Page 26 of Flawless

“Just making BLTs and a salad. Does that work for you?”

“Yep.”

I close the door, wash my hands, and prepare to fix our meal.

I hum a little while I work, and Danica makes an appearance in the kitchen about fifteen minutes later.

“Where did you disappear to?” she asks, walking into the kitchen and pulling a t-shirt over her uncovered breasts.

“Um, down to the beach for a game of volleyball.”

“Oh, you’ve made friends since you’ve been here?” she asks, pulling the refrigerator open and removing a glass bottle of water.

“Not really. I was just out taking a walk, and some people came up to me and invited me to join their volleyball game. They needed one more person to complete their team.”

Danica’s eyes are hard on me as she takes a swig of water.

“Girl?”

“What?”

“Was it a girl who approached you?”

“Two of them, actually. Why?”

“Just not surprised. You were always a gorgeous man. Sexy, I might add.”

Laughing uncomfortably and shaking my head as I chop the tomatoes, I say, “Nothing like that. Just a game of volleyball.”

“Mm.”

“But they did invite me back for a bonfire tonight. Think you might want to come?” I ask, although I hadn’t committed myself to going.

“I don’t know. I didn’t come here for all that.”

“Neither did I, but it won’t hurt.”

“No one knows you like that here. You can move around in anonymity and be okay. I don’t have that luxury,” she says softly before turning and walking away.

I wonder what she meant by that comment.

Yet, I know Danica well enough to know that when she doesn’t want to talk about something, she won’t. There’s no need to push her. I’ll just have to bide my time until she’s ready.

7 – DANICA

I look in the mirror for the thousandth time, and I don’t know why. It’s just a bonfire with some of the locals. Still, there’s a competitive streak in me a mile long. And if I know anything, I know that Zenon is hot!

Women love him. The combination of his dark, good looks, from his thick, jet-black hair, beard, mustache and eyelashes to those full, kissably soft lips, it’s hard not to stare at the man for hours on end.

“You ready?” he asks, stepping into the open door of my bedroom where I’m checking myself out in a long mirror.

I turn to look at Zenon, taking in those muscular, hairy legs.

“You’re wearing swim trunks?”

Shrugging, he toys with the diamond stud in one of his ears and says, “Why not? We’re at the beach.”

“Are you going swimming?”

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