Page 34 of Body Shot

“I’m so sorry to . . . er . . .”

I lift an eyebrow. “Fuck and run?”

“Well, technically you’re the one leaving, but basically yeah.” She bites her lip and clasps her hands together.

She’s kicking me out? I want to screw up my face with displeasure. I’m the one who fucks and runs. Eh, it doesn’t have such a good sound in present tense. Whatever. Chicks usually aren’t booting me out of bed. And I kind of don’t like it.

But I keep my face impassive. “No need to apologize, beautiful.” I meander toward her, stopping to scoop up my jeans, aware of her gaze tracking down my body, then snapping back up to my face. Her lips part.

A little satisfaction eases my annoyance. It would be so easy to convince her to go another round. But she’s right, it’s time to go. I stop in front of her, brush my lips over hers and say, “I do have to go. There are some things I need to look after at Conquistadors.”

Her eyelashes flutter and she nods. “Right.”

I step into my boxers and jeans, then pull my T-shirt over my head. I pat my back pocket to make sure my wallet is there and dig out my car key from a front pocket.

“I’ll see you to the door.” She pads along behind me in bare feet.

Along the way, with the observational skills that’ve been trained into me, I assess more details about her condo. It’s not big, apparently only one bedroom, her living room containing a couch and loveseat and television, but also a long desk on one wall, with bookshelves above it.

The bright red leather sofa and loveseat are unexpected. So are the framed photographs on the walls, gorgeous scenic pictures and some interesting portraits that I wish I had more time to study. These things only raise more questions in my head about her.

Questions I donotneed to know the answers to.

I turn at the door with a smile. “Thanks for coming to the beach with me.”

“Thank you.” She swallows and her cheeks go adorably hot pink. “For dinner. For the fun in the arcade. And for the . . .”

“Fuck?” I offer again.

She lets out a little huff, but her eyebrows pull together. “Okay, yes.”

“It was my pleasure, beautiful.” I kiss her once more. “G’night.”

I jog to my car, the sky now a deep blue. Palm trees rustle in the evening breeze that carries a faint ocean scent. I use a driveway to turn around and head down Grand Avenue toward Conquistadors. I could walk there from here, and to my home, oddly enough. I chose my condo partly for its proximity to Conquistadors but also for the view of Sail Bay and the Bayside Walk that leads all the way around to Mission Beach, where we’d just come from. I love my morning runs along the water or taking my bike out for an easy spin, enjoying pale sand, palm trees, blue sea and sky.

I was surprised to learn Hayden’s address isn’t far from my own.

Instead of turning off Grand to go home, I continue and drive into the small parking lot behind Conquistadors, with its “Reserved Parking” signs for me, Marco and Cade.

Jesus. Someone is parked in my fucking spot. Scowling, I drive around the block, and luck into a spot not far away.

I enter through the front door. Despite my annoyance at having to park on the street, I still feel a twinge of pride in what we’ve created here. The main selling point for the bar was its location, close to the beach and other restaurants and shops. But we poured some equity into it, including sweat equity, as we demolished, rebuilt, sanded, and painted, and the results are deeply satisfying.

Even on a Sunday night, business is brisk, though more so in the bar than the restaurant. I pause to survey empty tables on the restaurant side, sighing inwardly, then continue into the bar, where Marco is mixing margaritas.

“Hey, man.”

Marco glances at me. “Finally. Where’ve you been? You were supposed to finish the inventory list.”

“I’ll get it done.”

“It’s been busy,” he says. “Could’ve used the help.”

I don’t usually work on Sundays. We try to divide shifts we all have a couple of days off in a row every few weeks. But more often than not, I’m here anyway. But not today. “I was busy.”

“Uh huh. And yet, here you are. Couldn’t get laid?”

I grimace.

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