And Dad? Ugh, forget it.
I mean, I was leaving tomorrow. Seriously, no one would notice. Or care.
Except for those two.
I could tell they were Americans; European men wouldn’t sit and gawk. A bare-chested woman on a beach hardly registered any more than a Rubenesque statue might in the center of some sleepy town square.
While one of them looked to have dozed off, Captain America hadn’t. That’s what I called him. No idea why, though. Maybe it was the tussled, dirty blond waves sitting atop a short-cropped cut. Or maybe it was the hard angles of his squared-off jaw. I don’t know. I guess it was lots of little things, an assortment of Greek God puzzle pieces, working feverishly to assemble themselves in the trashier parts of my brain.
But whatever they all meant, even from a distance, something about him screamed purpose. Like just his body, for God’s sake. He wasn’t weighed down by slabs of muscle for the hedonistic satisfaction of vanity alone. Unlike the smooth-chested, bikini-brief-wearing Lotharios I’d encountered over the past year and a half, he had them for a reason.
Hell, between the two of them, they had more six packs than the apparent cooler full of beer they’d brought along.
I stole another glance - this time when he turned to pluck another bottle. It’s not like I was the only one looking though. I’d caught him doing the same more than once, which I guess meant I was just as guilty.
Even worse, fleeting thoughts of falling into those thick twists of muscle that passed for arms tempted me in my weaker moments. I’d had my fair share recently, and just because I could probably have some consequence-free fun didn’t mean I would.
That’s what got me in this lovesick funk in the first place.
I blew out a heated breath.
Fuck.
Him.
Not Captain America over there.
The other him.
I turned and wandered off as the fading warmth of the fine sand kissed the bottoms of my feet. It was my last vacation sunset and there was no way I’d miss it.
It was time to say goodbye to eighteen months of memories - most of them worth keeping. I’d trekked far and wide, wandering through endless beautiful places. While my travels would’ve put most bucket lists to shame, they’d been all but ruined by the last one hundred miles of misery.
It didn’t start out that way, with Matteo I mean.
We’d met during a wild night in Barcelona, complete with too much sangria, too much club-hopping, and not enough restraint of hormones.
It began as a harmless fling, a fun little distraction.
But, like an idiot, I let feelings creep up, casting a long shadow over my better judgment. I even fooled myself into believing the budding affair might have a storybook ending, a happily ever after that would put my Aunt Marie’s romance novels to shame.
Matteo charmed me in ways American boys wouldn’t, or couldn’t. Even though he wasn’t The One, I expected the flame to burn hot for at least the rest of my stay. All the more reason I shouldn’t have ended it in Italy. Within a week of crossing the border into his home county, he scratched me off the list, disappearing from my life as quickly as he’d appeared.
I stopped, still remembering the lies he sputtered that brought me here.
I’ll show you my home town.
I can’t wait for you to meet my friends.
I love you.
Two out of three isn’t bad, I guess. And really, Antonia turned out to be a sweetheart. Was it her fault she grew up with a complete sleaze?
Ugh.
Trying to push the negative thoughts aside, I approached the water’s edge when something caught my eye. It’s then I noticed a sliver of bright blue, jutting its way through the sea-soaked sand. I walked over and kneeled down, probing and digging with my fingers. Dislodging it, I brushed away the dark silt coating and gave it a quick rinse in the receding tide. Standing once more, I rolled what appeared to be a stone between the tips of my fingers before holding it up and looking at it.
“Wow,” I muttered. The sun’s rays sparkled, illuminating the center of the gemlike stone. “So pretty.”
I don’t know how long I stood there staring, enthralled by its humble elegance. It shimmered, glistening like a rough diamond. The ocean had worn down the once sharp edges of it, a lot like my spirit had been in the past few weeks.
Curling my fingers around it, I dropped my hand to my side when skyward sounds distracted me.
I looked up where sea birds screeched overhead, soaring and diving, their sturdy wings keeping them aloft, high above the worried world of people. I’d come here hoping to rid myself of problems, not shoulder a whole new load on the twenty-three-hour journey back to Idaho.
I sighed and looked out over the frothy white waves once more when a deep voice hummed a question from behind me.
“Did you win?”
What the hell?
I never heard a thing.
How’d he?
My eyes shifted, darting to the edges of their sockets. I didn’t even have to look to see who’d approached, stealing up behind me like a lion on the hunt.
A smile crept to the corners of my mouth.
3
No Strings (Dalton)
She turned her head but didn’t speak as her blonde hair fluttered in the gentle breeze of the oceanfront spray. I was close enough to catch her scent. A faint hint of lilac and sweet jasmine blended with the surf-churned air, capturing my focus and pulling me closer to the source.
I knew she heard me.
I also knew what she was probably thinking.
Couldn’t stay away, huh?
Subtlety isn’t a strength of mine, on the battlefield or in the war of love.
In my hands, an arsenal of alcohol, one bottle I’d half-emptied, guzzling it down on the stroll. I hit the beer again, taking a quick pull and attempting to draw her out of her guarded silence.
“Guess that’s a no.”
It’s not like I gave a damn about the game. I doubted she did either. Then she turned, and my jaw clenched.
Easy.
Easy.
Only it fucking wouldn’t be.
The chick was an absolute knockout. She’d be right at the top of any man’s trophy shelf. And if my plan panned out, I’d be adding her to my collection long before the sun crested over the distant Capri-blue swells.
Maybe it was those early years, being shipped off to military school like a dog chained up in the yard after it’d pissed the floor one too many times. Whatever the cause, the effect had a way of heightening my interest in the fairer sex long before it otherwise might have.
Point is, for as long as I could remember, only the most beautiful of women were worth the pursuit. After all, you only live once. Tales from the rocking chair are always better when you landed the big fish, not when it disappeared back to the murky depths.
But I never breathed a word of my conquests over the years.
Outside the small circle of my SEAL brothers, my appetites were strictly confidential. Sometimes I wondered if my blue-blooded parents thought I might not even be straight but playing for the same team like my sister, Shelley.
But whatever, fuck them.
I thought for certain I’d bedded the best, had more than my fair share of beauties from one far-flung part of the planet to the other.
Until now.
My breathing slowed. I blinked even slower and tightened my grip on the bottlenecks so hard; it felt like they might crackle into shards between my fingers.