Page 40 of Letting it Ride

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. His scruff is thicker in the morning, bordering on thebeginning of a true beard. I wonder what he’d look like with a full beard. If anything, the thickening scruff makes him look hotter.

Like a sexy lumberjack. Mmm. I wonder if he owns any flannel.

He runs his hand over his jaw as he climbs out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom.

And I only peeked a little, honest. You would, too, if your crush was walking past you in nothing but boxer shorts that prominently displayed a bulge. He clearly did his best to tuck away what must be morning wood, since he’s not pitching a tent in there, but it’s still pretty obvious. And it is by no means small.

I settle on the couch, scrolling through my phone while Cam does whatever boys do in the bathroom. I know I take my sweet time with makeup and hair products and such, but he seems to spend longer than I do.

It’s a mystery to us all.

My phone contains email after email, mostly spam. I delete them one after the other, painfully aware as I do that this is faster than unsubscribing from all these lists, but that it’s not going to solve the underlying problem.

There are also a bunch from work—so much forteachers getting spring break off, right?—and from everyone else I know, all of whom seem to need things from me.

I huff out a breath. I hate putting off helping people, but this is supposed to be my time. Right?

It’s no different from any other time in my life. And usually I love feeling needed, even if it’s inconvenient. But I’m on vacation, so they’ll have to wait. Even Rudy and his SAT math crisis.

I shake my head. If he doesn’t know enough math to pass the SATs as a junior in high school, he might have bigger problems than passing a now-optional test and staying on the football team.

I lock my phone and drop it back in the bag without answering any of them except Julio. I love that kid. He’s really blossomed since mom adopted him last year. I make a mental note to bring him something from Nassau.

Then I have a moment of guilt and open my phone again to respond to messages from work. Just a few. And the one from Josie. If she needs a favor while I’m on vacation, it must be urgent. Probably. It better not be about avocados again.

Cam finally emerges from the bathroom looking like his usual self. He’s shaved back down to just a bitof scruff on his chin, and he’s styled his hair somehow so it looks messy, but not just-woke-up messy. The effect is attractive as fuck, and he makes it look effortless.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he rolled out of bed looking like that and not like the crazed guinea pig that I saw walk into the bathroom.

He gives me his signature lopsided grin. “Ready for a day of fun?”

“Yep!” I hop up and sling the bag over my shoulder. “Ready.”

The air is humid and fragrant with the scent of something sweet—pineapple or some other tropical fruit. The island is surrounded by the bluest water I’ve ever seen. I always figured those pictures were photoshopped, but it’s one hundred percent real and amazing.

After two days on a ship, the ground feels unsteady under our feet, but the feeling goes away as we walk toward the center of the city.

The island is dotted with multicolored buildings, with new things to find everywhere.We wander through some of the open-air markets, looking at handmade items and souvenirs.

I end up buying a bracelet made of conch shells for Annika to thank her for plant-sitting and bowls—also made of conch shells—for my mom. Then I grab some colorful woven scarves for my sister Josie and her wife Chris. I also pick out a tote bag for Holly.

I’m still looking for things to get for Maddox and Julio. And maybe the twins?

Josie and Chris’s little ones are only ten months old, so I’m not really sure they’d even understand at this point. Maybe t-shirts or something.

“What about this?” I hold up a hat woven out of some kind of straw.

Cam looks over his shoulder. “It’s cute. For you?”

I study it again. Maybe it does look a little feminine. “I was thinking of getting it for Julio. Maybe not?”

He shrugs. “Maybe keep looking? If you don’t find anything better, you can always come back.”

I take his advice and continue on in one direction while he goes the other, checking out stall after stall of colorful goods. Right at the end, I see it. There’s a stall filled with wooden carvings, with a man seated in front of it whittling a new figurine. And right inthe middle, there’s a whittled bear figurine. Julio would love that. A bear of his very own.

The man is busy wrapping the bear in tissue for me when a warm hand lands on the small of my back, sending tingles to the base of my spine.

“I got a lead on somewhere for lunch,” Cam says. “It’s supposed to be awesome. Kind of out of the way and they don’t cater to tourists, but I think it’s worth walking to. You up for it?”

---