Spring Fling Read online

  He strode from the dining room without looking back. I flung forks and knives back into the case and snapped it closed.

  Good thing I’d kept my car. I was about to be living in it.

  Smithe

  * * *

  “I can’t believe you brought Marco with you.”

  I linked my arm through Roxy’s as we strolled down the boardwalk to the tiki bar.

  “I can’t believe you’re surprised,” she countered, adjusting her sunglasses on her face.

  “You, um…”

  “Got left at the altar,” she supplied, so I didn’t have to say it.

  “Yes. That.”

  “I’ve spent the entire time post wedding-that-imploded in bed with a god of a man. Trust me when I tell you Marco knows exactly what he’s doing. I know you’re here for moral support,” she leaned in close to my ear, “but he does things to make me feel better that you can’t.”

  I tripped, but she caught me before I fell. “I’m sure he does.”

  “Sounds like it’s worked out for you too, though. Tell me all about him. How big is his dick?”

  “Roxy!” I’d mentioned Hale on the phone yesterday, and I half wondered if her big hurry to get down to the island had more to do with my new bed partner than rescuing me.

  “Don’t leave out anything important,” she instructed in all seriousness.

  “I am not telling you how big he is.”

  As we reached the edge of the bar area, I spotted Doyle with his “friend” looking for a table and whirled Roxy around so she was facing the direction we had just come from.

  “What the hell?”

  “If we’re having this conversation, let’s order room service and do it in the privacy of a bungalow.”

  She looked back toward the bar. “You mean you’re actually going to tell me? Vivid, vivid details?”

  I tugged on her arm to get her attention. “Mmm hmm.” I nodded furiously, even though I had no intention to do such a thing.

  “No, I think I’d rather go to the bar.”

  “Than hear details?” I asked, certain my best friend had been invaded by body snatchers.

  “I’ll see for myself. You’ve been hiding him since we got here, and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s in the bar.”

  “No!” We struggled, Roxy pulling one way and me the opposite.

  “Oh, he so is. What is your deal? I don’t care if he has a little dick or a wart on his nose. If he’s the reason you look like this, I’m firmly on his team.”

  I stopped moving and let go of her. “Look like what?”

  “Free. Happy. Like you finally got laid.”

  “I didn’t look happy before?” I canted my head, wondering what she saw that I hadn’t.

  She placed her hands on my shoulders. “The outside is a good front; most people would never notice. But I’m not most people.”

  She sure as hell wasn’t, and I knew deep down she was right. “I’m sorry for the circumstances, but your honeymoon is exactly what I needed.”

  “I’m not sorry at all, even if I paid for this vacation twice,” she muttered, and I wondered for the umpteenth time why in the hell she’d ever said yes to Doyle in the first place.

  I pulled her in for a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Of course you have,” she said patting my back. “Now let’s go get a drink. One for the road. You’re right about heading back to the bungalow to chat. Marco’s there. Might as well enjoy the eye candy with our cocktails.”

  Roxy wheeled us back toward the bar, and it was like a train wreck I saw coming but couldn’t do a thing to stop. She’d taken two steps when she halted. Her gaze narrowed, her face turned tomato red, and her grip on my arm was so hard I was sure I’d have a bruise.

  “You bastard!” she shrieked, and the entire beach area’s attention was on us.

  The dickhead looked as if he’d seen a ghost, while his friend who was wrapped around him like a second skin looked on, completely oblivious to the hell about to rain down on them.

  Roxy took off toward them at a full sprint, shedding her sunglasses and shoving chairs along the way. I rushed after her but wasn’t fast enough.

  “Roxanne,” Doyle started.

  The sharp slap of her palm against his face was loud enough to be heard over the reggae music playing. I grabbed her by the waist and tried to pull her back, but she was too strong, amped up on adrenaline and rage.

  She clawed at his face. “We had a deal.”

  Deal?

  “Roxanne—”

  “Don’t you Roxanne me.” She slapped at anywhere she could reach, inadvertently landing a few on his companion, who screeched and slapped back.

  Oh. Shit.

  Where the hell was Marco? It would take a man of his size to hold Roxy back. My grip on her was slippery at best, and she nearly elbowed me in the head while landing blows on Doyle.

  “I was with you for five years. I wore your cheap-ass ring.” She held up her hand to his face. “It turned my finger green!” Roxy pushed him, and he stumbled into a high-top table. “You came on the honeymoon I paid for!”

  “We had an arrangement, darling.” Doyle’s voice trembled even as he tried to keep a calm expression on his face.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she said, her voice at a surprisingly normal volume. “I’m going to put you in that ocean where no one will ever find you.”

  “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think, Roxanne?” He leaned forward. “I don’t think your mother would be too pleased to hear you speaking like this.”

  Roxy’s eye twitched, the same way it did when Mr. Henderson came into the library and asked her a million questions. She’d never gone off on the man because she wanted to keep her job. The only thing at stake here, though, was—

  On a scream, she charged out of my hold. I fell backward and landed on my burnt ass while she proceeded to pummel Doyle with fists and feet flying. He squealed and shielded his face, hopping around to dodge the blows, but to no avail.

  I got to my feet, relieved when I saw Hale watching the commotion. I waved him over, and he abandoned his case to pull Roxy off of her ex-fiancé.

  “Rox?” Marco bellowed coming into the bar from behind me. “I heard you screaming all the way in the room.” His gaze moved past Roxy. “Doyle?”

  Hale had peeled Roxy off Doyle, whose shirt was torn, cheek had claw marks down it, and lip was busted. He wedged between the two of them like a wall, yet Roxy continued to take swipes at her ex.

  Doyle lifted his chin at Marco. “A little backup please.”

  “You’re on your own,” he returned, hooking an arm around Roxy’s waist to try to get her under control.

  But it wasn’t necessary because she suddenly stopped moving and just stood there staring at Hale. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Little Bit.”

  My eyes volleyed between the two of them like a ping pong ball.

  “You missed my wedding,” she said, with hurt like I’d never heard in her voice.

  He looked down at his feet, plastic crinkling as he fiddled with the candy in his pocket. “I know.”

  “You know each other?” I asked carefully, the question stupid since the answer was glaringly obvious. My brain had jammed, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “You know each other?” Roxy craned her head toward me.

  I glanced at Hale, my cheeks burning with just how intimately I did know him. Roxy’s gaze narrowed. She pointed at him. “No. Please tell me he isn’t…” She trailed off, and I nodded. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Roxy, if I’d known you…” I didn’t know exactly what they were to each other, but I prayed to all things holy my first instinct was wrong. If I’d slept with a man my best friend had also been with, I wasn’t sure how I’d recover. “…Were close with Hale,” I supplied cautiously.

  “Close?” She glared at him. “I don’t know. How would you describe our relati
onship?” she asked acidly.

  “Little Bit…”

  My stomach knotted. I wasn’t special. He had a nickname for her too. Only I would manage to find a guy who’d belonged to my best friend first.

  “Roxy, I swear I didn’t know. I never would have—”

  She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “He’s my brother.”

  Hale

  * * *

  My sister is Patch’s best friend.

  “I thought your brother’s name was Prince,” Smithe accused.

  “I asked you how big his dick is!” Roxy screeched while struggling against the restraining arms of the man I assumed was the infamous Marco.

  “I didn’t answer!” Smithe yelled back. “But I will if you don’t simmer down.”

  Um, no.

  Marco and I exchanged a look agreeing to work together to defuse this situation, like partners in crime…until I remembered he’d been shacked up with my baby sister since her wedding doing things…well…things like I’d been doing with Smithe.

  “Maybe you want to get your hands off her,” I said, and he smirked.

  “You’ve fucked my best friend six ways to Sunday for the last two days!” Roxy shouted in response.

  The entire world went silent as all eyes in the resort landed on us. I glared at Roxy and wrapped an arm around Patch’s waist like that might shield her from the humiliation.

  “A little discretion,” Smithe hissed.

  “Did you give her details?” I asked incredulously.

  “She didn’t have to. Look at her.” Roxy motioned up and down Smithe’s body.

  I searched her face and saw sun-kissed skin, a pissed off expression, and there it was…a satisfied woman.

  “Can we get back to the issue at hand?” Smithe pleaded.

  My sister’s ex-asshole-fiancé slunk backward to make a quiet getaway, but I caught him by the shirt. “You have some explaining to do.”

  “Roxanne, would you care to elaborate?” He leered at Roxy, who normally wasn’t afraid of anything. She seemed to shrink into Marco.

  “You left me at the altar.” She turned her attention to the blonde at his side. “Enjoy this vacation. Did you know I paid for it?”

  The woman loosened her hold on Doyle, but didn’t completely let go. Then she flipped her long hair over her shoulder like she’d decided she didn’t give a rat’s ass who paid for the trip as long as she got to keep drinking piña coladas.

  “Let’s not be so hasty with the accusations.” Doyle said, the slimy fucker.

  I tightened my grip on his shirt. “I don’t like your tone.”

  He eyed me with the arrogance that was practically dripping off him. “This from the brother I’ve heard about for years but never met. I hardly think you’re in a position to judge.”

  Guilt slammed me from every angle. Roxy and I had always been close, but every time I was supposed to come to Atlanta, I made my excuses. I was a failure of monumental proportions and didn’t know how to tell my family.

  Smithe wiggled out of the arm that held her as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  “He doesn’t matter.” Roxy turned her back on Doyle and made a talk-to-the-hand motion. When he didn’t immediately go away, she said, “Why are you still here?”

  “I’ll be in touch, Roxanne.” He gave her a pointed look and slithered off.

  What the hell did all that mean?

  Roxy grumbled something under her breath before turning to Marco. “How do you stand being friends with him?”

  “You were engaged to him, cuore mio,” he returned easily.

  My sister looked like she wanted to kill him and kiss him at once. Marco made the decision for her, locking lips with her in a way that kinda made me want to punch him.

  When they came up for air, she was flushed and determined. “We’ll meet you on the beach in thirty minutes—" she gave Marco an appreciative once-over, “—no, an hour,” she said to Patch and me without apology.

  “Roxy, what’s going on?” Smithe asked, gesturing toward the empty space Doyle had just occupied.

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” she answered quickly before she squinted at Smithe. “You thought my brother’s name was Prince Prince?”

  “That’s what you always call him,” Smithe said defensively. “And some people have double names.”

  “Our mom nicknamed him Little Prince when he was born. We just shortened it to Prince.”

  My face got hot. Little Prince was so embarrassing, but I couldn’t shake it no matter how old I got. “She thought my name was Prince too.” I grinned at Roxy, thinking about when she could barely talk. “Except it was more like ‘Pwince’.”

  “Shut up.” Roxy glared at me, and I laughed.

  “What’s your mom got to do with this?” Smithe asked.

  Mom? I stiffened at the abrupt change in conversation and flashed a stern look in my sister’s direction.

  “I don’t know what that asshat was talking about.” She tapped her foot a few times. “Forget about him. Being stood up was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

  She latched onto Marco and dragged him off before we could question her further.

  Smithe watched them for a minute. She refused to look at me, even as I walked with her back to the bungalow. Once we were inside, she shoved some of her books into her bag.

  With one in her hand, she spun around, disappointment etched on her face. “How could you let her down like that?”

  “Roxy handled that asshole pretty well on her own,” I defended.

  “You didn’t know he was an asshole until ten minutes ago. She was so excited you were coming to the wedding. Your mom and dad were too. It was all they talked about for weeks.” She shook the book at me, demanding an answer.

  “I couldn’t tell her no.”

  “It would have been better than lying. She needed you,” Smithe insisted. “You’re as much of a jackass as Doyle.”

  She waited for me to argue, but how could I when she was right? When I said nothing, she turned back around and aggressively shoved her things into her bag.

  This was just a one-night stand that had turned into two. So why the hell did it feel like she was quitting on me?

  I grabbed my own suitcase out of the closet and threw it on the bed. “Tonight’s the last night I’ve got the room. You take it.”

  “I’m not staying here, even if you leave.” She looked wildly around the room in search of items unknown, anywhere but at me.

  “You gonna share a room with Marco and my sister?” I challenged. “That sounds like a good time.”

  She marched past me to the bathroom and yanked her swimsuit off the shower door. “Can’t be worse than being here.”

  “I’ll leave.”

  “Like that will matter.”

  I ripped off my button-down and put on a T-shirt before changing into a pair of jeans. She hadn’t been able to get enough of me, and now the thought of occupying the space we’d made ours was too much for her?

  Some part of me understood that better than I was willing to admit.

  I struggled to get my overstuffed shave kit zipped, and when the zipper broke, the frustration of the whole day finally settled in. I no longer had the mental energy to keep up the pretense. “You wanna know why all the shampoo and soap is in my bag?” I spoke to her back, nearly crushing the kit in my hands. “Because I knew they’d replace it every time housekeeping did a turndown service.”

  “So what? You like the little bottles. Everybody does.” She planted a hand on her hip, unimpressed.

  “I can’t afford to buy shampoo.” Her brow furrowed as if I were speaking in a foreign language. “You heard me right. If I don’t take these goddamn little bottles, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get any again.” There, I’d said it.

  I shoved the shaving kit into my suitcase, zipped the whole thing up, and wheeled it across the room. When I was almost to the door, I looked back. “I didn’t go to Roxy’s we
dding because I didn’t have the money.”

  “You came here,” she argued.

  “This was my last ditch effort. I’m tapped out.”

  “She would’ve paid for you to come. Your parents would have too.”

  I sniffed bitterly. “I couldn’t do that. You’ve met my family. They succeed at anything they try, but I failed. Forgive me for not wanting to tell them I’m days away from living out of my car.”

  “Hale.”

  “I’d appreciate if you don’t repeat any of this to my sister. At least let me have my dignity.” I opened the door and hesitated. “You made me forget who I really am for a few days. I owe you.”

  I closed her in the bungalow, unable to stand her expression any longer. Stupid as it was, I moved at a snail’s pace in case she came after me. She didn’t.

  Once I was on the boat that would take me to shore, I stopped looking back. I shoved in my ear buds and put on “My Poor Heart” by The Glorious Sons. It was time to go home. I just wasn’t sure where that was anymore.

  Smithe

  * * *

  “What do you mean he left?”

  Roxy looked at me in disbelief and shook my shoulders as she emerged from the bathroom, robe on and hair wrapped in a towel.

  I’d stayed in the bungalow for two hours after Hale left, shocked at everything he’d admitted. In his haste to leave, he’d forgotten his carry-on case. Broken dishes filled it, and I knew his meeting with the hotel manager hadn’t gone well.

  “I haven’t seen him since I went to Charleston over New Year’s, and he bolted?” she asked no one in particular.

  “Don’t be too hard on him,” I said softly.

  “Why? Because you were?” She dropped down on the bed. “Obviously there’s trouble in paradise.”

  “I let him know I didn’t appreciate he was a no-show at your wedding,” I said, sitting down on the bench at the foot of the bed.

  “I may have overreacted earlier about the two of you. It was a shock, but he’s the best guy and you’re my best girl, so it makes sense for you to be together.”