Page 10 of Sand in My Boots

“I do enjoy that trope.”

Now my head is spinning.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She waves me off. “Never mind. You, me, dinner. Later tonight. At a restaurant here at the resort. Or in my suite. I hear the room service is good.” The girl shrugs her shoulders, as if she didn’t invite me. To her hotel suite. For dinner.

“And we’re back to awkward and confusing. I thought I’d have a headache after watching badminton, not before.”

“I’m not sure why I said that.”

“What are you sure of?”

Her comeback is immediate. “I want steak fries. With salt and ketchup. And a brownie. Substitute water for the mojito. I’ll have a bush thing later tonight when we somehow end up at a place that serves food.”

And we’ve circled back to the very beginning of this odd conversation.

“Right. Let’s start there.” I finish up her order, adding a water for myself before submitting it. I’m not sure of much of anything at the moment, but with certainty, I say the one thing I know to be true. “Ready to watch the most boringest game on the planet?”

“When you put it like that, how can I resist?” Juli giggles. It’s super cute and infectious, and I can’t help but join her.

Maybe this tournament won’t be so bad.

Nope, still bad, but much more tolerable with our commentary.

I’m supposed to be the announcer-slash-commentator for the event, but Juli takes over the minute I miss one opportunity to make it more fun. In between time-outs and the different games, she stuffs her mouth with fries. Slathered in salt, she dipped each one in ketchup more than once. Damn if the double dipping and the way she sucked off the ketchup didn’t have my cock tenting my shorts. Thank goodness we’re sitting at a table I had the brilliance of setting up earlier.

In the end, a team of a grandfather and his two elementary-aged grandchildren takes the crown. Don’t ask me how. I couldn’t tell you the rules of badminton, let alone directions to get to my house right now. Apparently, the “too much . . . feelings” didn’t end because the conversation did.

Once they receive their trophy and the guests have gone their separate ways, Juli and I are left alone, save for the crew cleaning up the beach.

“Okay, those fries were delicious. And this brownie isn’t so bad either.” She rips off a piece and shoves it in her mouth. I swear she moans, but I can’t be sure if it’s intentional or not, nor if she realizes she’s doing it.

“I’ll pass along your compliments to the chef. He’ll be thrilled.”

“What time are you done with work?”

I consult my watch. “Now.”

“I need a shower. I smell like suntan lotion and ketchup.”

I want to tell her she smells divine, but thankfully, I’m smart enough not to go down that path. It will only confuse the hell out of us more. And we’ve been confused enough to last the rest of her trip.

“Do you need to change?” She stares at me earnestly. She’s sobered up a bit, the food and passing of time helping. I almost feel bad allowing her to have the Bushwacker, but part of me thinks she won’t let it go.

“I have to go home. Not really dressed for the restaurant.”

“You’re the owner. Pretty sure that gives you free rein.”

While she’s not wrong, I need space from her. And a quick shower. To make sure my dick behaves tonight throughout the meal. I won’t refer to it as a date.

Not sure I’m convincing even to myself.

“I should probably shower, too. Wash off the stupid sand.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Still hate it?”

It’s my turn for wide eyes. “You remember that?”