Lag (The boys of RDA #2)
Megan Matthews
CHAPTER ONE
I was promised paradise, but no one warned me it would come with extras.
Paradise Island is exactly what the brochure guaranteed. Paradise. My body relaxes deeper into my large white lounge chair as the sun travels higher in the sky, heating the surface of my skin.
“Oh, look, Simone. He’s a hottie. Go talk to him.” My mother’s voice carries from her position to my right, but there isn’t enough strength in my body to move my head and give her a good eye roll.
“Mother, he’s way too young for Simone. She needs someone responsible and mature to be dull with.” The perky blonde to my left, otherwise known as my sister Elena, adds her unsolicited opinion.
I lied.
Paradise Island would be perfect if it weren’t for the two blonde, nosy companions on either side of me. There wasn’t a single warning in the brochure about my mother, Sheila, trying to hook me up with every seemingly eligible man within a thirty-foot radius.
My father, absent from our little group once again, has spent most of this vacation on the golf course. Unless his tee times are spent hunting for the perfect golfer for me to marry, he’s the one family member not obsessed with my sex life. Or lack thereof if we’re being honest.
I don’t jump up and try to hump the most recent man my mom’s spotted, and our conversation lulls. To a simple bystander the three of us look the same as we lay out in resort chairs facing the pool. Our blonde hair and blue eyes may match one another, but at 5’9” I tower over my short mother and sister. Height isn’t the single attribute my father passed on. I also ended up with his straight nose, but I think it fits with my big round eyes.
My eyes flutter closed again as I reach the point of relaxation one only finds while palm trees sway in the wind next to you. Nothing back home in New York City is this quiet and calm.
A quick slap to my upper arm stings my already sun-touched skin and I jerk in reflex. The sunglasses fall from the top of my head and land on the bridge of my nose. I rub the sore spot and then turn my head Mom’s direction as I fix the ponytail keeping my shoulder-length hair up. Her hand reaches out again, striking me in the arm with repeated flicks.
“Simone. Look at the guy in the blue shorts at the bar. See him? He needs some body work, but he looks smart. I bet he’s a doctor. Go order me a drink and bump into him.”
I’m not sure what possesses me, but against my better judgment I lift my head and look at the “doctor” Miss Matchmaker points out. His medical status is in question, but he might be a werewolf. He could at least play one for Halloween. Thick curly black hair covers the man’s chest and arms all the way down to his legs. His gut hangs over the top of his blue swim trunks with hair covering the area where a belly button ought to be visible. I send up a silent prayer he won’t turn around and confirm my suspicions about a hair forest on his back as well. None of us need to see that.
“Mom!” There aren’t enough words to express how horrifying her latest suggestion is.
She stops her perusal of the meat selection at the poolside bar long enough to meet my gaze. “What? Sweetheart, we’re trying to help you. It’s possible you might catch more than a tan on this vacation if you put a little work into it.” She flips her striking hand out again and I flinch, but she doesn’t get closer to my already battered arm.
“What about Elena?” I try to throw my mother’s attention in my sister’s direction. “She’s single. Why can’t we hook her up?”
My mother pushes her big sunglasses to the top of her head, but her eyes never stray to my sister. “Simone, your sister’s twenty-one. She has years to provide me with grandchildren. You’re twenty-six with no ring on your finger. What about your clock? I can hear the tick-tocks from over here.”
Elena snickers from her chair beside me but doesn’t jump in to help. I swear if I didn’t love these two so much I wouldn’t go out in public with either of them. Elena plans to live with me in New York City after she finishes her masters in Buffalo and I can’t wait to get her back for all the times she’s incited my mother during this vacation.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask to try and change the topic.
My mom settles back into her chair and places the sunglasses back on her face before she answers, “He left to play some golf while I napped.”
Dad provides a great buffer, but since he’s not at my disposal I’m forced to take option two for relief. Distance. The were-doctor walks away from the bar toward the secondary pool behind us, and it’s time to make my move. I stand from my chair and allow the beach towel to fall to the ground behind me. “What about those drinks?”
At the mention of alcohol Elena perks up. She hasn’t been twenty-one long. “Get me one of those Long Islands with the cute umbrellas. A pink one!”
“I’m not asking the bartender for a specific color, Elena.” I pop a hip out and try to level her with my best big sister look.
“But, Simone. The pink ones make the drinks taste better,” she whines.
“Girls.” Our mother breaks up the disagreement before it gets started with that special mom voice they all seem to have.
Why is it always “girls”? As if I was any part of the problem and need to be chastised as well.