Page 16 of Sticking Around

I quietly unlock the patio door and step out. Laughter and voices from those playing on the beach reach my ears and brings a smile to my face. I take a sip of coffee and breathe in the briny smell of the ocean.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” I ask.

“The click of the lock. You’re out on the patio, looking for him.”

“I’m on the patio getting a breath of fresh air before I start studying and go looking for a place to live.” That thought gives me pause. Why the heck is Brady staying here at the resort, anyway? Sure, his roommate is giving him grief, but he’s an NHL superstar. Why doesn’t he just buy a place of his own?

“You know we have?—”

I cut her off. “I know and I really appreciate everything, Brighton. You’re a life saver. I owe you.”

She makes a pfft sound. “If anything, I owe you. You were the one who helped me get back with Noah and I’ll always be grateful.”

“You don’t owe me,” I practically whisper, her words once again reminding me there’s always an exchange. People want things in return. “Brighton, why is Brady staying here?”

“Same as you. Roommate troubles.”

“He did tell me that, but is he looking for a place of his own?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Why is that?”

“I guess you’ll have to ask him that.” Just then, Camryn calls out to Brighton again. “Be right there, Jellybean. Listen, I have to go. We’re going to pick out some baby furniture. We won’t be back until after dinner tomorrow. The place is yours. Have fun with Brady.”

“Thanks, Brighton. Enjoy your weekend.”

We end the call and while the conversation reminded me of my childhood and how I would do anything for my parents’ love—which never came—there’s also a lightness inside me, too. Would it really hurt to have sex again with Brady? Heck, would he even want it? He banged me, and I’m sure I’m another notch on his belt, and he probably wants to move on to his next conquest.

Why don’t you find out, girlfriend?

I actually do feel more relaxed than yesterday, all the endorphins lowered my stress level and improved my mood. When you really think about it, that could help with my studying, maybe even make me more productive.

There I go again, worst reasoning at its best.

As I scan the sandy shore, I note a familiar figure jogging close to the water’s edge and I wilt against the rail, my body quivering as I admire his broad, perfect body from afar. He’s so tall and strong and muscular, it makes it easy to pick him out in a crowd. I continue to drink my delicious coffee as I continue to stare and even though I don’t jog, I suddenly want to be on the beach, suddenly want to feel the ocean mist on my face, and the sand between my toes. Maybe a good, hard run will help with my reasoning abilities, and clear my lust-rattled brain—because I’m very close to taking Brighton’s advice and going for it again.

I quickly finish my coffee, rinse my mug and tug on some clothes. Once dressed, I head outside and make my way to the beach, but Brady is nowhere to be found and I can’t help but think that’s good. Perhaps it’s a sign that the less I see of him the better and I should probably pack my bag and head back to my apartment tonight. But right now, I should get my next endorphin boost from exercise.

I start off slow, speed walking near the water where the sand is packed, and I lift my face to the sun as it beats down on my warm body. I dodge a family playing frisbee and ignore the pang in my stomach. Even if I did get married, I’d never want to bring a child into this crazy world. With that thought banging around inside my brain, I work to shut down my maternal instincts at the sight before me.

I’m about to pick up the pace, when I catch movement out of my peripheral vision, and turn to spot Brady coming out of the surf, a ballcap pulled low on his head. My heart nearly stalls at the gorgeous sight and my body temperature goes from simmer to boil in a matter of seconds—and it has nothing to do with the hot morning sun.

A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of Brady’s lips when he spots me and comes running toward me. Water droplets drip down his chest in delicious ways that mess with my brain and body.

“Brady,” I warn, as he scoops me up and pulls me against his chest. His heartbeat is strong against my body, and mine pounds quickly in response.

“You’re looking a little hot, Lanie.” He starts toward the water again, a threat in his eyes, and I yelp and wrap my arms around him.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Dare?” He slows his steps when he reaches the surf. “Are we playing truth or dare?”

I shriek as cold water splashes up. “If we are, I pick truth.”

He comes to a complete stop. “Okay then, truth it is.” His body tightens, and he glances at some distant spot like he’s waging a very serious war with himself—but that seriousness dies an abrupt death when he asks, “Want to bang again?”

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