Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(45)

“He is cute,” Dylan said.

“He’s twelve,” Shannon pointed out.

“He’s drinking at a bar, I doubt that,” Victor said.

“Okay, eighteen . . . we are in Mexico.”

He looked more like midtwenties to Victor.

“If he’s single and straight, you could tap that in ten minutes,” Avery challenged.

“You know you sound like a dude, right?” Erasmo asked Avery.

“Hey, women talk as much smack as men.”

Victor saw the game as it was rolling out. He also noticed how Shannon started rubbing her hands on her thighs. He’d bet money that she wouldn’t even try hitting on Mr. College Kid on Spring Break.

“I’d have given my left nut for a lady like you when I was his age,” Victor said.

Shannon snapped her eyes to his. “Are you suggesting I hit on him?”

He couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth. “I can’t ask you out for three months, apparently. A lot can change in three months.” Like she could find someone to take care of that biological ticking clock. Suddenly his challenge sat like acid in his stomach.

The table went silent.

Shannon pushed back from the table and came to her feet.

Victor’s mouth went dry.

There was no way . . .

“Challenge accepted.”

She’ll turn around.

She’ll turn around . . .

Oh, damn, she isn’t turning around.





Chapter Sixteen

Damp palms and a racing heart . . . you’d think she was at a junior high school formal, asking the popular boy to dance.

The eyes from everyone at Shannon’s table bored into her back as she approached Surfer Boy.

Hearing Avery’s words in her head, Shannon moved in beside her target and leaned against the counter as if she were attempting to gain the bartender’s attention. “I hope you don’t mind me squeezing in,” she said over the noise of the bar.

Surfer Boy turned her way midsentence with his buddy, did a double take, and blew off his friend.

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled.

“Well, hello.” As hellos went, his was suggestive.

“Hello.” She smiled and ignored the nerves jumping in her gut. Okay, so he wasn’t eighteen . . . but it was highly possible he was in his early twenties. Very cute, but cute being the key word. His gaze did a quick up and down. Not gay, she concluded.

“I’m Steve.” He put his hand out to hers.

“Shannon.” She reached out to shake his hand, and he turned it around and kissed the back of it. She wanted to find the gesture endearing, but all it did was make her want to laugh. Like where had he learned that? TV? Netflix?

“You’re stunning,” he said with a wink.

She took her hand back, placed it against her chest. “You’re sweet.” Okay, okay . . . she’d proved her point. The last thing she wanted to do was lead this kid on only to cut him off.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

“Margaritas, but I can buy my own drink.”

He reached out and placed a hand on her arm.

She looked over her shoulder to see if her party was watching. Three sets of eyes were pinned.

Victor was gone.

“Let me buy you one. It’s our first night here,” he said.

Without being terribly obvious, she wiggled out from under Steve’s hand.

“Is that right? How long will you be here?” Shannon smiled at her admirer and glanced away.

Where is Victor?

“A week. Then it’s back to the grind.”

“Work?”

Steve shook his head. “School. One more year and I’ll be out.”

The bartender stopped in front of them.

“The lady will have a margarita.”

She tried to wave the bartender off. “It’s okay, I can—”

Steve reached for her hand and placed it on the bar. “I insist.”

Okay, no more touching.

She pulled away.

“There you are!” Victor appeared behind her, a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

She sighed in relief.

“Is she bugging you, young man?” Victor asked Steve.

Steve dropped his hand, his smile gone. “Excuse me?”

Victor turned Shannon toward him, both hands on her shoulders. “Do you really want to blow sixty-two days of sobriety now? You’ve come so far.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.

Lost for words, Shannon stared and blinked.

Victor placed an arm over Shannon’s shoulders and glanced at Steve. “It took me six months to get her into AA.”

Steve stiffened when the bartender delivered the margarita.

All three of them looked at it.

Victor reached into his pocket, tossed a few bills on the counter, grabbed Shannon’s hand, and dragged her away.

“AA? Really?” she asked when they could no longer be overheard.

Victor didn’t answer, he just kept moving. She had to jog to keep up with him. Instead of heading back to their table, he pulled her toward the beach, away from the people, the music . . . the lights.

“Slow down.”

Victor stopped without warning, and she ran into him.