I keep going, down her arm, her fingertips, the palm of her hand and then back up again.
“Here for certain.” I press a kiss against her collarbone and move down to the slope of her breast. “Here.”
I try to show her with my mouth what I should be telling her with words, but kissing her is so much easier.
CHAPTER TEN
DOWNTOWN CABO SHIMMERS in the Mexican heat. Sticking my head in a pizza oven would be cooler. The driver dropped Max, Maple, Hazel and me at a flea market near the marina when Hazel announced she wanted to pick up some souvenirs. The colorful stalls are packed close together. Vendors call out to us, inviting Hazel to “come and look, senorita.” She beams and chatters back in Spanish.
When did she learn Spanish?
And why does she want to buy this...crap?
I look around, trying to see the market through her eyes. There are art galleries in Cabo San Lucas, along with some seriously talented local artists and craftsmen. This stuff, however, looks less than authentic. I don’t think a T-shirt announcing that “Somebody in Cabo loves me” is part of mainstream Mexican culture. In addition to stacks of cheap T-shirts, there are colorfully embroidered white dresses, serapes and these little bobble-headed animals—turkeys, dinosaurs, crocodiles and what looks like a mutant platypus. I set the tiny nodding heads into motion with a flick of my finger. Hopefully Hazel gets her shopping fix fast and we can head back to the hotel. We haven’t christened every room in the villa yet and I have definite plans for the shower.
Max pokes at a pair of red-and-green maracas. He looks bored. “Why do they need us here?”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
“Do you think Maple would like this?” It’s good that he’s abandoned the maracas—the man has no rhythm, which makes his relationship with a professional ballet dancer miraculous—but the T-shirt he’s holding is a little...obscene. I had no idea that you could walk around in public with that kind of suggestion on your chest.
“Put it back if you want to have sex tonight.”
Max grins. He’s fucking with me.
“So are you and Hazel a thing now?” Max drops the shirt back on top of the stack.
“Why would we be a thing?”
“Because you’re getting it on?” Max’s voice is light but the look in his eyes says I’d better not be messing with Hazel. She may have been my friend first, but she’s one of us now and Max will totally throw down for her.
“Why would you think that?”
Max snorts. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
“We’re just friends,” I say. “But with benefits.”
Max nods slowly. “Right. But you and I are friends and we’re not screwing.”
“Because you’re not my type. And it’s none of your business.”
Another hard look from Max. “I like her. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“I like her, too, dumbass. And it was her idea.”
Max scrubs a hand over his head. “Fine. Then I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t,” I scoff. “This is just fun. We’re not in a relationship. Neither of us wants that.”
“If you say so.” Max shrugs. “But you’re friends, right?”
“Of course.” I turn to follow the girls up the aisle.
“So you’re already in a relationship,” he points out.
“It’s not like that.”
“So what is it like?” He frowns. “Because Maple and I are friends, but we’re also in a relationship and we have sex. I’m not following.”
“You go out together. You tell people that you’re together. You plan on sticking together.”
A smile curves Max’s mouth. “Fuck, yeah. I’m not stupid.”
“Hazel and I are just using each other for sex until we find someone else. It’s not a real relationship.” That doesn’t sound good, now that I say it out loud. “I’m not her boyfriend. She doesn’t want me like that.”
“It’s your business. I’m just trying to understand whether or not Maple and I have to keep pretending we don’t know the two of you are having kinky sex every time you think the rest of us aren’t looking. And what’s the plan when one of you decides to date someone else?”
“It’s not dating. And it’ll be fine.” My brain conjures up a mental image of Hazel on a real date, the kind that involves a great restaurant, wine and roses. Hazel kissing Nameless Guy good-night on the doorstep and then inviting him in. Naked Hazel in bed with some nameless, faceless, spineless dick. “We’ll work it out.”
Do I want Hazel to end things between us? Not a chance. But that was the deal we had, right? We’d have sex temporarily until one of us found a better long-term bet. Even though she complains about her family giving her shit, Hazel wants that and I’m not capable of giving it to her. Plus, she’s never indicated that she sees me as forever material, anyhow. She’d probably run screaming if I suggested it. Which I’m not going to do.
Maple and Hazel are haggling now with a guy in a pottery stall. They’re surrounded by stacks of blue-and-white-print vases, sugar bowls and pitchers on the wooden shelves. A faintly musty smell fills the air, as if everything has gotten wet more than once despite us being surrounded by desert. Sunlight pours in the entrance and the heat bakes down on me. There’s an entire toilet done in colorful tiles—tank, base, seat and lid. It’s a miracle of either engineering or superglue.
Max eyes me. “So how does it work?”
“How does what work?” I ask impatiently.
“Looking for someone else when you’re having sex with your friend.” Max frowns. “Is this one of those open relationships? Do you have three-ways?”
“No.”
Hazel wraps up the purchase with a sharkish smile. The vendor looks halfway to being in love with her, even though he’s practically paying her to haul away a sink made out of brightly colored tile. Apparently Hazel’s decided to remodel her mountain cabin. I make a mental note to ask the
