I finish off my breakfast, guzzle the last of my coffee. The sun is shining brightly, and I’m enjoying the way it feels against my face and shoulders. I’ve walked this street a few times since I’ve been here, window shopping mostly, except for when I needed the necessities I seemed to have forgotten and found the nearest big box store.
Today is the day I’m going to venture around the town, at least for this morning. In the afternoon, though, I plan to be lying on the beach. There are a few boutique-style places I see while walking down the brick-paved sidewalk. I make a note to come back. Those usually carry the softest clothes, and I’m all about comfort these days. But right now, my mind is on feeling the sun, playing in the sand, and maybe venturing out into the water.
I come up to a store, not really thinking it would be a clothing store with its name, but when I see the variety of clothing in the window, I make a beeline in there. Surely, they’ll have something.
“Welcome to The Wet Spot. Let me know if you need help,” the pretty girl behind the counter says as I take everything in. It’s a crazy name, but I bet it’s catchy for the locals and tourists.
“Thank you, I’ll let you know.” She’s got a deep tan, golden brown hair that has the perfect wave to it, and her smile shines through to her eyes. My gaze returns to the clothing racks. There are so many bathing suits to choose from, this could take a bit to riffle through. I’m that unicorn, you know, the girl who has tits and ass. Some call it a blessing. I like to call it a curse. It’s hard to find tops that fit a double-D chest, let alone a bubble butt from dancing in my younger days. Even though I quit in my teenage years, it still seems to stay, no matter what I do or don’t do.
“Wow, I’m not sure that would cover my left butt cheek,” I mumble to myself while looking at the bathing suits. I may have to go back to the big box store if this is all they have.
“I’d beg to differ, but you can try it on for me and let me be the deciding factor,” that rough gravelly voice I heard this morning says over my shoulder. I can feel his presence as he moves closer to where I’m standing. I don’t even know this man’s name, yet he’s had me go through a variety of emotions—need, anger, and annoyance are just a few of them.
I whip around, standing tall, thrusting my shoulders back, putting on a front when I say, “It’ll be a cold day in hell when that happens. What are you doing here anyways? Stalker much?” The woman behind the counter snickers. Maybe this man is known for being a weirdo.
“Funny girl, as much as I’d love to stalk you, I don’t stalk emo chicks that cry about boys, and you’re clearly the stalker in this scenario since, you know, you’re in my surf shop.” Fuck me running. Emo chick, I think to myself. This man is beyond full of himself. His mouth runs on end, at least that’s how it seems.
“Emo chick? Definitely not me. Nice store though. I’ll be leaving now. See you around, neighbor.” I start to walk around him. That big box store is sounding even more appealing now than ever.
“You sure you don’t want to try that on? I bet you could make a man fall to his knees, neighbor.” His hand wraps around my wrist, holding me captive, not hurting me, but the fission of electricity is definitely there. He’d be hotter if he could keep his mouth in line, though.
“Positive. I’m not looking to get a ticket for public indecency.” That causes him to laugh, yet he doesn’t let me go. Instead, his thumb glides along the pulse that’s beating rapidly at his lingering touch.
“Sunshine, you’re at the beach. There’s nothing that can be misconstrued as that here.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to. If you have something less revealing, I’ll definitely look.” I don’t even know why I’m still having a conversation with him. With any other person, I’d have shut this down and left without a backwards glance.
“Hey, Fox, you have a call from Slater,” the cashier says. It gives me the out I need.
“See you around, Fox.” I turn around, our bodies losing that connection. I’m thankful for it because I’m not sure I could handle his presence much longer.
“Later.” I don’t watch as he leaves. I return to looking, my eyes landing on bathing suits that have more coverage than the ones I previously looked at. I’m from California, so it doesn’t shock me to see so much skin. I just don’t feel the need to show it. I grab a couple of bathing suits that are what I’m looking for, a couple of cute tops, some shorts, and even a bathing suit cover-up. My next step is to see what fits and what doesn’t, then it’s definitely a fun-in-the-sun day.
7
Fox
Fucking crazy-ass surfer who can’t keep his damn panties out of a wad. I just got off the phone with him. I’m not sure what the hell else he could want, and I still didn’t get my hot-as-fuck neighbor’s name, yet she has mine. The way it rolled off her tongue, I want to hear her moan or scream it out while she’s writhing in my bed.
“What’s up, Slater?” I take the phone from Sloane, my eyes never leaving the blonde bombshell as she meanders around the store, picking up a few items here and there. I already know I’ll be getting out of here early today in hopes of seeing her again.
“That board, you sure it’s going to be ready and here in time? Hawaii is calling my name, and I want to get there early and see the waves, man.”
“I’m sure. I just got off the phone with him. He’s dropping it off tomorrow morning. It’ll be ready for you by noon. That soon enough, or are you leaving earlier?” I ask. If I don’t shut this conversation down, Slater will not shut the hell up and can keep me on the phone for hours.
“Yeah, I was hoping to leave tomorrow morning, but that’ll do. Thanks for rushing this for me, Fox.”
“No problem. I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.” I try to not let on that I’m getting aggravated.
“Alright. Later, man.” He hangs up.
“Thank Christ.” I look out over the floor and notice that during the time I’ve talked to Slater, she must have meandered into the changing rooms. Or she left. I hope like hell she didn’t though.
I turn to Sloane. “Give her the employee discount.” Not that she needs it by the looks of the house she’s renting, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do something nice for her either.
“Something tells me this should be interesting. Let me get my phone ready now. She seems like the type to give you hell,” Sloane jokes, but returns to the magazine she’s reading.
“Oh, you have no idea. Get her name too, if you don’t mind.” It’s definitely on my to-do list, and if I can have it before she gives it to me, that’ll give me a leg up on who she is.
“Your funeral,” Sloane mutters, then tunes me out completely. The women in my life sure know how to give me hell, mainly the blonde-haired beauty, and hopefully after today, I’ll have a name for her.
“What a way to go, though. I’ll be in the office. I’m going to get payroll done so Monday will be an easier one. Last week was a clusterfuck, and if we never have one of those again, it’ll be good.” It’s usually just Sloane and me on payroll, but with sponsoring the beach volleyball tournament for active and veteran military, let’s just say it’s been worse than ever and makes the accounting side of The Wet Spot a total nightmare to deal with.