Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(29)

“Now tell them why everyone calls you Captain,” Frankie suggested, sending a knowing smirk in his best friend’s direction.

“Nah, now’s not the time.”

“I’d like to know!” I piped up, leaning back into my chair, right into the warmth of Frankie’s forearm against the back of my neck. It felt nice. This whole dinner, the whole day—it felt right.

“Story time!” Nat clapped her hands together.

“It’s because I call the shots, sweet girl.”

“Get calling then, brother,” Frankie agreed. “I’ll do tequila, next round’s on you.”



After dinner, it was still warm enough for just the cover-up dress I wore over my bathing suit, and the beach had long been cleared in exchange for the dinner and shopping crowd on the boardwalk. Store windows were decorated in faux snow and sparkling ornaments, and a soft hum of classic Christmas music filtered out of open doorways as people walked about the pavement dressed in festive reds and greens.

Nat tugged Mateo by his hand toward another boutique after browsing several stores with nothing to show for it, but Frankie’s callused palm on my elbow pulled me back before I could follow them.

“Walk with me?”

I looked back at my friend and her boyfriend who hadn’t all but stalled in the store’s open doorway. Natalia was conniving, but it was because she loved me and wanted me to take a fucking breath and enjoy myself. I hadn’t stopped pushing go since we graduated, and I didn’t plan on it. Obviously to her, the best way for me to relax was spending some time alone with the man offering.

I raised my eyebrow at Frankie. “Why?”

“Because you want to.”

With a petulant sigh that didn’t at all mirror my actions I started walking. It was becoming harder and harder to play the mind game when Frankie was so obviously controlling the board between us. After that kiss, pretending I wasn’t interested in him would only directly fuel his ego, because he could obviously call the bluff.

“There are a lot of Christmas gifts I’m expected to bring home and you’re keeping me from getting them,” I stressed. “Angry pre-teens will be looking for answers.”

“They’ll survive,” he assured me. “They know you’re busy.”

Frankie led me off the well-lit boardwalk and back into the sand toward the water, the light breeze dancing through the hair sticking out from under his hat.

“I doubt it. I’ve been here four days and the last text I got from anyone was when I landed. Well, and Cindy my substitute who lost the fucking thumb drive with all my lesson plans on it. I had to log in to the school network from Nat’s hardwired computer. Mateo has so many security walls on that thing that Snowden couldn’t crack it.”

“Fucking Cindy,” he humored me.

“I’m old enough I shouldn’t care, but it’s still a reminder I’m no one’s center of the world anymore. Not like a kid is supposed to be for their parents.” I frowned. “I guess a phone works both ways, huh?”

Frankie worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a second as we walked. “I’ll text you then,” he decided. “I’ll text you every day. You should have my number.”

“Oh, should I?” I laughed. “I don’t know how many more unsolicited dick pics I can handle.”

“How many do you get?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“So…zero. Smooth way to admit you’d want mine though.”

“I don’t.”

“Phone, please.”

Hesitating briefly, I gave in and handed it over to him. The dim blue light illuminated his mischievous grin as he tapped away eagerly before handing it back.

I looked down at the screen. There was a text to my new contact labeled Frankie <3.

God damn, you know your way around a woman.

“Perfect.” I snorted sarcastically. “And I was worried about a dick pic.”

“Just keeping it for my records.”

“Are you this forward with all the women you date?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “I haven’t dated anyone in ten years. I was with my ex for seven of them.”

Ten years. He’d been out of the game longer than I’d been in it. Curiosity flagged me. His ex was with him through his years in the military, then. Mateo definitely knew her.

“That’s a long time,” I commented.

Frankie adjusted his hat on his head. “It was. And to answer your question with another question, are the guys you date not this forward with you?”

Obviously whatever had happened with his ex-girlfriend wasn’t a topic Frankie loved revisiting. He was a confident exterior, but every now and again the cracks did show.

I shook my head. “I can hardly tell if the men I date actually even like me.”

“You’re making my stomach hurt, Ophelia,” Frankie groaned. “I’m all about a woman exploring her sexuality, but please, God, please tell me you don’t sleep with these fucking idiots.”

“Not all of them,” I admitted, wincing.

“What am I doing wrong?” Frankie joked. Then, more seriously said, “That makes me crazy. Hearing you’re not getting what you deserve.”