Page 45 of Bad For A Weekend

“Owen, that was—”

“Reckless,” he finishes with a word that is the opposite of what I wanted to say.

Two weeks after prom, I’m stepping off the plane in Cancun. The hot breeze hits me in the face, sucking the air from my lungs. I fucking love it. There’s nothing better than feeling sunshine on my skin and knowing there’s a beach just waiting for me.

“It’s going to be the best weekend ever,” Ziggy says, hooking his arm with mine.

“This was so cool of your dad.” Sara links my other arm.

“This way, Ms. Baylor,” a man in a suit says, guiding us to a white van with tinted windows.

“Let me go first.” Owen charges ahead of us. He’s in his customary suit, which I hope he ditches now that we’re here, or he’s about to have a very uncomfortable weekend.

He inspects the van, pulling out a mirror with a retractable arm so he can see underneath it. I want to laugh at how ridiculous it is, but the part of me that always thought Dad was being overbearing is gone. Nothing is too farfetched for me anymore, and I wouldn’t put it past whoever is tormenting me to go to this great of a length.

“Clear,” he calls out.

The ride to Tulum is an hour long, and we’ve already been on nearly a six-hour flight, so the energy in the van is low. Ziggy watches videos on his phone from the backseat, Sara sprawls out on the middle bench seat and pulls a sleep mask over her eyes, and I sit in the front row next to a dozing Brandy, observing my obsession.

He has on sunglasses and is holding onto the “oh, shit” handle as the driver weaves through the chaos of traffic that is the streets of Cancun with practiced ease. Once outside the city, Owen relaxes a touch but keeps his focus on the cars around us.

I watch him as though he’s the most entertaining movie I’ve ever seen.

Every now and then, I check to make sure Brandy isn’t paying attention to me. I panicked when she called me out before prom. Apparently, I wasn’t as good at hiding my attraction as I thought. I vow to be more discrete before she takes the issue up with Dad because, make no mistake, she’s on my side, but she’ll betray me in a heartbeat if she thinks she’s protecting me. The last thing I need is Dad firing Owen because his dumb daughter has a crush.

The closer we get, the more alert my friends become. Sara tucks away her mask, and Ziggy uses his phone to snap pictures. Even Brandy perks up, pulling out her mirrored compact to check her makeup. I’d bet a hundred dollars she already has a date lined up for tonight.

“Here it is,” I say, pointing to our property.

It’s a circular dwelling with cream stucco, brown trim, and a thatched roof that’s exposed on the inside. All the furnishings came from local woodworkers and the decor from local artists. The back side of the house is floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the deck and landscaping. Beyond that is a palm tree-lined path that leads directly to our private beach.

“How many bedrooms are there?” Ziggy asks as we park.

“Five, so we can spread out. But I call the primary.” I rub my hands together because I’ve been waiting for this moment. Obviously, Dad always takes that room, so I haven’t had a chance to use the soaking tub with the kick-ass view.

“I call my usual room,” Brandy says. She always wants to be near the kitchen so she can whip up her creations without fear of waking someone up if she gets inspired in the middle of the night.

Before Brandy got the job as my nanny, she wanted to be a chef. She planned to work for us for a few years and save enough money to go to culinary school. That didn’t work out the way she wanted, but she still enjoys cooking and baking. It’s like her therapy.

“I’m assuming Owen wants the room next to mine,” I say before I realize how it sounds. He shoots me a cursory glance, and I backtrack. “You know, so you can make sure the boogie man doesn’t get me.”

We offload the van, and after it pulls away, Owen double-checks the iron gate to make sure it’s secure. I overheard Dad telling him all the features of the house, and apparently, there are motion sensors and cameras around the perimeter that I never knew existed. The doors and windows have alarms, and a local security company will complete drive-bys at night. It made me feel better hearing this, but nothing makes me feel more protected than having Owen around.

It takes no time for everyone to unpack and get in bathing suits. It’s early evening now, and we don’t have much sunlight left, so we’re antsy to get outside. I chose my white bandeau crocheted top that’s held together with a faux tortoise shell ring between my boobs. The matching bottoms are high-waisted and extremely cheeky.

Sara comes out in a black and gold classic bikini that makes her white-blond hair pop, and Ziggy is in teal trunks that are a size too small, but the way they stretch across his thighs and hips makes him look more built than he actually is, so the small size was probably intentional.

“Let’s go, girlies,” Ziggy says, setting a straw hat on his head.

“I’ll be right behind you with some fruity drinks,” Brandy calls out from the kitchen that Dad had stocked with everything she needs.

“Put a little vodka in that, would you?” I lift my brows.

She shakes her head. “Eighteen is legal here, so why not?”

“Hell yeah!” Sara calls out as she struts out the back door.

I briefly wonder if Owen is going to hide away or if he’ll feel the need to stay close by, but that’s answered when I hear steps behind us as we walk down the boardwalk to the beach. I glance back and nearly trip and fall when I see he’s changed into black shorts and a black T-shirt.

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