Peachy Keen (5 page)

“So, Georgia, what’s a guy gotta do to be more than your friend?”

I snapped out of my haze. Nate was hot. The chest, the hair, that
Smallville
charm and even the cocky grin were everything I’d seek in a man if I were out looking at home. But there was this tiny annoying nudge at the back of my mind. I wasn’t as enticed as I thought I should be. I didn’t have those usual feelings, the ones that set my actions in motion toward the ultimate goal of a good time. I snuffed out the thought and told myself it was just the new environment that had me rattled. And maybe last night’s blunder. Letting a sultry smile settle on my face, I opted to play his Lois Lane in the sun for a little while.

***

Nate blew out a breath, wide-eyed with a stunned grin on his face before he took a swig from his bottle of beer. My lips closed around the straw sticking out of the piña colada I didn’t bother to pick up from the bar top and I shot him a sidelong glance, stifling a laugh.

“You’re serious? Evan Weston? The actor?”

“Mmm hmm,” I replied.

Nate chuckled and combed a hand through his black hair. The longer I’d stared at him while we talked at the swim up bar in the pool, the sexier I found him.

“Shit. Don’t go spreading that story around, okay? If all the girls here start thinking Ryan Gosling or Zac Efron are about to check in then none of us guys stand a chance.”

I laughed. “I won’t say a word. But you asked how I ended up here…and that’s how.”

“Well, I’m no celebrity, but I can promise you a good time,” Nate said.

The man knew how to lay it on thick. Just when I thought he was about to be genuine he’d throw me a one-liner that damn near could’ve been stripped right out of a cheesy teen drama…or worse, a soft core porno. I forced a smile and sucked down a little more of my frozen cocktail.

“What do you do, Nate?” I asked, trying to speed the get-to-know-you-small-talk-bullshit along. I’d never enjoyed one of those story-swapping conversations with a guy. It always felt forced and fake. Let’s be honest, when you’re both just trying to get in each other’s pants, what’s the point in hearing about their job or their favorite movie?

He finished his beer and flagged the bartender for another just before he answered. “I’m a personal trainer.”

“Of course you are,” I snickered.

“You?”

A sigh passed my lips and I regretted asking about his job. I didn’t want to talk about
my job
. “I work at a law firm. I’m an administrative assistant,” I replied, trying to hide the disdain in my tone.

“Ah, naughty secretary,” Nate quipped.

A cross between a grunt and a laugh fell out of me and I nodded, locking my eyes on the bar as I continued to drink. “Sure. Something like that.”

When and I turned to look at him, Nate tugged off his sunglasses and his face lost the ever-present frat boy smirk. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It was just a joke. A bad joke.”

I was at a loss for words. Sure, I didn’t want to think about my shitty job and my shitty life that were waiting on pause at home, but it had taken his remark to make me realize just how long I’d considered both my job and my life to be
shitty.
Figuring out what I wanted to do with my life hadn’t exactly been at the top of my priority list in college. I was more interested in meeting people and going to parties. I went to class and I got decent grades, but I was never actually thinking about what I was studying as being
the rest of my life
. Random business classes and technical writing courses got me a degree and I’ve been sitting outside of Mr. Leonard Young’s office doing everything from his memos to his dry cleaning ever since.

This vacation was what I’d needed for a while. Not just to get laid, but to really examine my life from a neutral playing field and figure out what the fuck I wanted and whether or not I had the lady balls to reach out and grab it. A chill ran up my spine. I wanted nothing more than to quit my job the second I got off the plane in Philly in a few days.

I sucked in a breath, hiding the fear that ricocheted through my insides at the thought. “Tell me about your friends, the guys I saw you with last night,” I said, changing the subject.

Nate laughed and I tried like hell to focus on his strong jaw and white teeth as he smiled. I tried to listen to him as he started in with a grin on his face.

“Those jackasses are Jerome and Paul. We’ve been buddies since high school. It was their idea to come here. They actually had to convince me. But now I’m glad I folded.”

What the fuck is wrong with me?
He was interested in me. Ready-to-carry-me-upstairs-like-a-caveman interested! He was undeniably sexy. I was in the most beautiful place on earth and yet…all I wanted was a friend. I would’ve given anything to have Danielle at my side. She would’ve seen the look that washed over my face the moment I’d started analyzing my future internally. She would’ve narrowed her pretty blue eyes on me and told me to spit it out. Dani had always been the girl I could pour my heart out to.

During one of our tequila and lime laced evenings on the floor in front of the coffee table, long before the night we decided she should ship off to Desire Resort, I’d felt my throat tighten when she started talking about Kyle. Their relationship was new and all lovey dovey and he hadn’t yet shown her what an asshole he could be. She was going on and on about some sweet bullshit thing he’d done for her and tears welled up in my eyes.

“I’m never going to have that,” I’d said.

The color drained from her face when she looked over at me as my expression crumpled.

“I never thought you wanted that,” Danielle whispered.

Catching a tear on my hand before breathing deeply to squash the rest of my outburst, I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Mama. Sometimes I think I tell myself I don’t want any of it because I don’t want to accept that my stupid parents and all their divorce drama screwed me up so royally that I’m actually just terrified of not getting it right. If I avoid it altogether and play it cool like I don’t want the yucky love stuff…then it can’t hurt me the way it hurt them.”

The words spilled out faster than I had time to even recognize what I was saying. Those were the kinds of thoughts that plagued me from time to time when my mother asked me when I was going to meet someone. Or when I got roped into being a bridesmaid yet again and waited for the moment at the reception when my chest would ache with dread. Cue the Beyonce track, my entire fucking life was a bouquet toss with everyone just standing around waiting for poor little Georgia to be next in line for happiness.

Danielle had put her hand on my face and smiled weakly. “That doesn’t sound like it’s out of the realm of possibility, G. But you’re thinking too hard about it. Just let your life happen. Maybe you’ll change your mind about relationships someday. But if you don’t, who cares? The worst thing you could do would be to change who you are just to play some part everyone wants to put on you.”

Words like those reminded me why she was my best friend. Maybe I did think too hard about it sometimes. Maybe other people’s opinions and judgments of my life and the way I lived it were little pinpricks in the back of my mind and deep in my gut telling me to change. Watching Dani and Kyle’s relationship bloom then wither and eventually die had been enough to validate my wish to stay out of the relationship game. And it was only once she’d come here…once she’d met Evan and fallen in love for real that I started to doubt what I really wanted again. Danielle and I didn’t talk about it again. In fact, I hadn’t even allowed the conversation to replay in my mind until this moment.

Two booming voices jerked me out of my thoughts and I watched as Nate got off the submerged barstool to go high five the friends he’d just been telling me about as they entered the pool. I smiled and shamelessly gave them both a quick onceover.

“Jerome, Paul, meet Georgia,” Nate said, gesturing to me.

They both did exactly what I expected and lifted their chins at me with grins almost comically in unison. I waved and picked up my drink, sucking it down quickly despite the fear of a brain-freeze.

“Shots?” Paul suggested, pointing to Nate.

“Shots,” Nate and Jerome said at the same time.

Sweet Jesus, get me out of here.

The moment I realized I wanted out of their reach, I shivered. That was…out of character to say the very least. My head was spinning too much on its own; I didn’t need to douse it in any more booze. I put my hand on Nate’s forearm as he leaned on the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention away from a few girls at the far end. He turned to me with a brilliant smile that gave me an unexpected little tremble in my belly. “I’m gonna go back to my room,” I started.

The three of them instantly booed at me. “No way,” Jerome said, throwing his arm over my shoulder heavily. The second I turned to the side to look up at him, I smelled the alcohol fuming off of him. They must have started a while ago. “One shot,” he pleaded.

I laughed and ducked out from under his arm. “No, you guys enjoy. I’m gonna see if I can get an appointment at the spa and maybe take a nap.”

The dramatic sad moans continued as the bartender set up four shots on the bar, but I held firm and shook my head, still wearing a cheery smile.

“Okay, okay, let the girl go. I’ll gladly take her shot,” Paul said.

Nate caught my eye as I started to wade toward the steps. He slipped his hand around my waist, halting me. I started at his touch beneath the surface of the water.

“Can we meet up later? Tonight at the club?”

Sucking in a breath, I scanned his face. Good-looking guy wants to wine and dine me then take me to bed.
Just fucking go with it, Georgia
. This—
he
was what I’d come here to do. Right?

“Yeah…Yeah, sure,” I breathed.

Without warning, his grip on my waist cinched tighter and he drew me to his lips. His kiss was surprisingly soft and he gently swiped his tongue against mine, allowing me to taste him. He let out a noise that catapulted my thoughts from confused and cautious to illicit and uninhibited—more of what I was used to feeling back at home when I was out on the prowl. Yeah, this was exactly what I’d come here for.

I pulled back from him and reveled in the relaxed look on his face.  “See you tonight.” I smirked as I ascended the steps.

6.

I Need a Lover

Harrison

Sometime after finishing my room service hamburger and the third episode of a telenovela I thought I was starting to understand, the sound of music and laughter coming from below my window caused me to look outside. Bodies poured into the resort’s nightclub located on the other side of the courtyard. The women wore tiny dresses and the men were in slacks and dress shirts. Despite the fact that the website touted a
fantasy room
in the back of the club (in other words, an orgy room) there was still a dress code just like the two formal restaurants.

I glanced back to where my suitcase sat beside the closet where I’d hung a few things up when I got in. Evan insisted I bring a suit and a few nice items. He played it off like I’d be stupid to pass up the formal dining choices, but I knew it was his way of making sure I’d have something to wear to go out and meet women. I hadn’t gone out in search of a date in a very long time. Evan had been trying to change that for a while so when I finally told him I’d take him up on the travel points he offered for me to take this trip, I thought his head was going to explode. He was damn near giddy when I gave in.

The ultimate decision came on the heels of an email from my oldest sister, Hilary. It started out normal, just doing her older sibling duties of checking on me after the move to New York, asking how things were with work and if I was getting enough sleep. And then…
I ran into Meredith over the weekend. She said to tell you hello. She’s not seeing anyone.

My stomach still knotted at the thought of Meredith Vernon. I know my sister meant well. She always liked Meredith—hell, all of my sisters did—but Hilary was the only one who never understood why I had to walk away.

I’d always been the easygoing guy. Yeah, I’m a perfectionist, hyper-punctual and ridiculously organized to the point of color-coding my closet, but I’m also good with change. Being on some else’s schedule has always felt normal to me. Growing up with four sisters, I was a constant fixture in the backseat of the minivan being carted to and from tennis, art camp, and figure skating. Now as an adult, my entire life revolved around my best friend’s schedule since he also happened to be my employer. I’m on Evan’s agenda 24/7 and that’s okay. Someone has to help keep his ass on time.

But there was a point in my life where I was on Meredith time. We were together for almost four years and from the very beginning, I was the page to her princess. I’m not even sure how it started. One day we were just dumb kids falling in love and having a good time and the next, I was her errand boy who sometimes got lucky. At first, I didn’t mind. I wanted to take care of her, but the day I found three things on her honey-do list that were also on Evan’s list I realized things weren’t how they should be. We stopped communicating like a couple and more like an employer and employee. I basically worked for her.

When Evan was engaged to Kimberly Jackson, I seemed to be the only one who knew it was a bad idea. They weren’t right for each other. He was mourning his mother and clinging to every shred of happiness he thought was slipping by him. Kim was a force to be reckoned with. She was beautiful and bubbly and there wasn’t a single head she couldn’t turn. But she was selfish and intense and all wrong for Evan. He didn’t listen to me about her when I tried to talk some sense into him, though my words may have been harsh at the time. Almost a year after they’d split up, he came to me and told me he’d known I was right the first time I questioned their relationship.

“I wanted to believe a ring on her finger would mean something. I wanted her to be the one so badly and I hated you for being right that she wasn’t. I should’ve listened to you,” Evan had said.