Sea Breeze by Patricia D. Eddy, Jennifer Senhaji Page A

“bartender.” Damn it.
    “Ah. Enough said.” I pull my sunglasses down over my eyes, place a lid on my coffee, and head in the opposite direction as fast as I can.

Chapter Two
    B y day two, I’m thoroughly confused by the itinerary. There’s so much to choose from. I need to map out all of my activities or I’m going to miss something great. It looks like I’ll be on my own for most of this trip. Kim has found her group of friends, and I’ve been left to my own devices. It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting us to become besties or anything. Means more time for me think about... My chest tightens.
    It’s about three o’clock in the afternoon and the salt on my upper lip is evidence of the humidity. I’m used to dry heat. Not wet. Wiping my brow against the shoulder of my T-shirt, I make my way toward the pool deck, contemplating if I should go back to my room to get my suit.
    Laziness wins out, and I snag a stool at the Epic Surf Bar. My view overlooks the two wave pools: one for surf boards and one for boogie boards. Maybe I’ll try my hand at it. I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf, and the lifeguards on both sides make it look so easy. Yeah, I could do that .
    “What’ll it be?”
    “Sea Breeze, Stoli, please. Heavy on the grapefruit.” My eyes are trained on the surfers, not the bartender, as they effortlessly ride the waves.
    “Coming up.”
    One of the guys, who could be a model for Abercrombie, slides off his board with ease, and a male passenger in his twenties steps up to take his place. I glance behind me, quickly finding my drink on the bar. I take a long pull of the cool, refreshing liquid as New Guy steps onto the board, and immediately takes a nose-dive face-first into the water with a thud.
    “I’m surprised there’s not more blood in the water.”
    The comment causes my grapefruity bliss to spew out of my mouth. I witness the manufactured wave carry the poor soul up to the back of the pool and down again, while the lifeguards struggle to yank him out of harm’s way. Maybe I should hold off on my surfer girl dreams for a bit.
    I turn to grab a napkin and seek out the voice. A tanned forearm wipes down the bar next to my drink. It’s attached to a broad chest, covered in a red lifeguard T-shirt that stretches and shifts over perfectly-toned biceps and shoulders. At the top of this masterpiece is a face—wait a minute. I know that face. That’s the preppy bartender I met yesterday at Starbucks.
    “Blood? Do people knock out their front teeth doing that?” I allow myself a moment to admire his chiseled jawline.
    “Mostly bumps, bruises, an occasional broken nose. When the kids ride, they seem to come out of every fall unharmed. It’s the adults who think it looks easy that end up hurting themselves.”
    “Right. I’ll remember that and stay away.”
    He stops wiping and leans one arm on the bar. With a crinkle above his dark brows, he asks, “Do I know you?” His chocolate-colored eyes search mine, and my brain goes fuzzy for a second.
    “Coffee.”
    “You want a coffee?” He looks confused, considering the drink in my hand is still half full.
    “No, I mean, we bumped into each other yesterday while getting coffee.”
    “Right. What’s your name?” It’s so practiced, his smile. Typical . I’ve seen it a million times.
    My shoulders straighten. “Not interested.” I sip my drink and turn back toward the wave pool to see if they’ve extracted the poor man. Undeterred by the previous victim, a larger woman, probably in her mid-forties, is next. Oh dear Lord, are they actually going to let her try and get on that thing?
    “Well, Ms. Not Interested, my name is Eric, in case you’re wondering.”
    He walks to the other end of the bar to take an order. I slump in my chair, playing with my straw. Out of the corner of my eye, I observe the woman at the wave pool hanging on to the lifeguard while trying to balance on the surf board. I don’t know if I can watch this. Yet, I