A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(7)

“Piercing gray. And you wanna hear the best? I gave him my number and he’s asked me out for Monday. You don’t think he’s a serial killer or something, do you?”

Mrs. Mitchell laughs. “I think you’re safe on that one.”

“And you were going to share this like, when? Tomorrow?” Lauren sticks her lower lip out.

Mrs. Mitchell runs interference. “Lauren, give the poor girl a chance to tell her story. This is hot. Girl meets boy at the fruit stand.”

“No! Not at the fruit stand. In the produce section. Just like in the movies,” I argue.

Lauren waves her arm. “Whatever. Just finish!”

“That’s it. He takes my number, plugs it into his phone, and saunters away. And it was a damn fine view from the rear, too. That man left a trail of smoke behind him, I declare.”

“Hmm. I think I need to start hanging out at Whole Foods,” Lauren mumbles.

“I don’t know. But honestly, he’ll probably turn out to be a jerk like the last four guys I’ve dated. I do have that jerk magnet thing going.”

“Maybe you’ve been demagnetized. You never know.”

The rest of the day is spent out on the beach, soaking up the sun, playing beach volleyball, eating, drinking, and having the best time. Berkeley, Carrie, Britt, and Hayley—my other besties, official advisory council, and general I-don’t-know-what-I’d-do-without-them-in-my-life—show up later in the morning, and Mrs. Mitchell makes a bunch of sandwiches to feed the troops, like she always does.

We all go out to body surf and the waves are a little rough. Britt ends up flashing everyone on the beach when she stands up sputtering out salt water and her bathing suit top is askew from getting caught in the curl. Carrie and Hayley laugh so hard they can’t tell her and the rest of us are behind her, so we don’t see it until the nipple show is a done deal. A group of guys give her a standing ovation and offer her a beer as we walk back to our chairs. Britt, being the good sport she is, laughs at their gesture telling them the least they can do is offer her an import instead of the crappy domestic they’re trying to give her. That sends us all into fits of laughter, and even the guys love it.

As the day winds down, Carrie suggests Home Team on the island for dinner and drinks, and it’s a no-brainer.

“God, I love this place,” I say around a mouthful of wings after our food arrives.

We all mmm over the yumminess of what we’re eating, and afterward move to the bar area to mingle with some people we know.

“So, Sam how’s business?” Berkeley asks.

“Banging, actually.” I own an event planning company specializing in corporate functions. I started out right after college, and two years later it’s gotten to the point where I’m turning away business.

“That’s awesome. I knew you were hiring. I was going to check with you about scheduling something for the electric co-op in the fall.”

“Cool. Call me and we can put it on the books.”

Turning to set my empty glass on the bar, I glance to my left and notice someone who’s been pursuing me like the devil.

“Lauren, he’s here,” I say.

“Who? Produce god?”

“No!” I elbow her in the ribs. “Trevor.”

All the girls lean in. Lauren says, “Where?”

I tell them, “Eleven o’clock. Don’t you dare f*cking look.”

“Too late. He’s checking your ass out,” Berkeley says.

Britt agrees, “Yeah, is he ever.”

“How can he see my ass in this crowd? Wait, is my ass that big?”

“Shut the hell up,” Berkeley yells over the noise. “You barely even have an ass.”

“Oh, God, I’m not one of those flat-assers, am I?”

“Ugh. Stop!” Berkeley groans. “And no, you’re not.”

“Oh, crapsickles, here he comes,” I say

Trevor is the beach hottie. Kite surfer, tanned, muscular, and the total package kind of guy all the girls want to date. He’s also the one who f*cked me over about nine months ago. We’d been together for about seven months when I caught him in a drunk moment kissing another girl at a club downtown. I broke up with him, or maybe I should say he broke up with me, as in broke me up. At one time, I thought he might have been the one. He professed all kinds of things to me from loving me to us feeling each other’s souls, and then WHAM! I catch him with his tongue down another girl’s throat. Afterwards, he claimed he was out of it, didn’t know what had gotten into him, that she came out of nowhere, and he wasn’t into her at all, and blah blah endless blah. In his words, it was all one-sided on her part. I called bullshit. If that were the case, why was he deepthroating her with his tongue and why were his arms wrapped around her like ivy? And was he going to do that with every woman he came across when he was drunk? Thanks, but no thanks. I walked away, but about three months later after I’d gotten over him, he started calling me.

The calls were infrequent at first, but then he started doing little things like leaving large Starbuck’s lattes and blueberry scones on my porch a couple of mornings a week. And then lunch deliveries started occurring, and not just any lunch. He sends over my favorite salad from one of my favorite restaurants, Cru Café. And the weird thing is it always happens when I’m too busy to grab lunch myself, so I can’t help but actually appreciate it. Honestly, he’s beginning to put a chink in my armor, and it bothers me.