ready to leave. Noah pulls out my chair for me, and we all rise from the table, a little tipsier than we started.
Tick number one—I like that he’s a gentleman. Walker never did anything like pull out my chair. Actually, come to think about it, he was no gentleman.
We walk out into the night air, the chill floating around my body.
“Who’s up for a party at my place?” Anderson asks. “I’ve rented the penthouse,” he tells us.
“Does it have alcohol?” Emma asks.
“Certainly does.”
“Then I’m in.” She links arms with Anderson and follows after Logan and Ariana.
“What do you want to do?” Noah turns to me.
All of a sudden, my indecent proposal from earlier hits me.
Feeling slightly flustered, I answer, “Um…”
“We don’t have to do a thing. I’m enjoying your company, and I’m happy to spend some more time with you if you’d like.”
