Page 12 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“It’s all yours.”

“Don’t women always use conditioner too?” I ask, unsure how I know anything about that. I must have had someone tell me at some point, I guess.

She flashes me a smile before reaching for the tiny bottle of conditioner on the shelf next to her. “Yes, but I’m going to leave it in for a few minutes, so the shower is all yours.”

I watch her squeeze a quarter size dollop of white goop into her palm and then rub her hands together. A second later, she massages it into her hair, and all I can think is this is about as domesticated as I’ve ever been with a woman.

That’s what happens when you make sure to leave before the sun comes up. You don’t get to see this kind of thing.

Six

SALEM

I know I was the one who suggested we lie to one another and not give our real names, but all that’s gone on between us this morning makes me wish I at least knew what to call him. I was so wrong about what I thought last night when he walked up to the table. What seemed rude then now appears charming when I think about it.

He sits down across from me at the kitchen table and looks at the breakfast the resort has laid out for us. It’s practically a buffet there’s so much to choose from. Sausage and bacon with pancakes, crepes, and French toast, along with orange juice and what I think might be mimosas. It all barely fits on the table there’s so much.

“Gee, dear, I hope you’re hungry,” I say with a laugh.

Handing me a plate, he adds, “You know, I appreciate the service, but I’m not sure my whole family including four brothers could eat this.”

Before I can mention again we aren’t supposed to be giving one another any personal information, he corrects himself. “Three brothers.”

I watch as sadness fills his expression for only a moment, and then he says with a chuckle, “I forgot we’re supposed to be lying. Correction. Twelve brothers.”

Since he claimed to be an only child last night, I simply nod and smile at his attempt to keep up the lie. His face when he said three brothers tells me that was the truth. What happened to the fourth makes me curious, but that isn’t what our time together here is about.

“Well, maybe if they were all here, we could hope to finish all this food. I guess we should dig in. That French toast looks delicious.”

Leaning over the table, he stabs his fork into the stack of golden pancakes and lifts them onto his plate. “Great! You handle that, and I’ll take care of the pancakes. You can have the crepes too since they aren’t really my thing.”

I use my fork to take two pieces of French toast and then look for the syrup. I see him grab it from his side of the table, but he hands it to me instead of taking some for himself.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

He shakes his head. “No, you first. What kind of host would I be if I used up all the syrup?” he asks with a laugh.

I pour a little over my breakfast and hand the tiny white pitcher back to him. “I hadn’t thought of you as my host, but this is your villa, so…”

“Exactly,” he says before pouring the rest of the syrup over his pancakes. Looking over at me, a sheepish expression comes over him. “I hope you weren’t looking to use more because I completely forgot my manners and bogarted the rest of the syrup.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need my French toast swimming in syrup. Can you hand me the carafe of what I’m hoping is mimosas?” I ask, truly hoping I won’t get a mouthful of some kind of mango juice instead.

Happily, I smell the champagne as I take the glass pitcher from him, and a few moments later, the sweet and bubbly taste of mimosa hits my tastebuds. “Mmmm, I love these on a Sunday at brunch.”

“It’s only Saturday,” he says before stabbing his fork into his pancakes to grab a mouthful.

“They taste as good on a Saturday at breakfast as they do at Sunday brunch. Want me to pour you a glass?” I ask when I see he has nothing to drink.

He waves off my suggestion, though. “No, thanks. I’m more of an orange juice man. Nothing fancy for me first thing in the morning. Most of the time, I barely grab a coffee before I’m out the door.”

His mention of coffee makes me look around for any, but I don’t see a carafe of that anywhere. “Strange that they didn’t bring coffee, isn’t it?”

Glancing first at the table and then into the kitchen, he looks back at me and nods. “Yeah, that is weird. Not that I need any. I only use it to wake up for work. Since I’m on vacation, I don’t need to really be alert.”

I don’t say anything as I eat the rest of my breakfast, but he seems pretty damn alert to me. Our sex in the outdoor shower certainly attests to that. Then again, I’m sure he’s different back in the real world. I know I am.

By the time we finish, I couldn’t fit another bite in if I wanted to. Sitting back in my chair, I realize I have to leave in a few hours.

---