The Trade(29)

Both their faces morph into understanding and sympathy.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Natalie is amazing. At least what I know of her, I like. But she’s in a different time in her life. And hell, she’s what, nine years younger than me? She wants to live her mid-twenties life, and I’m looking to settle down.”

“Are you?” Milly asks. “You’re really looking to settle down?”

Lips pressed tightly together, hands clasped, I nod. “I mean, the possibility is there. I can see it. I know I’m not really looking for what Natalie is though, so that’s why it’s not going to happen.”

“You never know,” Milly says. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

I shrug. “Even if she does, she’s not doing it here. So please, don’t try to pull any matchmaking stunts, okay? The last thing I need is for everyone in the group to try to hook us up.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to relax a little,” Carson says. “Maybe a fling will do you some good.”

“Or maybe a massage,” Milly offers.

“Massage of his penis,” Carson mutters, only for Milly to smack him in the chest.

“I’ll switch rooms.”

Carson just laughs. “Please, Coach. There’s no way you would switch rooms, not after the earring exploration we just went on.”

Rolling her eyes, Milly leans back in her lounger, a small smile on her face when she says, “Going solo might be the best decision for you, Cory. Trust me.”





Chapter Eight





NATALIE





Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Force the room to stop spinning.

“Hello?” Monica’s voice and face pop up on FaceTime.

Everyone is out at the pool, enjoying some sun and drinks. I escaped, wanting to take a second to gather myself before we go to dinner together tonight. Cory was passed out on his lounger, so I took the opportunity to come to our room by myself.

Our room.

Good Lord, how did that happen?

Oh, I know . . . going on a trip with a bunch of couples, that’s how.

It’s bad enough watching the girls sitting in their men’s laps on the way here, sipping light champagne and nuzzling their necks while I awkwardly sat across from Cory. I thought that was bad. Boy, was I wrong.

No more rooms.

Not a single one.

Don’t worry, I checked too. Not that I thought Cory was lying or anything, but I wasn’t sure if my feminine ways could seduce the front desk attendant into checking one last time for an extra room.

Unfortunately, even a little cleavage couldn’t magnificently produce a free room. So I’m stuck sharing a suite with Cory.

At least the room is gorgeous. White walls, dark molding and dark furniture with palms scattered through the room and deep turquoise hues. An adjoining living room helps with the space and provides an extra bed, which I’m thankful for. Right off the living room is a screened-in patio with built-in window seats, scattered with pillows and cushions. The view is breathtaking with its bright blue skies, aquamarine water, and pure, white sand. A few open windows, letting the light breeze kick in and the sound of the crashing waves filter into the room, puts my racing heart at peace. At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.

“Monica, I have a sicky belly,” I say, lying on my side, curled into a fetal position.

“Oh no, food poisoning?”

I shake my head carefully. “Shots.”

“Shots?” She chuckles. “It’s not even dinnertime there.”

“I know, but something happened to me and I decided to take shots to make me feel more comfortable about the thing that happened to me, but then I ended up drinking too many, and now all I can think about is the thing that happened to me, which makes my stomach turn even more.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “That was a lot of rambling. Let’s start with the thing that happened to you.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Umm . . . pretty sure I do.”

I drape my arm over my forehead dramatically. “It happened all so fast, I couldn’t stop choking on my own tongue to stop it.”

“Something made you tongue-tied? This I have to hear.”

Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut but then open them quickly when the room starts to turn again. “Crap, I feel awful.”

“If you need to throw up, take me with you. I’m not missing out on what happened to you and witnessing the side effects from it.”

“You’re disturbing.” I chuckle and send a quick thank you to the friend gods for the best friend in my life. “So when I arrived at the airport, guess who was there?”

She doesn’t have to take long to think about it. Her eyes open wide and then her smile takes up her entire face. “Oh my God, please tell me it was Cory Potter?”

“Yup,” I say, rolling to the other side of the bed—slowly, of course. “I sat across from him the whole plane trip, taking in his broad shoulders and beautiful face. God, he’s so beautiful. Why is a man beautiful? They should be handsome. But I swear, he’s beautiful and rugged-looking at the same time. And he has this presence about him, calm and observing, but can also crack a joke. And then, God, you should see him in a palm leaves shirt.”