Page 24 of Tropical Heat

Although Zak was more subtle about it, both had tried to get me to reveal information about the other. The only time I had seen them together was in the ER when Dixie Higgs was brought in. Their animosity towards one another had been palpable on that occasion. I could only imagine how learning they were rivals for my body would cause them to react. But I assumed it would involve some type of macho bullshit and remained silent on the matter. Eventually, they stopped asking.

I'm a pretty simple girl. When I really like a guy, he doesn’t have to wine and dine me to get me into bed. Just showing up with Chinese takeout and a six-pack is enough. But Dante and Zak always seemed to want to go out first.

Zak enjoyed introducing me to the hidden gems of The Keys. The best being a trip for two on the actual African Queen. How freaking cool is that?

Dante’s adventurous spirit and constant need for excitement pushed me to expand my limits. I even let him take me for a ride on his motorcycle.

Getting out of that shitty motel room helped keep my spirits high, but I was concerned what would happen if I ran into one while out with the other. That would have been awkward and I don't like awkward; especially in public. But when I realized Zak never took me to the same places as Dante did, and vice versa, I stopped worrying.

Had Dante not insisted on teaching me to jet ski, my life would have remained uncomplicated. Even if he had told me about the sandbar just five seconds sooner, the messiness which followed could have been avoided.

But by the time the words left his lips, entered my ear canal, and were interpreted by the superior temporal region of my brain, it was too late for me to make the turn. The Sea Doo went from forty-five miles per hour to zero in an instant, sending us flying over the handlebars.

Fortunately, I had attached the kill switch to my life vest and the jet ski shut off when we were ejected. Once I got my wits about me, I looked for Dante. He was bobbing in the water ten feet away from me, face down. By the time I dragged him onto the sandbar, he had regained consciousness.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine." I was more worried about him. A subcutaneous hematoma was rapidly expanding across his forehead. “You hit your head. Do you feel nauseous or like you’re going to throw up?”

“No. I just hope we can get our ride started, otherwise we’ll have to swim back to the marina.” He tried to stand, but I stopped him.

“Not so fast. I want to check you for a concussion. Follow my fingers.” His pupils appeared fine, and he knew his name and birthday. “I think you’re okay, but won’t know for sure until after the CT scan.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to the hospital over a little bump on my head.”

“Yes, you are, and I'm taking you there. You lost consciousness. Your brain could be bleeding.”

Dante rubbed his temples. When he saw the way I was looking at him, he said, “So I have a little headache, big deal. Why does it always have to be the worst-case scenario with you?”

“Because in my line of work, all I see are worse case scenarios. Ninety-nine percent of people that suffer a head injury are fine. It’s the other one percent I have to worry about.”

“I understand you’re concerned. But ask yourself, if you didn’t know me and I came into the ER with a headache and a bump on my head, would you still want to run tests?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But you’re not just another patient and if something happened, I could never forgive myself.”

“If I was just another patient, what would you tell me?”

I avoided his eyes as I spoke. “If you had someone who could monitor your condition, I would tell you to get some rest and ice your forehead to keep the swelling down. And if your headache got worse, or you developed any other symptoms to come back to the ER.”

“Fine, then that is what I will do.”

“Not so quick. Is your roommate home?”

“No, he’s working until tomorrow morning.”

I never spent the night with the men I had sex with. Sleepovers implied there was more to the relationship than I was comfortable with. But I needed to monitor Dante’s condition. “Then it looks like I'm spending the night at your place.”

“There’s my good girl.”

“Yeah, you can put that idea right out of your head. For the next twenty-four hours, there will be no physical exertion or mental stimulation.” He protested, but his heart was not in it, which had me concerned. Had he hit his head harder than I thought? I would have to keep a close watch.

I drove the water bike back slowly and when we got to the marina, bought a bag of ice to help with the swelling. After stopping at my place to pack an overnight bag, we picked up dinner at Gabby's. From there, Dante gave me directions to his place. I'd never been there before. We always hooked up at the motel.

Knowing where he lived, how he interacted in his personal space, had seemed a line too intimate for me to cross. I had never been to Zak's place either. For not growing up in the area, he seemed to know a surprising number of out of the way beaches and other secluded locations. There was something freeing, almost primal, about making love out in the open.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I still clung to the erroneous belief that dating both men kept me from developing a connection with either. If I was as smart as I think I am, I would have broken things off with both men when I first realized I was developing emotional attachments. But for the first time in years, I was happy and wanted the feeling to last just a little longer.

I still worked too many hours and needed to find a permanent place to live. But the desperate loneliness I had lived with for so long disappeared when I was with Zak or Dante.

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