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Chapter Eleven
Ryker
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, I’m doing what I was told.”
Kind of.
The jump rope swooshes by my ears each second, my calves starting to burn. Sweat covers my body and I blink away a drop that landed in my eye so I don’t have to stop. I’m in a rhythm now.
“Are you really doing what you were told?” Bree’s snarky voice floats out of the phone through the speaker. “Because from the pictures I’ve seen, what you’re doing is a little more like extracurricular activity.” I don’t even want to ask what pictures she’s referring to.
The rope catches on my foot when my mind flashes to how Aspen’s wicked naked body felt beside me in bed this morning. The way she’s not at all self-conscious about her body. Her petite lean build with natural breasts that fill my hand. And my mouth. It’s a stark opposite of the women I’m used to with fake everything. I lean over, hands on knees, catching my breath.
“See what happens when you think of women. You lose your concentration,” she barks and then laughs. “Stuff your dick back in your pants, Dallas. You’re only there another week.”
I blow out a breath full of spit and sweat and grab a towel to wipe off my face. “Stop worrying about me, Bree. I’m working harder than ever, getting ready to get down to business.”
“My job is to worry about you.”
I pick up the phone, done with this conversation. “Talk to you later, Bree.”
“Dallas,” she snaps, “If I have to deal with a baby in nine months, I will castrate you myself.” I toss my head back, laughing. “You laugh now, but you won’t be then.”
“Don’t worry, if I go into heat, I’ll package my meat.” Again.
She gasps. “I can’t believe any woman would fall for your ass.”
“Lots of women love my ass.” Messing with Bree is one of my favorite pastimes. She gets paid well to put up with me and my humor. I’d bet she’s shaking her head and rolling her eyes right now.
“I should quit,” she jokes.
“But you won’t because you love my ass too.”
I hang up before she can respond. We’ve played this game many times. She’s not going anywhere. I turn the music up and return to my morning workout so it’ll be finished if Aspen stops by. ‘Cause after last night, the last place I want my dick is in my pants.
“Mr. Dallas,” beams Herman as he strolls up to my private cabana on the beach carrying a notepad for orders. Herman’s charismatic personality is infectious. He’s the friend that will always make you laugh. I’m usually that guy, so I like him. He’s not as young as most of the other waiters, probably in his fifties, and he’s lived here his whole life. “I’ve been hearing rumors about you.” He points his finger at me with a toothy grin.
Story of my life. Rumors. Except, most of the time, they aren’t true. I have a feeling this one is. Especially with pictures floating around. I shrug without a care. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with a gorgeous woman.
“You’re the one who mentioned this is the land of romance.”
He laughs out loud and then his expression turns serious. “I also informed you to be wary of that one.” His warning about Aspen jogs my memory. Pure heart, tainted mind. Having been around her the past few days, nothing seems off about her to me. Aspen told me the people didn’t take to her dad very well. I wonder if that has something to do with his warning. I mean, her dad was scary in a sleep with one eye open kind of way.
“I like a challenge,” I say, waggling my brows.
His lips thin as he sets a knee on the cushion, leaning into the private cabana and at first I think I offended him, but then he says in a hushed voice, “I like you, Mr. Dallas. Just be careful.” His gaze jumps to our left and right before he stands up. My head draws back from the serious warning and I too look around, prepared to find someone spying on us. It’s not like it would be the first time someone was hiding in a bush to get close to me. But, no one is paying any attention to us.
People here are more passionate than Americans. Maybe he’s looking out for Aspen more than his concern for me. I’m a foreigner and according to Aspen, people here don’t care for us.
I nod to appease him despite deciding to take his warning with a grain of salt. “I’ll keep a watchful eye. How about a drink, Herman?”
His smile returns, he takes my order and parades down the sand singing. Crazy old man. I lean back and stare out to the water. A cloud hides the top of Mount Otemanu. I grin thinking about our hike. Aspen is the perfect woman. Confident, athletic, loves being outside and she’s not afraid to put me in my place. Most women bow down to my every whim, afraid they’ll lose their chance with me, and I’m tired of fake women. It’s refreshing being with someone who doesn’t know my biography by heart before they even meet me.
I glance at every canoe passing by, searching for her face. It sucks having no way of getting ahold of her. Is this what it felt like before there were cell phones in everyone’s hands? I don’t like it.
Between being up all night, the warm breeze and reggae music off in the distance, my eyelids are heavy.
I wake from my light sleep when I hear someone approach. Herman sets my drink on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready for your next one,” he calls over his shoulder.
