“More Wine, please!” I say loudly to the bartender as he tends to someone on the other side of the cabana. “Come on, por favor!”

He finally makes it over to me and fills up my glass. “Keep it coming,” I say, tipping the the bottle toward me. “Thataboy.”

I smile, and spin around toward the ocean, leaning my elbows back against the bar. If my post divorce depression isn’t cured by this beautiful view, who knows what will.

A guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties and in good shape walks past me. He’s got on sunglasses, board shorts, and is carrying a guitar. He stops right in front of me, drops his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, and stares right at me.

In an instant my heartbeat speeds up. Who does this guy think he is, gawking at me like a piece of meat? On the other hand, I suddenly feel a little insecure in my red and white polka dot tankini. It’s been a while since I’ve had the girls on display.

I wave a hand in front of Guitar-Boy's line of site. “Hello! Can I help you?!”

The guy shakes his head out and finally makes eye contact with me. “Hi,” he smirks.

“That’s it? I caught you staring at my boobs and that’s all you’ve got to say. Hi!?” I shake my head and scoff.

“Oh,” he says, and I notice his voice is a deep baritone. “I was looking at your wine. Is that the pour they give at this bar? Because I was over at the cabana on the other side of the beach and I got about half that.”

“I have the hook up with Pedro,” I wink at the bartender. He smiles back.

Guitar Hottie takes a few more steps toward me and slings his guitar down from his shoulder.

“So you thought I was gawking at you now, did you?” He’s got a shit eating grin on his face. His blue eyes searing into me from just a few feet away. His scent wafts toward me; a musk of man and salt and ocean spray.

“I thought you were, yes. Sorry. I know you were just looking at the wine.”

He leans in a little closer to me, and even makes a little come hither motion. I lean forward, and he puts his hand on my back and his mouth to my ear like he’s about to tell me a secret.

“I was looking at you,” he growls. “You’re hot as fuck, and I want to rip that proper little tankini off you and bend you over this bar right now.”

My jaw drops. I catch the guy smirking and staring at my tits when I look up.

I slap him.

Not hard enough to do damage. But hard enough to send a message.

“There a problem here?” a voice booms over my shoulder.

I glance and see the resort bouncer staring at us both with an extremely serious face.

“No problem,” Guitar-Hottie says. “Just trying to figure out what the deal with these wine pours are. I’ll be on my way.”

The Bouncer is burlier than Guitar-Hottie. He’s got more tattoos. He’s got a six pack too, but where GH was slim, he’s more of a bigger type build.

“Hey Pedro,” he booms. GH slings his guitar over his shoulder and walks off. “Get this girl another round. On me.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I say. “I don’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Honey,” he says. “This is a one thousand dollar a night resort. If the help are causing you problems…”

“The help? That guy is the help?” I comment. And notice that Mr. GH has a rather nice ass despite his slim build.

“He’s the island guitar player,” the bouncer says.

I take a swig of my wine. “What’s he play?”

“Country. Calypso. Some reggae.”

“Quite a range.”

“What about you?”

“What do I play?”

He shrugs. “What’s your deal. Been seeing you around here for a few days. Curious.”

“Why don’t you pull up a chair and we’ll talk about it.”

“I am off shift in five. Why the hell not?”

“What’s your name?”

“Brandon.”

“Pleasure to meet you Brandon.”

“The pleasure is all on this side,” I run my hand down his arm.

It’s going to be an interesting night.