In the Cards(4)

Her forehead creases again as she chews on my personal philosophy. After another moment, she raises one brow in challenge. “With a good education, you could get a real job and still choose to be alone.”

“Real job?” I feel the vein in my temple pulsing. “I’ve got a real job, thanks.”

She disregards my indignity. “Based on that book, I doubt you want to tend bar forever.”

Resentment burns inside me, although she’s utterly unaware of her rudeness. I think she actually believes she’s helping me. Damn prima donna can’t even fathom a life different from her own. Despite her apparent sincerity, I snap.

“Gee, I never looked at it that way. Thanks for showing me the light.” I dial back my animosity, unwilling to let her get further under my skin. “I wonder how many of you rich kids would go to college if you had to pay your own tuition. I bet very few.”

Her face twitches and she casts her eyes down to her hands, which are now folded neatly in her lap. She appears both chastised and pitying, and that really chafes.

“Hey, spare me your sympathy. It’s my choice. If I wanted it bad enough, I’d work to pay for college. I like my life just fine. I travel. I’m completely self-sufficient. That’s more than a lot of people my age can claim. Besides, bartenders at big clubs can pull down six figures in tips. Seems more sensible than owing six figures and taking some entry-level cubicle position making peanuts.” Her contrite posture stops me from further defending myself. “Now, unlike you, I’m not on vacation. Go on and run back to your sandbox, baby girl. Let me enjoy what’s left of my break.” I return my attention to my book.

It’s unlike me to get riled up, but her condescending attitude splinters my pride. Not sure why I care what she thinks, but I want her gone before I say something I’ll regret.

From the corner of my eye, I notice her bite the inside of her cheek. She rises up from her knees and brushes the sand from her legs—her toned, long legs. I keep staring at the page in front of me, but I sense her willing me to meet her eyes. Naturally, I refuse.

In response to my rebuff, she flippantly replies, “Sorry I wasted your precious time.”

I don’t answer or look up. When her shadow retreats, I peek and enjoy the view of her nice derriere until she disappears over toward the pool.

Too bad that little princess has no idea about the real world, and probably never will. I try to guess how she might react to that day in the future when life finally tests her. Will she rise to the challenge or will it knock the innocent light right out of those pretty eyes?



Lindsey

I return to the pool to find my glamorous mother sipping a margarita and flipping through Town & Country. Between her looks and her attitude, it’s like she’s found the secret to gliding through life and bending it to her will. Of course, I inherited none of her poise or confidence. All of my attempts to mimic her flop miserably, as just demonstrated on the beach.

“Why the long face, Lindsey?” Her radar’s flawless even when she doesn’t give me her full attention.

“No reason . . . a little hot and bored, I guess.”

I lie, unwilling to admit the truth about my failed attempt to seduce the hottie bartender. Mom wouldn’t approve of him. Then again, maybe she’d understand on some level, given he resembles Gabriel Aubry. No doubt his intense green-flecked hazel eyes, sexy smile, and dimples catch everyone’s attention.

I’ve never seen such a beautiful man, not in real life, anyway. His Southern accent and the gravelly quality of his voice are unlike those of the boys back in Connecticut. The way he punctuates his lazy speech with intentional pauses sets me on edge, too.

Sadly, I obviously don’t inspire a similar response in him.

I’ve wasted dozens of hours daydreaming about heated, stolen kisses—maybe a bit more. I know a vacation fling isn’t a big adventure by most standards, but in my overscheduled, overmonitored life, it would’ve been pretty exciting. A secret rebellion. A chance to experience the kind of power my best friend Jill and my mom seem to have when it comes to guys.

But as usual, I blew it. No chance I’ll leave here with any juicy scoops to share with my friends.

“The men should be back from golf soon.” Mom’s voice yanks me from my musings. “Why not go freshen up?”

“What time’s our dinner reservation?” I ask.

“Eight,” she says. “We’re meeting the Campbells at seven thirty for cocktails.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Back at the bungalow, I lie across my bed. While staring at the white, stippled ceiling, I consider tonight’s party and wish more of my friends were here with me. As if on cue, my phone rings and Jill’s number pops up on the display.