“What?”
“The bank doesn’t care that you’re taking a vacation?”
Natalia’s confused eyebrow evened out under the thick frame of her sunglasses. “Oh, right. No, I basically make my own hours. I’m at the top of every performance report.”
“Huh,” I mused. “I don’t remember you ever being that great at math in college.” I closed my eyes and nestled my shoulders into the sand, digging my heels into two little divots for support.
“Sometimes it pays to step outside your comfort zone,” Nat suggested. “You never know what you might be missing.”
“Okay, I know we’re not talking about you being an accountant anymore, Natalia.”
“Would it really be so bad to let him in? You fucking kissed him already. You invited the need.”
“Put the phone down, Patti Stanger.” She’d been attached to her cellphone for the better part of two hours at the beach. “If you and Mateo are plotting some 90-Day Fiancé bullshit via text, I’m putting my foot down right now. Yes, okay, he’s hot,” I admitted. “Yes, there’s some sexual attraction there. That isn’t unordinary by the way. There’s like twelve guys within eyeshot right now that I’d let Baywatch me in the lifeguard tower.”
“Stop pop-culture-splaining me,” Natalia groaned.
“All I’m saying is that hooking up with my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend is an inevitable disaster waiting to happen. I’m not interested in long distance, and do you understand how awkward that’ll be when we’re forced to plan a Jack and Jill for your wedding?”
“I have three sisters.”
“And we both know group sex in a college baseball house outranks blood by a considerable margin.”
“Channel your inner sorority girl,” Natalia declared. “Twenty-year-old you would have already smashed and dashed him. The only difference now is that you’re both adults. Casual sex is like grocery shopping—sometimes you take the indulgent cookies off the end cap even when you know you shouldn’t.”
“Are you trying to say men are marketing ploys? Because I agree. They’re functional art at best. We have evolved past the need for penis.”
“No. I’m reminding you that you don’t have to clear your life schedule to sneak a little dick into your Christmas vacation.”
“Jesus forgive us.”
“And neither you or Frankie have any expectations past getting piss drunk with your friends on New Year’s. He’s trying to get back out there, you’ve been trying too hard to find a husband. You both need to relax.”
I sighed, snuggling back into the sand and looking into the blinding sun. Something inside me welcomed the idea of a time capsule relationship with the retired pilot. A funny, you had to be there type of nonchalance for the future if Nat and Mateo happened to stick it out for the long run.
She was partially right; there was no contract to be signed where Frankie and I were concerned. No fine print defining what each of us would have to give and take. And wasn’t that the whole reason for my spontaneous deviation to Florida? Doing something outside the realm of expectation?
I was expected to spend my holiday in Colorado. I was expected to celebrate Christmas day split between two households pretending like I wasn’t more like an estranged aunt than a doting older sister. I was expected to keep doing the balancing act of obligation and honesty to appease the people in my life, even if it meant putting myself dead fucking last.
Flying to Coconut Creek for three weeks was finally breaking the chain tethering me to the expectations.
“Can’t I just enjoy some much-needed relaxation on a beautiful beach with my best friend?” I closed my eyes and shifted again on the towel. “Is that too much to ask for?”
On cue the sun fell into shade and the hot breath of the day was wiped away by a sea breeze. “Apparently so,” I huffed.
I sprung to my elbows intent on using the lull to mix another drink from the liquor stash, and instead damn near caught a knee to the forehead. Straining to look up, I found the epitome of a beach babe eclipsing my sunshine and staring down at me on the towel.
“That bikini belongs in the Louvre, O.” Frankie whistled.
I shot a look at Natalia, who shrugged as Mateo dropped a backpack in the sand and leaned down to kiss her.
“You’re like a fucking caricature.” I poked Frankie’s ribs as he fluffed out an oversized towel next to me and sat. The few buttons on the shirt he’d managed to clasp came undone effortlessly with a tug of his fingers.
“Whose idea was this?” Mateo complained as he unpacked a hat, a bottle of sunscreen, and two flasks from his bag, tossing one to Frankie. “We have a perfectly good beach five minutes from the house.”
“The shopping is better here,” Nat replied, sounding bored. “Frankie probably drove anyway. Didn’t you, Frankie?”
“I love this beach.” He nodded, his eyes laser focused on my chest in the stringy red top. I pushed his jaw away playfully.
“I want it to be known that I had no idea the two of you were playing tagalong today. Natalia and I,” I said pointedly, “thought we’d get some sun and some dinner, do a little Christmas shopping, and then see the tree lighting on the boardwalk tonight.”
Mateo grimaced before taking a sip from the flask of what I could only assume was Everclear based on his reaction, and coughed it back up.
Next to me Frankie got comfortable and tugged his hat lower over his forehead. Even after several shirtless run-ins, I still couldn’t keep my throat from drying over the flex of his triceps or the broad stretch of his golden brown shoulders in the hard sunlight.
Nat stood up to cover Mateo’s hard-to-reach places in sunscreen, her petite frame complimenting his thicker build and defined lines like lock and key. Mateo wasn’t a tall man but he made up for it in looks and allure, and next to Nat, you wouldn’t even blink.
“Still mad at me?” Frankie asked, his honey gaze piercing me. “The unmatch thing is so last weekend.”
“I’m not mad, I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”
“I apologized. I sold myself out.”
“Right. Selfish man with his heart on his sleeve.”
“I meant what I said.” Frankie shrugged. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
“You didn’t even think I would remember it at the time.”
Nat and Mateo sauntered past hand in hand and Cap dropped the Banana Boat in Frankie’s lap. “Going for a swim. Coming?”
“Catch up in a few,” Frankie told him, popping the top open and squeezing a glob into his palm as they walked away. He massaged the lotion into his arms and neck, then down the planes of his chest. I watched, mesmerized, until he started flailing like a fish to reach the place between his shoulders.
“Need some help?”
“If you’re offering.” He flashed me a sideways smile, squinting one eye closed to shield it from the sun.
I knelt behind him, taking the bottle as he handed it over his shoulder, then got to work lathering the lotion down his spine.
Frankie was all soft skin and lean muscle, perfectly placed beauty marks that I counted as I touched them. He was an attractive man, that was undeniable. Every unsheathed part of him only heightened my curiosity. And maybe his forward confidence might have looked bad on another person, but he plucked at every beguiled string of mine with practiced fingers. Never crossing a line he didn’t first make sure I drew myself.