Page 46 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

But with Nick, none of that forethought and planning, none of those discussions, seemed necessary.

Maybe it’s because he’s my friend. Maybe it’s because we spent all those months getting to know each other in emails and messages before we even met. I don’t know for sure why this feels so different, only that it does.

When I finish my coffee, I head back to the main palapa for a refill and that’s when I run into Tripp on his way out, carrying a plate of toast and several bottles of water.

I nod in greeting, ready to let him pass, but he’s the one who stops me.

“So you missed the snorkeling excursion, too?”

“Yep.”

“Ah.”

Nodding, I once again try to move past him, but again, he stops me.

“Delany was feeling sea sick this morning,” he says, even though I didn’t ask and have zero interest. “I was sorry to miss the snorkeling, but I’m glad I ran into you. To talk.”

Oh, Jesus. He wants to talk? To me?

What on earth for?

Though I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off, instead, I settle on something a little less potentially controversial. “Okay.”

“The thing is, Cassie…”

He brings his hand up, like he’s going to run his fingers nervously through his hair, only to remember too late that he’s holding the bottle of water. He pauses, looks at the water bottle in apparent surprise, and then sets the water and the toast on a nearby table.

“The thing is, Cassie,” he says, clearly trying to reclaim whatever momentum he lost with the water bottle snafu. “I miss you.”

“What?”

Oh, jeez. That is not where I thought he was going with this.

“We were good together,” he says fiercely. “We made sense. We fit.”

I repress the urge to bop him upside the head for his pure boneheadedness. Instead, I say, “You’re with Delany now.”

“Yes. I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. That I don’t still feel—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Because this shit has gone on long enough. “I don’t care what you feel. I don’t care what you feel for me or Delany or anything really. You broke up with me to be with her. You made your choice. Even if you weren’t engaged now. Even if she wasn’t pregnant, there’s no us anymore.”

Tripp studies me for a long minute, then slowly nods. But apparently my words don’t quite resonate, because he says, “But this guy you’re with… You can’t be serious.”

“What?” Shock rockets through me.

“This Nick guy. This muscle-bound army guy you’re with now. You’ve known him for what… forty-eight hours?”

On the heels of my surprise, is a hit of outrage on Nick’s behalf. “He’s not in the army. He’s a Navy SEAL. That means he’s one of the most elite soldiers in the world. That means you don’t even get to say his name.” I pick up the plate of toast and bottled water and press them back into his hands. “Go back to your fiancée.”

Just then, I hear footsteps in the sand behind me. Tripp looks over my shoulder and I know instantly from his expression that Nick is behind me.

My suspicion is confirmed when I hear him say, “If you’re really lucky, I’ll let you pretend you never had this conversation with Cassie.”

Tripp’s eyes go wide and he scurries away.

I turn to look at Nick. He has his aviator glasses on, so I can’t read the expression in his eyes, but if the set of his mouth is any sign, it’s dark and grim.

He’s wearing loose-fitting board shorts that are tight around his waist, his shirt is off, his chest glistening and so muscular someone from the resort should probably snap a picture of it; slap it on a brochure. He’s got a towel draped over his shoulders and he’s gripping the ends of it in either hand.

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