Drea shook her head, startled, not sure she heard Staci correctly. “I’m sorry, the what?”
“You know, what do I need to know about him? Likes, dislikes, favorite sex position, things like that.”
Drea felt like she’d been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. This wasn’t really happening, was it? This chick had not just asked her Kyle’s favorite sex position. I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry, I won’t let her see me cry. She took a deep breath, since she had to answer. Staci must have seen something in Drea’s eyes that made her understand the panic Drea was suddenly feeling.
“I mean, I just figure you’re the best person to know these kinds of things. We had a great time last night, and I just really want to continue to make a good impression.”
“Oh, yeah, totally. Well, ummm, he’s not a big fan of the rum punch,” she said, trying to come up with something, pointing with her thumb at the pitcher sitting just to her left. “More of a rum and Coke guy. His favorite candy is peanut M&Ms—he won’t touch the plain ones. He loves classic rock, but don’t bring up Van Halen or else you’ll get an earful about David Lee Roth versus Sammy Hagar that is just a never-ending cycle.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who that is, so I can promise not to bring that up.”
“Right,” Drea responded. Staci didn’t know who Van Halen was? How the hell did Kyle find this girl the least bit interesting? Because he’s not interested in her mind, Drea, just those really perfect boobs. “Well, he’s a pretty typical dude, so, music, boats—always safe topics. As for the sex part, I can’t really help you there.”
“I probably shouldn’t have asked that question. You seem like too nice of a girl to have gone down that road with him. Well, thanks for the tips!” She winked as she turned and bounced back to join her friends.
Drea just stood there, unable to move. She tried not to hyperventilate. She wanted to cry, scream, and throw up at the same time. She looked around her, looking for something, anything, to distract herself from the fact that she was pretty sure Staci had just insulted her in the sweetest way possible. She was too nice? Just what kind of raw, dirty sex did they have last night? And just why wouldn’t he be interested in having it with her? Oh, that’s right, she was just his best friend, not an actual girl.
“Hey, sugar,” Dalton said, waving his hand in front of her face, bringing her back to the moment. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“Nothing,” she said, blinking away the sting of tears and forcing a smile.
“Those tears tell me otherwise, darlin’. But I promise you, we got this.”
“I adore you, Dalton, but I think you are very, very wrong here. I can’t compete with that.” She pointed at Staci and her friends harshly.
“You can too, although I can’t figure out why the hell you think you need to. But Drea, I told you last night, you are sexy as hell—you just need to own it. Now, we’re about to get a move on, and your uncle just hopped on board, and since I’m pretty sure neither of us want to answer his questions about your tears, inhale deeply, embrace your sexy, and once we’re out in open water, whip off that tank and show off those puppies, would ya?” He winked and walked away.
Chapter Eight
Grayson leaned against the inside of the bar, sipping on a cup of the rum punch Drea had just finished mixing up. She was wiping down the bar again, trying to work out some nervous energy, hoping her uncle couldn’t tell. The catamaran slowed down as they reached a spot out in the water to start the safety talk.
“Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to talk safety. I promise to keep this short and sweet, just like all my previous relationships!” Dalton said, delivering his well-rehearsed line perfectly as always. “Your safety is my number one priority, no matter the activity, so here we go! We start with a life jacket, and yes, you have to wear one. So, if you think you’re gonna get out of it so the sexy little bartender back there will have to give you mouth-to-mouth, then you’re gonna have to find a different excuse! Although, ladies, if you need my help getting it to fit properly, you just let me know!” He winked in the direction of the blondes.
“Does he use this spiel on every excursion?” Grayson asked Drea.
“Oh yes. He changes it up slightly from day to day, but for the most part, I can recite it, line for line, bad jokes, winks, and all.”
“He’s a piece of work, that one,” Grayson said, shaking his head.
“I think he’s a keeper, Uncle Gray. The old ladies just loooove him!” Drea said, dragging out the O in love, batting her eyelashes and making googly-eyes at her uncle.
“Hey!” She turned back to the front of the bar to see Brig standing there, a flirtatious smirk on his face.
“Hi, you’re back.”
“We had so much fun yesterday, and I missed you at the bonfire last night. Thought this might be the only way to catch you.”
Before Drea could respond, her uncle pushed up from the section of the bar he was resting against and moved up to stand right next to her. She could see a light scowl on his face and he looked Brig up and down. Grayson had to have a couple of inches on him, but wasn’t near as bulky as the meathead. In a fight, however, especially if the topic of said fight was Drea, her money was solely on her uncle.
“You need to be listening to the safety talk,” Grayson interjected.
“Just wanted to say hi—”
“Great. You said it, now back up front to listen.”
“And what makes you think you’re so special? Standing there like you own the place. Why aren’t you listening to the safety talk?” Brig challenged.
“Because I do own the place. And the fucking boat you’re on too. So I don’t think it’s uncalled for to tell you again to sit your ass down.”
