The girls remove their bathing suit cover-ups and head right for the pool stairs. It’s too hot to just lay out without getting wet first.
I take my time slipping my shorts off, possibly facing my rear in Lincoln’s direction. I might also be making a show of the speed, in which, I tug my shirt over the top of my head. However, as soon as I turn around, I keep my focus on Macy and Grace in the pool, purposely ignoring Lincoln, though dying to know if he’s watching me.
“Look at you, hot stuff,” Grace says, whistling a cat-call.
“Who knew you had an ass of steel,” Macy adds in. “Seriously, you eat junk food and work out twice a week. How is that even possible?”
“I do a lot of squats before bed,” I tell her, shrugging.
“Bitch,” Grace says with a laugh.
“Did you see the look on Lincoln’s face when you took your shorts off?” Macy asks.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Well, he stood up and went to the men's room,” Grace says, continuing to laugh. “I think he might have gotten a little too excited … if you know what I mean.”
I feel like I need to fan myself off right now, even though I’m in a pool of cool water. “Haven’t you ever heard … what happens in Cabo, stays in Cabo?” Macy asks me.
“That’s Vegas,” I tell her. “You can’t steal that saying from another location.”
“You should just sleep with him tonight,” Grace says. “No one will think anything less of you. I’ll be proud of you, actually.”
“You’ll be proud of me for being easy?” I ask.
“No, dummy, for seizing an opportunity. Live. Carpe his Diam.”
“What is with you two in botching up sayings?” I try to brush past her suggestion because I don’t know what my brain is thinking right now. I’m not sure what I would regret.
Lincoln returns to his scuba set up, this time in his promised speedo.
Good Lord, what have I started?
Lincoln slips down to the side of the pool, dangling his legs off the side as he continues to fidget with a piece of the gear. He looks up at me grins, nodding his head.
“Is he wearing a speedo?” Grace mutters into my ear.
“Yes, yes, he is.”
“The guy is packin’,” she says. “Like … is there a grenade in there?”
“Stop,” I tell her.
“Aw, are you getting all hot and bothered?” she teases.
“Yes, okay? Yes, I’m getting hot and bothered. Do you see him? He’s as freaking hot as the goddamn Mexican sun, Grace. I don’t know what to do. I want him, but that’s wrong on your bachelorette weekend, and it’s wrong because I’ll never see him again after tomorrow. At this point in my life, I’m not looking for a one-night stand like you might think. I’m lonely, and I want someone to love.”
I didn’t mean to pour all that out. It was like the vomit I’ve been holding in all morning. Grace wraps her arms around my neck. “Have you bothered to ask him how long he’s staying in Mexico for?”
“I’m sure he’s not here on a vacation, working at concierge. That’s weird, right?”
Grace shrugs. “You should ask him those questions.”
“So, should we be talking or screwing? I don’t think we can manage both,” I argue.
“You can’t talk and screw at the same t
ime? Rex and I do it all the time. He doesn’t get home from work until late sometimes, and if we had the option of one thing or the other, we’d be missing out, right? So, we tell each other about our days while we release all of our daily built up sexual tension.”