Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(7)
CHAPTER FOUR
The white sand from the open beach in front of us crunches under my feet with each step, my flip-flops sending the tiny shell particles flying behind me. Trey walks a few steps in front with my big white SeaBag tote slung over his shoulder, and a pink beach towel flops against the blue and green stripes on the bag with each of his steps.
We continue for a few more paces before Trey stops and turns back to me. “I’m pretty sure our guy will meet us along the beach over there.” He points to his right at some unknown landmark in the distance. We hit the edge of the water and begin to head in the direction he pointed, my steps easier now on the dense wet sand.
“A pretty ride for a pretty lady?” A heavily accented voice comes from behind causing Trey and me to turn together.
Behind us a shorter dark-skinned man stands a few inches into the water. The surf pushes past his calves as each wave comes ashore. His jean shorts are wet on the hem, but the bright blue Hawaiian button up shirt he wears is dry. Noticing our interest, his hand shoots out pointing farther into the water where a yellow jet ski bounces along the waves. “Take your lady on the ride of her life.” He nods in Trey’s direction. “A hundred bucks for an hour. You won’t get a better deal.”
Trey takes a step closer to the beach salesman and shifts the beach bag to his other shoulder. “Not today, thanks.” He calmly rejects the offer and makes to turn, but not before he reaches out and grabs my hand in his, our fingers wrapping together.
Headed back in our correct direction, Trey continues to hold my hand. His fingers are larger than mine and feel thick, possibly callused in the way that only men’s hands tend to be. I like their rough texture next to my own overly lotioned skin. The gold watch on his wrist rubs at the contact point on my arm.
“Do you want to ride a jet ski?” he asks without slowing his pace. I’m thankful my long legs can keep up.
I hesitate in my answer. “I’ve never ridden one before. They look like fun, but that guy was two steps down from a used car salesman.”
Trey laughs at my answer and pulls us to a stop on the beach. “Well then you’ll like what I have planned for today.” He doesn't say more and we both stare out into the ocean where a few people play in the water. Farther out jet skis crisscross back and forth over the open space. At no point does he make an attempt to release my hand. I don’t either.
My free hand reaches up to play with a few loose pieces of my hair. The thin blonde strands look almost white in the sunlight.
“Ah, here they are.” Trey pulls me closer to the water’s edge where two bright orange jet skis with Sea-Doo scrawled across the side come to a stop a few feet away. He lets go of my hand and I want to protest for a moment until he wraps his fingers around the hem of his grey shirt and pulls it up, leaving him in only the same green swim trucks he had on yesterday. His solid chest flexes with his movement, and I wonder how it would feel to slip my hand up and down it.
Not wanting to be caught with drool on my face, my eyes scan across the matching vehicles as their riders jump into the water and walk toward us.
“We get to ride them?” My question stops Trey’s forward movement, but is answered by the first of the riders to make it to the beach.
“Have you ever ridden one before?” the taller of the two who comes to stand by me asks. His black swim trunks hug his hips and showcase a muscular physique, but it doesn’t appeal as much now that I get to ogle a shirtless Trey all morning.
The snaps from a life jacket being undone catch my attention while the guy next to me passes off the jacket he’s wearing. He pulls on the straps to tighten the vest around my midsection. To my left, Trey receives the same attention and I frown at the loss of my prime chest-viewing area.
Trey’s head pops up to mine and he questions the look I’m giving him. “What?”
Last night we agreed to make this a vacation fling. In three more days I’ll never see him again, and while the thought already makes me unhappy, I also use it as my reason to throw caution to the wind.
“He’s ruined my view.” My hand moves up and down to encompass his midsection. New York Simone isn’t so brazen, but vacation Simone is sexy and flirty.
Trey and the guy suiting him up both laugh. “Mine too, baby.” His head tilts to indicate my own lifejacket now in place across my chest.
I shake my head at his forlorn look and follow the guy to the jet ski where he gives me instructions on riding the beast. After I know the basics of how to gas and brake, he wraps the safety pull string around my wrist in case I fall off and need to emergency stop. I have no plans to take a drop into the water, but I’m glad someone thought of this.
To my right Trey gets the same safety speech, and then both men begin to point in different directions in front of us, giving Trey directions I assume. My striped bag still hangs over his shoulder as he keeps it up and out of the water. He passes the bag to the taller of our new companions.
Trey walks through the water to the machine next to mine and jumps on. “Are you ready?” He grins from his seat, but it looks a little mischievous.
Before I answer he slams his hand on the throttle and takes off toward the open ocean spraying me with water from the back end of his craft. As quickly as he started, he stops about fifty feet ahead and turns his jet ski around in my direction. There’s a little worry on his face, possibly concerned what my reaction to his stunt will be. I pretend to dust off some stray water from my shoulder and then grip the handlebar and race my jet ski forward. I pass Trey, laughing at his bewildered expression and head out farther into the little bay ahead of us.