Good Times and Tan Lines Read online

  SAXON JAMES

  The only thing standing between me and the perfect holiday, is my own goddamn mind. Ibiza was supposed to be a place where I could run away and rejuvenate—yet somehow, I’m still the same tragic mess on the other side of the world, just with a better tan.

  I stretch as I take the two stairs from my villa to the beach, sliding my sunglasses on as I wonder where I’ll waste the day away today. The sand is rough and hot under my bare feet, glowing a brilliant white, and if I wasn’t spending approximately eighty percent of my waking hours drinking like a fish, I’d probably appreciate how amazing the sight is.

  The last time I was in Cala d’Hort was with my family in a time when I had significantly less issues and almost zero self-confidence. I can remember the blue skies and clear beaches—and the heat—I even remember the hot, muscled bodies that seemed to be everywhere, but the difference between then and now is the heavy, sticky weight bearing down on my stomach.

  I fucked up. Then, in classic Rainer fashion, I bolted.

  The constant reminder forces my feet away from the sun lounger I was heading to and towards the nearest place that sells alcohol. It stretches across a good deal of the shore line and has a large white deck with white furnishings on one side, and a long bar with stools on the other. Normally, I would have taken the gloriousness of the deck, but today, I just want to get drunk.

  I slide onto one of the barstools, making sure it’s balanced on the sand, and carefully prop my sunglasses up on top of my meticulously styled blond waves. My eyes take a moment to adjust in the shade, and I hold up a hand to let the bartender know I’m ready when he is. Thankfully, it seems a little early in the day for the hoards to descend so my drink appears quickly, and I question, yet again, whether even I should be here at this time. But, I’m on vacation, and it’s not like I’m the only one taking advantage of the refreshments.

  There are three other men and two women sitting at the long bar, and at least two families sitting at the restaurant inside. And as I sip my beer, and study each of the people at the bar in turn, I wonder how many of them are as pathetic as me.

  I’m about to let out a self-pitying sigh, when at the other end of the curved bar, almost directly across from me, a man plonks down on a stool and starts chatting to the bartender like they’re old friends. My sigh stalls, and comes out as a shaky breath instead.

  Fucking hot damn, that guy is too much.

  Short dark hair, gorgeous brown skin, and tattoos that stretch from his muscled pecs and down both arms. He laughs at something the bartender says, and my lips quirk just a little in response. Then, as though he can feel the weight of my stare, his dark eyes land straight on mine. If it wasn’t for the high back on the stool, I might have swooned.

  I resist the urge to immediately look away, and his eyes narrow just a tad, like he’s studying me, and being under his intense scrutiny makes my cock twitch. I don’t deserve to be having a stare-off with a sexy stranger, but I’m sure as hell going to enjoy it while it lasts.

  He finally breaks eye contact, nodding at something his friend is saying, and I release the beer to press my cold fingers to my cheeks. It helps. A little.

  When I look back over, he’s pulling on a white polo and taking a bottle of water from his friend. With barely a glance in my direction, he leaves.

  The self-pitying sigh finally comes.

  Sexy stranger certainly isn’t the first hot guy to have grabbed my attention while I’ve been here, but they’ve all led to nothing. It’s like karma followed me almost four thousand miles to watch over my shoulder and make sure I didn’t get laid. I could go to a nightclub I suppose, but by late afternoon, I’m barely responsible enough to make a decision like what I should have for dinner, let alone what guy I should have for dessert.

  Looking at the few mouthfuls of beer left in front of me, I can tell today is going to follow a similar route to every other day here. Beers until it’s socially acceptable to start on bourbon, and then a few cocktails during happy hour. I have no idea how many types of alcohol I’ve been mixing, all I know is the amount is more than sufficient to chase the memory of bad decisions away.

  “Hey.”

  I start, almost jumping right off the stool at the voice in my ear. One hand over my chest, I turn to warn the idiot about sneaking up on people clearly lost in thought, when the sight of who it is makes me lose my voice too.

  He’s wearing sunglasses now so I can only see half of his face, but the half I can see still looks near perfect up close.

  I clear my throat. “Did you need something?”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve seen you a couple of times. Are you on holidays?”

  “I am.” One of my eyebrows lifts out of habit because he’s noticed me. That’s curious.

  “You sound American,” he says.

  “Good pick. And you sound …”

  “British. But I was born in Greece.”

  It’s a good combination, not that I’d say that out loud. “And what about you? On vacation?”

  “Nope. I live here.”

  It’s then I notice the logo on his white polo. Bottoms Up.

  I snort and nod to it. “Is that a promise?”

  He grins. “It’s a business. I run scuba lessons for tourists like you.”

  “Ah, not like me. I’ve never scuba … dived? Dove? A day in my life.”

  “You’re missing out.”

  “And why would that be?”

  Hottie leans his elbow against the bar top and crosses one ankle over the other. “It’s like another world down there.” He pauses to look me over and I suddenly wish I’d worn more than a short pair of swim trunks. “You should come.”

  “Becoming shark food is not my idea of a good time.”

  “And why not? A little adrenaline gets the blood pumping.”

  “So do many other things …” The words come out, accidently-on-purpose, and while I can feel my cheeks heating, I’m not overly embarrassed by the heavy innuendo in my tone. I’ve done my time messing around with straight guys, so I always try early on to make sure we’re both clear about what’s happening.

  Hottie holds out his hand. “Colton.”

  “Rainer.” His big palm swallows mine, and I do well to keep my ridiculous lust-haze in check. It hasn’t been that long since I last slept with someone, but hell, this guy—Colton—is exactly my type.

  “Rainer? That’s different.”

  “My name is actually Thompson Rainer, but since Thompson is stuffy as my grandfather’s closet, people just call me Rainer.”

  “Thompson Rainer?”

  “The third, yes.”

  He chuckles. “I thought American’s were supposed to be less pretentious than the British?”

  “Well, the original Thompson Rainer was British, so there you go.”

  He smirks, and noticing that he’s shifted a little closer makes me smirk back. “Can I call you Thompson?”

  “No.”

  “How about Tom? Tommy?”

  “No, and hell no.”

  “Thomas the Tank Engine?”

  “I will cut you.”

  “Whoa!” He holds up his hands, leaning back a little, but he’s still smiling. “Rainer, it is then.”

  “Much better.”

  This time he takes a whole step closer. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Colton,” I lean my head on my hand. “You have no idea.”

  A moment passes full of heated tension and the roar of the waves just behind me. Colton checks his watch. “Look, I came over here to see if you wanted to come out on the next charter. There’s a really cool reef I’m taking people out to, and
I figured it might be a better idea than sitting here and drinking by yourself all day.”

  I tilt my head. “When you said you’ve seen me a couple of times …”

  “Every day since you got here. Happy? Now come on, it’ll be a bit of fun.”

  I pull a face. “Outdoor activities have never seemed all that fun to me.”

  “Then give me a chance to change your mind.” His tone is stronger, more confident now. Like he knows that I’m actually considering it. What he probably doesn’t know is how I’m weighing the benefits of spending time with Colton over how likely I am to make a fool of myself attempting anything remotely complex.

  “Fine, you’ve twisted my arm.” I lean over to signal to the bartender to put the drink on my tab, and then I’m left with nothing to do but jump off the stool and let Colton lead the way.

  It’s slightly awkward walking next to a stranger. Sure, Colton is hot enough to set my blood on fire, but for all I know, he could be leading me away to his serial killer lair. Should I be concerned he’s clearly been paying attention to me? I’m sure my stranger danger alerts should be going off by this point, and it’s kind of concerning that isn’t happening. Am I still really that desperate to be liked?

  “Do I need anything?”

  He glances over, his attention sweeping me again. “Nope, you’re good. Unless you want to grab a hat or a shirt or something?”

  I get Colton to wait while I duck back into my villa and pull on a tank top, not bothering with a hat. My tan is coming along nicely, but I still rub some sunblock in because sunburn is not a good look on anyone.

  “Done,” I say, locking the sliding door behind me and approaching Colton. His swim trunks aren’t as short or tight as mine, but I take a second to admire his round ass before I fall into step beside him. “So do you just wear swimmers while you’re scuba diving?”

  “No, we supply wetsuits. Normally I charge for wetsuit hire, and y’know, the tour, but you’re here as my guest so just keep that to yourself.”

  “Will your boss be mad? I can pay, you know.” Boy could I pay. I feel a little stupid for not offering to earlier, but when you grow up with the kind of money my family has, you tend to get used to free things. To expecting things. To having whatever—whoever—you want …

  I cringe away from those thoughts again and drag myself back to the present. To Colton.

  He’s shaking his head. “This is my treat. The boss will be okay, promise.” There’s something teasing in his eye as he says it.

  We leave the beach behind, walking bare foot over the road and down to the marina where line after line of luxury boats are moored. There’s a group of about twenty people waiting by a ship with the same logo as Colton’s shirt, and when one of the guys on deck spots him, he starts to wave.

  “Okay, people, now the captain has kindly decided to join us, we can get started. Who’s excited?”

  A few people clap, and the two guys on the boat start to help people board.

  “Captain Colton, hey?” I say to Colton.

  He rubs at the smile he’s struggling to keep down, while his black hair is tossed lightly on the breeze. “I mean, I don’t make them call me that.”

  “It sounds like a cereal brand.”

  He snorts. “And here I was trying to impress you.”

  “You’ll just have to keep trying, I guess.”

  We follow the last of the people on board and as soon as I step onto the gangway it bobs up as the boat rises with a wave. I grit my teeth and cross, determined not to look freaked out by the metal ramp shifting underfoot, hoping that no one notices how quickly I walk. Once we’ve boarded Colton takes over, leaving me to sit back and listen. The way he talks is captivating, and it’s clear he’s done this dive more times than I could count. He makes little jokes and slips in facts about the reef and the ecosystem around here and somehow manages to do it in a way that holds my attention.

  From what I can gather, this group have just finished some scuba diving course and this is their first real dive. Most have their own wetsuits already on to their waists, with a few completely suited up, and when Colton’s crew take over and start slipping through the people, doing last minute checks on equipment, I realize we must be almost there. Colton ducks inside, and I turn to cross my arms over the rail behind me, propping my chin on a wrist as I watch the waves rising beside the boat.

  “Hey!”

  The sharp, sudden voice in my ear makes me jump, and I give Colton a deadpan look as his low laugh surrounds me.

  “You’re a jumpy one,” he says.

  “I swear we’ve already been over not sneaking up on people.”

  “But it’s so much fun.”

  I roll my eyes and they drop to the wetsuit he’s holding. “I guess we’re doing this.”

  “That we are, cutie.”

  I stamp down my smile because I’m not twelve years old, and grab the black suit he’s holding out. Colton tells me to leave my swimming trunks on but lose the shirt, and when I expect him to check me out again, he doesn’t. His expression is all business, and the change is beyond hot. I can just imagine what he looks like when he’s bossing his team around.

  The roar of the engine lowers to a hum before cutting off completely when we reach what must be the dive spot.

  “The others will go ahead. I need to run you through the basics first.”

  “Isn’t there supposed to be a course for this?”

  “There is. But we won’t be going deep, and I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

  Well, I’m not about to argue about monopolizing all his time.

  “Ready for the basics?” he asks.

  Colton goes over the hand signals and how to use the equipment, along with what to do if the oxygen runs out. At my panicked expression, he’s quick to assure me the odds of that happening are close to none. As he winds up, he checks over the air gauge and tanks.

  “This button inflates your BCD,” he says.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a compression stabilizer. You let the air in and out depending on whether you’re going up or down. And when you dive, don’t forget to hold your nose and expel the air from your ears.”

  My blank look makes him laugh. “Maybe I should sit this one out?” I ask.

  “Relax, we’re not going deep. Think of today as a practice round. You’ll get the hang of it once we get in there.”

  Too soon, it’s time to go.

  The flippers are awkward and Colton takes a minute to laugh at the stupid way I’m walking before instructing me it’s easier to walk backwards. And the guy is right, of course, so now I feel stupid for not realizing.

  When I get to the drop off point, I don’t hesitate. I just inflate the BCD and jump.

  The wetsuit floods with water, which doesn’t take long to warm since the water is already like a bath.

  “Don’t step on the coral, and stay near me,” are Colton’s last instructions before he puts in his mouthpiece, deflates the BCD, and dives.

  I follow him and like he said, we don’t go very deep. Every time we dip down, I pinch my nose and whenever we rise again, I let some air into the BCD. For the first while, I’m too concerned by regulating my breathing, keeping close to Colton, and trying to stay level despite the current pulling me in the other direction, that I barely notice anything around us. Colton is right though. The more we swim, the quicker I start to get the hang of it.

  And when I start to focus less on what I’m doing, I’m able to take in the view.

  It’s amazing. Sunlight streams in shafts through the clear water, lighting up the reef. Huge fan-like pink corals and orange sponge-looking things are everywhere. There’s a weird blue thing that looks like a brain and right next to it is an anemone drifting on the tide. Fish dart around, looking ridiculously busy for creatures that literally only have to eat and mate—not that I begrudge them for having the perfect life.

  I follow a b
lue and silver fish as it swims in short jerky bursts, passing a large red starfish with spindly legs. The fish disappears and another, bigger one takes my attention. I’m careful not to touch the coral as I follow them, completely consumed by the vibrancy and how no matter where I look, there’s always more to see.

  When I finally emerge from the water, I don’t know if it’s been an hour, or twelve. The sun is still up pretty high so we can’t have been down there for too long, but Colton was right, it was like a whole other world.

  I pull out my oxygen and suck down some salty sea area. “That was incredible,” I finally say as I drop back onto a bench and push my mask up onto my head. Colton helps remove my tanks before doing the same.

  He takes the bench opposite me. “You liked it?”

  “I fucking loved it. Can I come out here again?”

  There are deep red lines around his eyes and his hair is slicked back with water but when he smiles, it’s perfect. “Of course. I’m running a night dive soon too.”

  “A night dive?”

  “Yeah. They take place at night. Shocking, I know.”

  I shake my head. “Smart ass. I can figure out when, what I don’t know is why.”

  “Heaps more to see. Some species, like the reef sharks, are more active at night.”

  “Sharks? You want to see sharks?”

  Colton’s smile just gets wider, but hello this not an amusing conversation. “They’re harmless.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Okay then, no night dive. Got it.”

  “Whoa, hang on. I didn’t say that.” And I must be crazy because even the thought of swimming with actual fucking sharks isn’t enough to stop be from wanting to go. The combination of seeing Colton again and regaining that feeling I got while underwater is far too strong.

  “Alright then.” He reaches back and unzips his wetsuit then rolls it down to his waist. I copy him, hoping this time to get a reaction, but he keeps his gaze planted firmly above board. His loss. I don’t even try to hide the way I drink in his glistening suntanned skinned. My focus trails down his abs to that gloriously defined V. I want to know what his skin tastes like.

  When I finally turn my attention back to him, he’s smirking. “You’re shameless.”