She still had the occasional nightmare about Garden Key. Although, the times when the bad dreams came to torture her were growing fewer and farther between. Thanks to Doc.
Snatching the pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts she’d pilfered from the galley, she tore open the wrapper and slid one of the sweet-tasting pastries from within. She offered the remaining treat to Chrissy, who waved her away with a “No thanks” and then added, “How the heck do you stay so skinny, eating the way you do?”
“Hobbit blood,” Alex declared around a mouthful of sugary goodness. “This here”—she waved the Pop-Tart in the air—“is what my people like to call elevenses.”
Chrissy laughed and then laced her hands behind her head. For a while, she was quiet. Then she said, “I get it, you know.”
“Get what?” Alex asked around another bite of Pop-Tart.
“Why you can’t stop staring at Mason. He’s one steely eyed man of the sea. Plus, he’s got thighs like tree trunks and arms like Vin Diesel. I bet you could have sex with him without ever touching the ground.”
Alex snorted. “I’d love to put your theory to the test. But in case it wasn’t obvious, he wants nothing to do with me.” And yet more than once she’d wondered if it might be possible to run through the house naked and—whoopsie!—fall on his penis.
Chrissy rolled onto her side and propped her head in her hand. “I find that hard to believe.”
Alex frowned. “Why? You heard him back at the hotel bar, getting his panties in a twist when he thought I was flirting with him.”
“You were flirting with him.”
Busted. “Fat lot of good it does me,” Alex grumbled.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Alex felt her brow beetle. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the same way you look at him. Like you’d like to cover each other in chocolate syrup and lick each other clean.”
The imagery was enough to make Alex shiver despite the warm sea air that washed over her arms and teased the hem of her shorts. “How long has it been since you went to the eye doctor?” she asked skeptically.
Chrissy frowned. “Are you saying I’m blind?”
“That or seeing things that aren’t there. But even if what you say is true, which it’s not, it doesn’t matter. Because despite how many times I’ve told Mason that all I want from him is a little of the old in-and-out, he doesn’t believe me. He’s convinced himself that what I’m truly after is a happily ever after. I think the distance between my lips and his ears is just too vast.”
“And because he’s convinced himself you’re after a happily ever after, he’s doing his level best to stay hell and gone from you,” Chrissy surmised, rolling onto her back and stretching out her long, tan legs. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Most of the men I’ve known are serial monogamists at best or commitment phobics at worst.”
Alex nodded and found herself turning things over in her mind. Replaying every word she and Mason had ever spoken. Reliving every look. Every touch.
She couldn’t help but wonder…
Is Mason using the whole virgin-on-the-prowl-for-a-husband as an excuse? Would he give me a different answer if I looked like Chrissy?
Glancing down at her pale arms, she admitted she had no hope of that. She didn’t tan; she burned. And every time she burned, she developed a dozen new freckles.
Which reminded her…
It had been nearly two hours since they’d left the docks at Key West. And the instructions on her SPF said to reapply every ninety minutes.
Finishing the last of her Pop-Tart, she dusted off her hands and snagged the bottle of sunscreen lying next to her book. She was in the middle of slathering her arms when Chrissy asked, “But why?”
“Huh?” Alex scrunched up her nose. “Why what?”
“Why has Mason convinced himself you’re after a veil and some vows if you’ve specifically told him you’re not?”
“Oh.” Alex took a deep breath. Unfortunately, it was long on discomfort and short on actual air. She admitted this next part with all the enthusiasm she’d give a mud pie. “Because I’m still a virgin.”
“Wait. What?” Chrissy jolted upright. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
And there they are, Alex thought with a frown. The bug eyes.
“Did you grow up in Utah?” Chrissy asked carefully.
“I’m not Mormon,” Alex grumbled, quickly explaining how it had come to pass that she was closing in on the end of her third decade and still in full possession of her, ahem, flower. She finished with “So it’s not like I’ve been saving it. I got to third base with Tommy Wilson my senior year in high school. We made plans to go all the way, but then his dad got a job in Seattle. Before we could do the deed, he moved away. Then there was the night in undergrad when I swore off my studies and went to a frat party. One of the Lambda Chi Alphas took me up to his room. He managed to get on the condom, but then passed out before he could finish the job. So now my damned virginity is an albatross around my neck. I just want to do it already and be done with it.”
“Hmm.” Chrissy rubbed a finger over her lips in consideration. “And you didn’t think to hit up Romeo first? Healthy, consensual sex between adults is his favorite pastime. He’d have happily had you on your back in ten seconds flat.”
“Ew.” Alex curled her lip. “He’s like a brother to me. They all are.”
“All except for Mason,” Chrissy countered.
“Right.” Alex’s shoulders drooped dejectedly as she rubbed more sunscreen between her hands. “Except for Mason, because he’s like…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know. There’s something about him. A steadiness. A…calmness. My entire life, my brain has buzzed nonstop. But when I’m near him, even when he’s grumbling and growling at me, everything slows down. Maybe that’s why I propositioned him. Because when he’s near, I can focus on one thing, the thing, instead of the million other thoughts and ideas I’m usually dealing with.” Chrissy was watching her closely, so she hurried to add, “Plus, you know, it helps that he’s hubba-hubba hot.”
“They’re all hubba-hubba hot,” Chrissy muttered. “It’s like opening up a damned GQ magazine every time I come out to Wayfarer Island. If they don’t manage to find the Santa Cristina, they can always join the exotic dancers of Chippendales.”
“One problem with that.” Alex lifted a finger. “Have you seen LT dance?”