Between Us: Sex on the Beach (2 page)

“Of course not.” I tugged my sun hat lower, peeking over my shoulder as I did so. “I’m just man-hunting is all. You should be, too. We agreed we’d all get laid this weekend.”

“I’m looking.” Cassie took a sip of her drink, her blonde hair sparkling under the twinkling lights overhead. “Kinda.”

“Are we still splitting up as much as possible?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah, we have to. It’s why we have separate rooms. We won’t get laid if we’re two to a bed.” I looked at the guy at the bar again. I needed an excuse to get up there. “Are you girls ready for a refill yet?”

They’d decorated the outside bar with white lights all over, and tiny little lanterns hung from the wood ceiling beams overhead. “I can’t down them like there’s no tomorrow. Something tells me a hospital visit is
not
on your spring break agenda,” Cassie said.

I pointed at her with my drink, concern for their safety taking over. Maybe we shouldn’t split up. What if something happened to one of them? I’d die. “Absolutely not. Watch how much you drink. Balance it out with water at all times, never accept a drink from a stranger, and we have to make sure to keep in contact via text at least a few times a day, so we know we’re all okay.”

“We already knew that,” Quinn said, her soft voice crystal clear. Her long, dark hair was flawless, as usual, and her dark eyes narrowed on me. “We got the usual Mackenzie speech the whole way down.”

“I don’t give speeches…okay, never mind. I totally do.”

Cassie rolled her eyes and Quinn snorted. I fought the urge to hug them tight, but that was nothing new. I always felt that way around them. Grateful they accepted me as I was. Happy we’d met. You know, all those mushy-gushy feelings that I threw into my music but never really voiced out loud.

They were the only ones who didn’t treat me like I was different because I was famous. It had been a refreshing change of pace, to say the least. We’d bonded two years ago in English 101 when I’d asked Cassie what a dangling participle was, and Quinn had answered from Cassie’s other side. We’d been inseparable ever since. I still didn’t know what a dangling participle was, but that was okay.

I had them. And soon I’d have
him
.

I pulled my sun hat lower and continued to scope out the guy at the bar. He wasn’t looking this way, so I feasted my eyes on his utter hotness. He had dark brown hair, and I was pretty sure I spotted a chin dimple from over here. His arms were inked up, and he oozed sexual confidence without even trying.

He was probably about six-foot-one, and he had the kind of muscles that showed he worked out, but he didn’t look overly big like those wrestlers or bodybuilders. He was perfection. Something about the way he held himself and the way he carried on a conversation spoke of a confidence a girl like me could appreciate. He looked like he knew what to do inside the bedroom
and
out of it, and that’s what I needed tonight.

“Girls?” I leaned in closer, and they did, too. “I think I found my guy. Ten o’clock. Black shirt and brown hair.”

Quinn peeked while taking a casual sip of her drink. “Hmm. He’s promising. But he kind of looks…dangerous.”

He did, and I liked that about him. It was the right style of dangerous he oozed—not the “tie me up in a basement and kill me” type.

“Yeah, I don’t know about him, Mac.” Cassie’s brow furrowed. “He’s tapping his foot to the music way too perfectly. He’s got to be a musician. And all that ink? He’s hardly your type.”

Oh, he’s totally my type
. I watched his foot move. Seeing him in perfect rhythm with the music was a huge turn-on for me. As a musician, I couldn’t help but be attracted to men who could carry a tune or a beat.

And this dude? Yeah, he had it.

“Hm. Maybe he’s a little dangerous, but I like that about him.” I took a deeper drink, needing the coolness to cool off my overheated cheeks. “And why is him being a musician such a bad thing?”

“Because he might recognize you and sell out for a quick buck,” Cassie said, her gray eyes twinkling. She looked halfway to toasted already, and we were only on our first Sex on the Beach. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Need I remind you of what happened when you almost slept with that guy from the club back in Chicago? You didn’t even seal the deal, so to speak, and the press ate you alive. Do you want to be role model turned Slutty McSluttergans all over again?”

I flinched. “It’s not fair. I’m a virgin, but the one time I appear in the tabloids, I’m a huge whore?” I took a deep sip, my eyes still on the guy at the bar. “Well, screw them. Besides, I dyed my hair and I’m wearing this big hat. No one will know it’s me.”

Cassie blinked at me, looking way too worried for someone who was supposed to be having fun. “Your brown hair isn’t all that different from your blonde, Mac.”

“It’s the best I could do.” I’d considered multiple wigs and big glasses, but that would look weird. And it kind of felt too
Pretty Woman
to me. “I’m going in.”

Cassie looked at him again. “But are you sure he’s the right guy to do it?”

“Yep.” I finished off my drink and stood, the empty glass in my hand. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Quinn called.

Cassie smiled. “You don’t need it. Just be careful. And thank you again for bringing us here.”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “See ya soon.”

An all-expenses paid vacation was the least I could do for them, when they’d done so much for me. It’s not as if I couldn’t afford it or anything. They weren’t as blessed as me financially, so I paid for them to come with me. That’s all there was to it.

I don’t think they really understood how much it meant to me to have two best friends I could count on for anything. They wouldn’t steal from me or betray me like my mom had. I flinched at the thought. I tried not to think about her.

It had taken five months for my father to realize there was missing money in my bank account. It had taken less than twenty-four hours to figure out why. It had gone into my mother’s pockets—and up her nose—while we’d been away from home. After we figured out she was a junkie, there had been a big, sloppy, public divorce, and everyone had felt sorry for me.

I’d been seventeen and stuck between two warring parents. We’d managed to hide the drug aspect of the story from the tabloids during the court proceedings, but God only knows how. I didn’t speak to her anymore—she hadn’t even come to Dad’s funeral. As far as I knew, she was still a junkie and always would be. Money had corrupted her soul. I would never let it do the same to mine.

I’d been extremely careful to keep my image squeaky clean ever since. My father had been adamant I had to make sure I did no wrong in the eyes of the media. That way if the truth ever came out about Mom, I’d still be the good one in their eyes. Never step out of line. Never get caught doing something bad. And never misbehave in public.

He’d died in a car crash two years ago, but I still lived by those rules of his.

I didn’t know any other way.

As I made my way over to the guy at the bar, making sure to swing my hips
just so
to attract his attention, I lowered my head. I might be a virgin, but I’d won
Who Sings It Best
at fifteen, and I’d been starring in music videos since I was sixteen. And what was in music videos? Sex, sex, and more sex. It might not be actual sex, but it was all about the approach and the hotness factor. And I had that down pat, so I could totally fake the rest. It was all in the confidence.

Even if the confidence was fake.

His gaze skimmed over me the closer I got. He adjusted his position on the barstool so he was turned slightly toward me. I knew this guy at the bar was the type of guy to fit into my strict plans. I could feel it in my bones, the same feeling I got when I played the right chord or heard a song that I had to sing.

It just fit.

“This seat taken?” I asked, my country drawl a little bit more obvious with a drink or two already in me.

He gestured at it with his left hand. “Please. Sit.”

I scooted up onto the stool, stealing a quick peek at him from under my hat as I did so. I eyed his ink, making out a few foreign words in bright colors, and some black swirls inked around the words. Flames too.

Hot. Really hot.

“Thank you,” I said, motioning toward the bartender. He came over and smiled at me. “I’ll have another Sex on the Beach, and I’d like two more for the table over there.” I pointed at my girls, waving at them to show that I knew them. They waved back, then whispered to each other. I turned back to my guy. “And another of whatever he’s having.”

He cocked a brown brow. “Do you always order for other people?”

“Sometimes.” I lifted my head slightly, still not making full eye contact thanks to my wide-brimmed hat. “I’m a girl who knows what she wants and goes after it. Is that going to be a problem?”

He laughed lightly, the sound musical. Oh, the girls had been right. I bet this guy could sing the dress off an angel. “No, that won’t be a problem. I’ll have two fingers of Maker’s Mark, please.”

I handed my card to the bartender. “Ah, so you’re a whiskey guy? Before he died, my daddy always used to tell me to find a man who could appreciate the finer things in life.” I deepened my voice. “‘Find a man who can sit back and enjoy the sunset and the way the waves roll over the beach on a stormy day. And he should also appreciate things like whiskey and Cuban cigars.’”

“They’re illegal,” the man on the barstool said, leaning closer. “But I do enjoy a good Cuban. Sunsets and the ocean, too.”

I flushed, my stomach tightening at the way he’d dropped his voice. This guy was affecting me in ways I’d never felt before. “Good to know you like breaking the rules every once in a while.”

He laughed again, his fingers clutching his glass. All I could see of him, due to my hat, was his hand and his legs, which were encased in torn blue jeans. Because of this, I could just barely make out the dark hair on his thigh. “You have
no
idea.”

“Oh, I bet I do.”

He tapped the side of his glass with his finger. “Pardon me for being rude, but can you lose the hat?” He reached out and tugged on it gently, trying to remove it but not being forceful. “I can’t even see your face.”

I held onto the brim of the hat, keeping it in place. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“The hat goes or I go.” He rested a hand on my thigh. My dress stopped right at the knee, so he wasn’t touching bare skin, but he might as well have been for the impact it had on me. I quivered. Yes,
quivered
. “I don’t play games. You’re either in or you’re out in my world. Is that
going to be a problem?”

I waited too long to answer. He sighed and started to remove his hand from my leg, intending to leave. I panicked, knowing nothing except that I couldn’t let this guy walk away from me. Not yet. So I covered his hand with mine, holding it firmly in place. “Fine, but first tell me what you sing.”

“What? How did you…?” He tensed. “Have we met before?”

I shook my head. “No, I just have a feeling you’re a singer.”

“Well, you’re right.” He hesitated. “I mostly sing rock. My style is similar to Hinder, I guess. Hell, I even share a first name with the former lead singer.” He tugged on the hat again. “Now lose the hat, sweetheart.”

I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer he wouldn’t know who I was—or that if he did, he wouldn’t sell me out—and then pulled off the hat. The second I looked up at him, I made eye contact, dying to know what color eyes he had. Turned out, he had the brightest blue eyes fringed with the darkest lashes I’d ever seen.

He stared back at me, making my breath hitch in my throat. And I’d been right. He had a dimple in his chin that begged for me to touch it. The dimple gave him a boyish charm, which contrasted with the sharp cheekbones that made him look hardened. He had a scar on his cheekbone, and his nose looked as if it had been broken once or twice, and he was simply…devastatingly
hot
. That was the best way to describe him.

And beyond that? He called to my very soul.

I almost laughed at the sappy thought. I mean, sure, I sang about love and heartbreak all the time. But the truth was, I could count on one hand how many actual boyfriends I’d had. And most of them were in grade school when I’d been flat-chested and buck-toothed.

I might sing about love and romance and finding the one, but I wouldn’t know what love was if it hit me square in the face. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if I really believed in love at all. But this guy? This one dude?

He made me want to believe.