Page 9 of Resorting to Romance

Most days, I don’t give Brad a second thought. He’s a part of my history—someone I left in my past while I moved forward to build a life for Noah and myself. Of course, the briefest thought of him flits through my mind on occasion, like today, when Noah said he was putting my name down under the section for “parents” on his project. Even then, I just thought, Iamboth your parents. Or, at least I do my best to fill in the blanks.

But now? Now, I’m thinking of Brad. I’ll probably barely be able to think of anything else until I know the details of his plans for certain.

What if Brad actually is coming to Marbella?

THREE

Kai

I'm very much a homebody.

~ Liam Neeson

Club Descanso is loud and crowded. Or maybe I’m getting too old for this scene.

“Kai?” A woman I recognize from the resort approaches the high-top table where I’m sitting watching Ben, Summer, Riley and Cam out on the dance floor.

“Yeah. Hi.” I don’t use her name because, honestly, I forgot it.

“Gemma,” she says, giggling lightly and pointing to herself with one manicured finger.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I knew that.” I politely nod toward the chair next to me.

Gemma takes the open seat, smiling widely. She sets her glass in front of her, swirling her drink and looking me in the eye like I’m an old friend, or maybe a conquest. I might be imagining the note of coyness in her eyes. Maybe that’s just her way with people. I’m so out of practice I can’t even tell if a woman is hitting on me. I’m not sure I want to hone my skills when it comes to dating. I’mpretty certain I’m ready to retreat, retire or tender my resignation—whatever a man does to bow out of the dating pool—and it’s only my first night out.

“So, how are things at watersports?”

“Good.”

Small talk hurts.

A slightly excruciating buzzing sort of pressure radiates from my throat to my chest as I try to muster up something interesting to say or ask.

Nope. I’ve got nothing.

“We’re pretty busy at Chops,” Gemma offers, not seeming the least bit bothered by my current lack of social skills.

Ah. Yes. The steakhouse. That’s where she works.

“Nothing much changes for us even when the weather gets colder. People always want to have a fancy dinner while they’re here on the island. Some people even ferry in for a night out.”

“Sounds about right.”

“So, what brings you out tonight?”

Gemma leans in a little, propping her elbow on the table and tilting her arm so her chin rests on the back of her hand. She’s a beautiful woman … confident … seems nice. I don’t know why I’m thinking about that mutt back at my place and whether he’s ready to go do his business and get to sleep right now.

“I’m here with friends.”

“Against your will?” Gemma’s brows lift playfully and she looks over at me through her lashes.

I smile back at her. “Basically. I guess I’m sort of a homebody these days. Ben talked me into coming out dancing.”

“And yet, you’re sitting here alone.”

“Not now, I’m not.”

“No, you aren’t.” She smiles again. “Should we dance?”

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