Page 18 of Tan Lines & Trouble
Internally, I facepalm. It would be nice to not look like an idiot in front of this man at least once. "Yup. Changing now."
I grab my suitcase and wheel it into the bathroom behind me. I tug the zipper open and a plethora of string bikinis sit tangled together on top of my clothes. I've never been shy about my body, but suddenly I wish I'd packed something with a little more modesty.
It's not that I don't like the way I look, because truly, I do. But Griffin is built like he was chiseled from marble, while I'm a little curvy, soft if you will.
Oh well. A guy like him probably wouldn't look twice at a girl like me anyway. He probably dates leggy blonde Instagram models or something equally as pretentious.
It's a non-issue,I tell myself as I strip out of my travel clothes. I grab my favorite two-piece swimsuit and tug it on, making sure all of my important bits are covered. Well, as much as they can be, given the four triangle-shaped scraps of polyester tied together leave very little to the imagination.
I strut back into the room, borrowing a bit of Griffin's confidence. His jaws hangs open as I breeze past him, wheeling my suitcase behind me.
"That's your swimsuit?" he asks in disbelief, his voice thick with something I can't quite put my finger on.
"Mmhmm," I murmur as I fish my gauzy wrap from my pre-packed beach bag. "You ready?"
When I spin toward him, the look on his face is almost comical. His eyes are wide and his cheeks have a little flush to them, almost like he's already sunburnt. He's huffing and puffing and keeps blinking and swallowing.
"Are you okay?" I ask, suddenly worried he's having some kind of episode.
His throat works as he swallows again, one hand shoving through his hair and the other dropping to adjust himself. "Totally fine."
Oh! Ohhh.
I offer him my cheeriest smile. "Great. Let's go!"
"Where do you wanna sit?"I ask as we approach the massive pool area. There are private cabanas, loungers, multiple grottos, and even some chairs partially submerged in the water. Oh, and a swim-up bar.
"With you on my face," Griffin mutters.
"Excuse me?"
He flashes a quick grin. "Anywhere in this place."
It’s on the tip of my tongue to call him on his shit; after all, there’s no point in us making these rules if he isn’t going to abide by them. But he already thinks I’m an uptight stick in the mud, so I let it slide. Plus, what if I misheard him?How freaking mortifying would that be?
“Well, I want a drink and to catch a little sun before getting wet.”
Griffin chokes and I realize how my words sounded.
I hold up my hands, desperately trying to silence him before he can say anything to make this worse. “Before getting in the water. Wet in the water. The pool.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief as he nods, seemingly letting me off the hook.
He follows behind me as I weave through the sea of loungers, stopping when I find the so-called perfect spot—a double chaise with a built-in table between the two seats and a huge umbrella off to the side. It has a view of the pool, the bar, and the beach beyond.
You’d think living at the beach, I wouldn’t be so awestruck by the view, but…damn.The water of the Caribbean is giving the crystal blue of the pool to my left a run for its money.
“It’s nice, right?” Griffin asks, plopping down onto one of the lounge chairs.
“Gorgeous. Nothing like the beach back home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Florida,” I answer carefully; I’m not about to tell him where in the state I live. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he’s not secretly a creeper.
He nods. “I’m actually moving to Florida. This trip’s my last chance to unwind before I settle in.”
I’m half-tempted to ask which part, but think better of it. I didn’t tell him for a reason, and maybe he’s doing the same. “It’s a nice place to live,” I say instead, cringing at how lame I sound.
