Day One

If I knew Tucker was here, I would have turned around and hopped on the first plane back to Colombia. And then I would have hijacked the plane and flown it straight into the ocean.

And no, I’m not being dramatic. You don’t know Tucker.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, grinning as he struts forward. I cross my arms over my chest and keep my eyes off him. He’s like the sun. Stare at him for too long and you’ll get burned.

“Oh, that’s a coincidence,” I say, straining to keep my eyes off him. “Because I’ve been waiting for you. To drop dead.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he says as he stops in front of me. I keep my eyes locked on a nearby palm tree.

“Well, that is your specialty,” I say, holding my breath. “You’ve always been good at disappointing people.”

“Are you still holding grudges from high school?” he asks. I can hear the smirk in his voice. Ugh. Did I mention I hate this guy?

I pry my eyes off the palm tree and turn to him with a fierce glare. Finally looking at him takes me by surprise, and I have to concentrate on keeping my eyes narrowed on his face.

This is not the same Tucker I knew when I was sixteen. The misbehaving bad boy who liked to tease me and make me squirm has turned into a man. He’s taller than I remember, and his large frame has filled out with thick muscle. Tattoos decorate his round arms—like he needs any decoration for them. They’re beautiful on their own, but the intricately inked tattoos add a look of danger that suits Tucker perfectly.

His stomach is shredded with abs that are calling me to touch them. My fingertips tingle just thinking about it.

I squeeze my hand into an angry fist as I look him in his honey-colored eyes. “I’m not holding grudges. I just don’t like you.”

“Sounds like a grudge to me,” he says with a laugh. “You should let it go. Holding grudges will give you premature wrinkles.”

This guy is going to give me premature wrinkles. And gray hair. And a migraine.

I already feel one coming on.

“Why are you even here?” I ask with my hands planted on my hips.

“I’m the brother of the bride. Of course, I’d be here.”

“I thought you had an important business deal that you couldn’t get out of.”

“I got out of it,” he says with a shrug. “I’d never let Cynthia down like that.”

I grit my teeth as I look up at him. He’s got a gorgeous face, I’ll give him that, but it’s still incredibly smackable. Every time I look at him, I think that he’d look much better with a red handprint on his cheek. A handprint in the exact same shape as mine.

“Are you here with a guy?” he asks, taking a quick look around.

My eyes fall to his strong jaw and soft lips. My heart starts beating faster when his lips part and I get a glimpse of his straight white teeth underneath. Tucker always had the nicest smile, but I always hated it. Whenever I saw him smiling, it was usually at my expense.

He turns back to me and my guilty eyes dart up to his. He smiles, and a flood of warmth fills my body.

I need a cold shower.

Oh, crap. I just realized how horrible I look right now. I’ve been in four airports in the past twelve hours and it shows. I have to get to my room and show Tucker what he missed out on.

“I came by myself,” I say, raising my chin in the air, “but I’ll be leaving with one of those guys.”

I turn and look at the gorgeous men playing volleyball on the beach, trying to make Tucker jealous.

“Chase’s Navy SEAL friends,” I say with a nod. “Apparently they’ve been fighting over who gets to ask me out.”

“Wow,” he says, nodding as he looks over at them. “Sounds like you’re doing great for yourself.”

“I am,” I lie. “I’m doing awesome.”

“Awesome.”

“What about you?” I ask after a moment of silence. “Cynthia said you have a new girlfriend. Is she here? I would love to meet the girl who can put up with you. She must have the resilience of Nelson Mandela.”

“We broke up,” he says with a grin.

“Ahh, that’s too bad,” I say, trying to hold in a laugh. “Did she finally get to know the real you and then claw her eyes out?”

“I broke up with her.”

“Tucker, if you meet someone who can stand to be around you for more than four and a half minutes, you should hold onto them for life. There’s so few people out there who can put themselves through that kind of torture.”

He laughs. I have to look away because the sight is making my breath quicken.

Thank God.

Cynthia’s mother is walking over holding an iPad over her face. She’s talking to it as she nearly walks into a tree.

“Mom,” Tucker says. “Put that thing down before you walk into the pool and drown.”

She looks at us in shock. “You two are actually talking to each other? Without fighting? Without the police having to watch over you? I have to get a picture of this! Nobody is going to believe me.”

She turns the iPad toward us. Tucker and I are visible on the screen. I look worse than I thought.

“Say hello to Facebook,” she says, smiling. “This is going on my Facebook page.”

“Everything goes on your Facebook page,” Tucker says, placing his hand on the iPad and lowering it. “Why don’t you put the iPad away and actually live your life in person?”

Cynthia’s mom Amy is obsessed with social media. She lives life like an Instagram celebrity but with two main differences: she only has forty-six friends, and almost all of her pictures have her thumb blocking a part of the photo.

Amy rolls her eyes at her son as she turns off the iPad. “I finally see my son and he makes fun of me.”

“I’d like to see you too,” Tucker says with a laugh. “But all I’ve seen is your body with a big white iPad covering your head. I think you’re obsessed.”

“No, I’m not,” she says, looking offended. “Julia what do you think? Do I post too much on Facebook?”

My newsfeed is full of minion memes, inspirational quotes, and pictures of her thumb, all courtesy of her, but I’m not about to take Tucker’s side. I would take Lucifer’s side over his.

“I think your son should spend more time with his mother rather than criticizing her,” I say, smirking at him.

“Thank you,” she says, smacking Tucker’s muscular arm. “See? Be nice to your mother. Let’s take a selfie.”

I sneak away as Amy grabs her son with one hand and holds up her iPad with the other. Tucker’s eyes never leave my body as I hurry away to my room.

I can finally breathe easier once I turn into the building’s stairwell, out of his view, but I’m still amped up. I quickly find my room, not even stopping to admire the stunning landscaping, the beautiful art on the walls, or the breathtaking view of the ocean along the way.

I’m on the top floor of the closest building to the beach. Room 1304.

“Wow,” I gasp when I open the door and see the luxurious room with the turquoise water of the ocean visible through the sliding glass doors. If my debt collectors could see me now.

They’d probably have me arrested.

The room is so nice that I’m almost able to calm down from my meeting with Tucker. Almost.

My heart is still pounding angrily in my chest as I check out the sick bathroom with the walk-in shower and enormous tub. I have to get one of these for my parent’s basement.

I grab my suitcase that’s waiting for me by the door and toss it on the king-sized bed. Horrible memories of Tucker come flooding back as I take out my clothes and hang them up in the closet.

I’ve been best friends with Cynthia since kindergarten when I got an expired milk carton at school and the cute girl with the wild brown curly hair took pity on me and shared half of hers. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

Cynthia is my favorite person in the world. Her only fault, which isn’t really her fault, is that Tucker came attached to her.

Her older brother tormented and teased me all through elementary school and then just got worse once high school came around. He broke my toys, pulled my hair, and called me every name in the book. He even called me Voodoolia for a month after he caught me with a voodoo doll that had a picture of his face taped to its head.

But his favorite mean name to call me was Mosquito Bites. He called me that after puberty hit and my breasts started growing. They grew for about a week and then stopped for a whole year, leaving me with the tiniest little buds that looked like mosquito bites.

I yank my empty suitcase off the bed and throw it into the closet as I huff over to the mirror in the bathroom and check out my breasts. Well, they don’t look like mosquito bites anymore.

He’s going to pay for calling me that.

I’m grinning maniacally as I get my hottest bikini and makeup bag and head back into the bathroom to get ready. I jump in the shower already planning how I’m going to do my hair and makeup. I’m going to look so hot that he won’t be able to handle it, and then when I have him panting and begging me to forgive him, I’ll break his heart by ignoring him and flirting with Chase’s hot Navy SEAL friends.

I grin like an evil Bond villain as I turn on the hot water and let it wash away the dried sweat and stickiness from my skin. I feel better than ever.

This week won’t be so bad if I get to watch Tucker squirming in jealousy.

In fact, it will be fucking awesome.

* * *

“Wow,” a guy gasps as I walk by, looking hot as fuck. That gets him a smack from his wife.

I grin as I walk past them, thrusting my chest in the air as I strut to the beach. My black hair is done up, my makeup looks solid, and I’m wearing my tight Vix bikini. I look like Tucker’s worst regret come to life: a young goofy girl that he loved to tease who then grew up into a goddess.

I stop at the beach bar for a drink, and although there’s a crowd of tourists waiting to be served, the bartender comes straight to me. I look that good.

I let the other people pass first and then order a Long Island Ice Tea to bring down to the beach.

My girls are sitting on some beach chairs near the water with the rest of the wedding group.

“Mamma Mia!” Megan shouts, lowering her sunglasses to check me out as I walk toward them.

“Julia, you look stunning,” Cynthia says, staring at me with her jaw hanging open. “Did you style your hair?”

“No,” I lie. “I just fluffed it up a bit.”

“You just fluffed it up a bit?” Megan repeats with a snort. “That’s why you were in your room for over an hour? Just fluffing it up with your hand?”

I turn and glare at her. “Yes.”

“Leave her alone,” Tanya says, struggling to get out of the beach chair to join us. “If you were single on a beach vacation with a bunch of hot Navy SEALS you would be doing the exact same thing.”

“Lucky for me, I’m married,” Megan says with a laugh, “and I don’t have to do shit. It’s a good fashion day for me when I’m not wearing a handkerchief in my hair like Aunt Jemima.”

I take a sip of my drink as I look around the beach, looking for… Lucas. Definitely Lucas. Definitely not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“Where’s your husband?” I ask Megan. “I still haven’t seen him.”

Megan points to the volleyball game where Lucas is trying to keep up with the Navy SEALs. He’s a tall lanky dentist who is as graceful as an ostrich on ice skates. He’s playing on the same team as Ethan and Chase with a few other hot guys that I’ve never met. Lucas is the only one with his shirt on.

“They’re just letting him play to be nice,” Megan says, shaking her head as an easy lob bounces off his elbow.

The four of us watch the game with hungry eyes. It’s like the best scene in Top Gun, but this time it’s the live version. Eleven muscular shirtless men playing (and Lucas), all with a slick gleam of sweat on their hard muscles. I can hear Playing with the Boys playing in my head as I watch.

I’ve already forgotten all about Tucker. I take a quick look around, but I don’t see him. I wonder where he is.

“So, what do we have here?” I ask Cynthia as I turn back to the game. “Who’s the hottie in the red shorts?”

“That’s Chuck,” she says. “The guys call him Chucky.”

“All right,” I say grinning as my eyes roam over his hard chest and shredded abs. “Does Chucky want to get lucky?”

“I doubt it,” Cynthia says, dousing the fire in my eyes. “He’s married.”

“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Chuck is out of luck. What about him? With the aviator sunglasses?”

Cynthia cringes. “Married with children.”

Ugh.

I point out three more and in order they’re engaged, married, and in a serious relationship. Megan can’t stop laughing.

“Cynthia,” I say, starting to panic. “Tell me there’s at least one guy in there who isn’t taken. Please.”

My best friend goes stiff and starts breathing heavy as she looks at one guy I haven’t pointed out yet. He’s not as hot as the others, but he’s still muscular with a nice smile. I’ll take anything at this point.

“Him? He’s single?”

“Yeah,” she mutters under her breath.

At least I have one option. “What’s his name?”

“Greg,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “But he’s gay.”

Megan snorts out a laugh beside me.

“What’s so funny?” I snap, spinning on my heels as I glare at her.

She’s turning red as she struggles to hold in her laughter. “You got all dressed up,” she says in a cracking voice as her shoulders start to shake, “and they’re all married.” Her eyes are watering as she tries not to laugh in my face. “And the only one who’s not, is gay.” It’s too much for her, and she bursts out laughing in front of me.

“Ugh,” I say, shaking my head as Cynthia and Tanya start laughing as well.

“I’m sorry,” Cynthia says, holding up her hand as she unsuccessfully tries to stop giggling. “It’s not funny.” She points at Megan as her body shakes with laughter. “She’s making me laugh.”

I can’t help but join in laughing with them, even though it’s not funny and I hate every single one of them.

“I need another drink,” I say with a sigh as I sit down on an empty beach chair.

“Good idea,” Cynthia says, sitting down beside me. “Megan, you can go get them since you’re part of the reason why Julia needs a drink.”

“If I had to get a drink for everyone I drove crazy, I’d be a full-time waitress,” she says, shaking her head as she turns.

“I’ll go with you,” Tanya says, following her. “I have to go pee again.”

I take a deep breath as I look at the ocean in front of me. It’s sparkling like there’s a million diamonds floating on the surface. A seagull soars through the sky and lands in the sand next to a kid eating French Fries. If the bird had lips, he’d be licking them.

“Are you mad?” Cynthia asks, cringing as she turns to me.

“About what?” I ask, gritting my teeth as I stare forward. “The walking calendar of married guys over there or the fact that your brother is here and you didn’t tell me?”

I turn to her with a glare, and she drops her eyes. I know it’s her wedding week, but she should have warned me about her brother. She knows how I feel about him.

“I didn’t know he was going to be here,” she says, taking a deep breath before looking back up at me. “It was a surprise.”

“What a great surprise,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“It was for me,” she snaps. “I’m sorry you two don’t get along, but he’s my brother, and I’m getting married this week. I’m really happy he’s here.”

I let out a breath as I watch my best friend. I guess I am being a little bit selfish. I should be happy that he’s here for her. It is the most important week of her life.

“I’m sorry.” I put my hand on hers and force out a smile. “We’ll get along.”

“Really?”

I nod as bile creeps up my throat. “It’s going to be great.”

“Thank you,” she says as she leans over and gives me a hug. “We’re all adults now. Maybe we can put all of that teenage stuff behind us.”

“Totally.”

She looks relieved and happy as she leans back on her chair. “Who knows? You two might even become friends.”

“Maybe.” I choke out the word as every cell in my body cringes.

Friends with Tucker? Never. I’d rather be friends with Stephanie, and that’s saying a lot.

I’ll act civil with him in front of Cynthia because it’s her wedding week, but nothing is going to change between us.

He’s still my enemy for life.

And I’m still going to make him pay.