“No. The whole point of this is for you to get out and have fun as a single woman. The writing is just a byproduct of you releasing your pain. Now come on. Get in your damn bathing suit and swim with me,” she said.
With a massive groan, I set my laptop down and changed into my bathing suit. We could dive right into the ocean from the balcony of our hut, and I had to admit the water was refreshing. It felt like I was being baptized in the healing crystal waters of heaven. I swam underneath and felt the waves sloshing against my body, pushing me towards a side of the beach that was covered with foliage.
But when I came up for air and wiped the salted water from my eyes, I couldn’t breathe.
No. It couldn’t be.
Those sea blue eyes turned towards me and locked onto my form. His dark brown hair was soaking wet, which dripped water down his chiseled jawline. His shoulders were broad, wrapped in thick pads of muscle that trickled down his chest. His abs were dripping with the crystal waters of the island and the lines of his strength disappeared behind red and white swim trucks.
I felt everything fade into the background.
I felt my heart slamming against my chest.
Those stoic eyes. That pulsing chest. Those dexterous fingers.
Hello fuck.
Kevin Spencer is on Nassau Island with me.
“You good?” Morgan asked.
But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even collect my thoughts as he started walking closer. I could tell he was just as taken aback. Just as surprised to see me.
And his eyes.
The way they traveled my body.
“Brooke?” he asked. “Is that you?”
“Oh. Holy. Shit,” Morgan said.
I watched him swim over as my eyes drifted behind him. To the two kids coming down a slide together off the side of the vacation home. Perched on its own private beach and facing the beautiful horizon the sun set underneath every night. They were having a grand time. Falling into the water and splashing around.
But his voice ripped me from my trance.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“On vacation,” I said as my eyes raked up his body. “You?”
“Spring break with my kids.”
“You have kids,” I said.
“I do. Twins.”
“How old are they?”
“Four,” he said.
“They’re beautiful. Must get it from their mother.”
“Hardly.”
I furrowed my brow as my eyes took the children in for a second time. Kevin had kids? It was almost unfathomable. He hadn’t struck me as the kind of man to want kids. Or even tolerate kids. But there they were, giggling and laughing and splashing around on the shoreline.
The man who had broken my heart all those years ago had kids.
“I hate to cut this short,” Kevin said, “but looking at those kids, I better get them out of the sun. They played hard yesterday and are still recuperating from burns they received then.”