“What?” I take a step back from him. “Stop embarrassing yourself. That’s just a bad take.”
“Hmm.” He lifts my suitcase again and does a few curls with it. His huge, beautiful bicep jumps out of his T-shirt. “Feels like you packed the entire series in here. Maybe we can read them together on the beach and decide which one is the best.”
“Uh,” I say. “My boyfriend’s just over there.”
“The scary-looking guy’s your boyfriend?” he says, putting the bag back down. “The one I passed going into the restroom?”
“That’s him,” I say, “but he’s friendlier than he looks.”
“That would almost have to be the case because he looks downright terrifying.” He holds his arms in the air as he takes a step backward. When he raises them, his T-shirt comes up a little revealing a six-pack that flows down into his swim trunks like a finely carved set of stairs. “Understood. You’re taken. I’m backing away slowly. Have a nice vacation, Trouble. Yellow’s a good color on you, by the way.”
“Yeah, you, t-too,” I stutter, my eyes glued to his abs. “I mean the having a good time part, not the yellow part. Although yellow might be a good color on you. I can’t be sure until I see you wearing it.”
“Next time we meet,” he says, grinning again, “I’ll make sure I’m wearing yellow so you can tell me. I might even get a big parrot bag like that.”
“Maybe get a bag with a shark on it to match the sharks all over your swim trunks,” I say, pointing at them. I pull my hand back when his eyebrows shoot up.
“You got a good look at my trunks, huh?” He purses his lips hard, trying not to laugh. “You’re very observant.”
I look down as my face starts to burn. “Yep, it’s a blessing and a curse.”
“Okay then, Trouble. It was nice to meet you. My name’s Alex, by the way.”
He smiles at me again before he turns around and walks toward the arrivals area. I’m frozen in place, watching his beautiful backside walk away when I hear something behind me. I turn around to find Butch staring at me.
“What?” I look up at him. “Did you say something?”
“Yes. Are your ears clogged from the plane?” He points to my bag. “Didn’t I tell you to let me lift your suitcase?”
“It’s good. Some guy lifted it for me.”
“What guy?” he says, scanning the room.
“I don’t know. Some guy. He’s gone now. And you don’t need to be suspicious of everyone anymore. You’re retired now, remember?”
“Old habits, die hard, sister. Let me live.” As we start walking, his eyes fix on something. “You didn’t tell me your friends were both with baseball players.”
“They’re not. Only Sophie. Maisie married her high school sweetheart. He’s some kind of financial thing.”
He turns me around so I’m looking at them as they walk into the terminal. “Well, those two guys are both baseball players. The tall blondish guy is Seb Miller. The other one—wearing pink shorts—is Alejandro Molina. They both play for Miami.”
* * *