The Virgin Replay by Lauren Blakely
Chance
My mission is singular—make myself scarce ASAP.
As we walk around the tent, I acquire the target—a path winding between the palm trees that leads to the hotel entrance, aka, our escape hatch.
Which leads to our suite.
That’s where I want to be.
With Sierra’s hand in mine, I walk quickly.
Avoiding my parents.
Avoiding Natasha.
Avoiding everyone.
But when I reach the edge of the spongy grass, footsteps crunch in the night. I snap my gaze to my left. Jordy ambles over, bright gratitude in his blue eyes. Stopping at my side, he spreads his arms out wide. “You save baseball games, and you saved my sorry ass last night. Rockstar closer,” he booms. “Bring it in.”
Damn. I want to be in the fucking room. Instead, I give my cousin a hug and he hugs me back harder. “What would I have done without you?”
“Spent the night puking in the plumeria?” I suggest.
“Exactly. I owe you big time, bud.”
We break apart, and I slug his shoulder. “You’re all good, man,” I say, and flash him a grin.
Sierra does the same. “Glad you’re feeling better, Jordy.”
His bushy eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Oh, my bad! You’re with your lady. Sorry, big-ass sorry!” He eyes Sierra up and down and hums approvingly. “Way to upgrade, Chance. Very, very nice.”
I bristle. “Don’t talk that way about women. They aren’t cars.”
Jordy shrugs with a smile. “It was a compliment. I like cars and I like babes.” He turns to Sierra. “You’re prettier than his ex. And you’re also nicer. She never once asked if I was feeling better after a glass of wine.”
“Well, thank you for the compliment. I enjoy cars as well. And I’m glad you’re having a good time,” she says, handling Jordy like the bartender pro she is—smooth and good-natured, a kind word for everyone.
But Sierra truly is this person. She legitimately cares. She’s the opposite of Natasha, who was all farce, all online persona.
Sierra isthe same woman behind the bar and away from it—fiery and clever, loving and fierce, kind and strong. A person who gives a shit about people.
She’s the real deal.
My heart kicks a little faster.
I will it to settle down. Now isn’t the time for flutters. Or for adding up all her pros. “We’re having a great time,” I put in.
“Best wedding ever,” Jordy adds, not to be outdone. He claps me on the shoulder, his expression turning a touch concerned. “And you’re doing well, my man. You’re obviously over . . . the Bitchy McWitch.” He dips his voice. “But how was it seeing Trish walk down the aisle with Natasha right there? And with that Doofus McDickhead she’s with now watching from his seat?” He mimes gagging. “I have to see my ex at work all the time and it’s brutal. Carve my heart up with a chainsaw. But you—you doing okay?”
I traveled to Hawaii expecting this question.
I prepped for it.
Hell, that question is the very reason Sierra’s here. As a shield for people like Jordy who have no filter.
But the answer is remarkably easy, just like it was when Blake asked last night. Like it was when Natasha poked her head out at the party too. Turns out seeing the woman I devoted a decade of my life to feels a lot like . . . nothing.
Just nothing.
And that’s wonderful.
“You know, I feel great,” I tell Jordy from the heart.
A heart that’s filling up again, making space for someone else.
I loop an arm around Sierra’s waist, tugging her close. This contact isn’t make-believe, though. I don’t do it to show off a fake date.
I’m touching her because I want to.
Because she makes a day great and a night even better.
Turned out I didn’t need protection from uncomfortable questions. I’ve been over my ex for a long time. Since well before we divorced.
Maybe what I truly needed was an excuse to finally ask Sierra out.
After we say goodbye to Jordy, Sierra and I head into the hotel. Like I’ve drunk too much caffeine, I’m jazzed to tell her what I just realized. “Funny thing,” I say, my words spilling out. “I thought I would need you here as a buffer. I thought it would really bug me if people asked me about her.”
“Does it?”
I shake my head. “Not one single bit.”
“Because I’m here?”
“Yes, and because . . .” I shrug, big and wide. “I don’t care if anyone asks about her. I’ve been over her for a long time. They can say whatever they want. It’s like when someone says sucks that you lost the playoffs.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “It’s just life.”
“Just one of those things, and it’s fine.”
“So you didn’t need me after all,” she says, bright and cheery, like she’s proud of me.
But my personal growth isn’t the point I want to make with Sierra.
I stop in the hall, meet her gaze, run a hand down her cherry tree ink. This isn’t what I planned. I don’t know how this thing with us will play out in a few more days. But for now, I need to say this. “No, I didn’t need you as a fake date. But it turns out I want you . . . as a real date.”
In her gaze, I see new possibilities. I see so much more than I expected when we got on that plane yesterday. And I’ve no idea where our flight is headed.
“That’s all I want too,” she says softly.
It feels like we’re traveling to a new destination. But it’s entirely a mystery where we’re going.
