Disclaimer: The Spanish comes from Google Translator. So I apologize if wreck anyone's language.

Mick sat in the sun relaxing. "Hey Mick!" a kid yelled and waved.

Mick smiled and waved back. Somehow he had booked a family friendly resort for his Christmas get-away. His first afternoon, he played with a group of kids in the gorgeous cerulean blue pool as if he were the activity director. Every time he tried to relax, they begged him to stay. As he scanned the lounge chairs, he wondered why parents let their kids play with a stranger.

After the wave, he turned his attention to the mystery novel on his kindle. Unfortunately, in the tropical sun, he needed to cool off. The minute he stepped in the pool the kids swarmed him like annoying bees.

"Play with us."

"Throw me."

"Come on, Mick."

He looked at his waterproof watch. "I'll give you thirty minutes. It's my vacation too. Why aren't you playing with your parents?"

The answers varied from they're no fun to my mom doesn't want to get her hair wet and my mother is at the spa. Mick didn't think the resort hired life guards as babysitters. After an impossible game of Marco Polo in the enormous pool, Mick threw each kid three times before attempting to swim into the deep end.

When they pulled on his legs and arms, he sternly said, "I won't play with you tomorrow." The next day was Christmas.

When they let go he dove under the line marking the deep end and swam underwater. He couldn't get a full week off to go home to Boston for Christmas, so he took a mini vacation on the Rosario Islands, a two-hour boat trip from Cartagena, his home for another half a year.

As a structural engineer, he took on a project that started as a year long, but extended to two. At the time getting away felt like a good idea. Ironically, the turbulence with his friends had settled down, and Tyler had a newborn baby. The last he heard both Lucy and Emily were in committed relationships.

Mick didn't date, because he wanted to avoid falling in love with a local girl. As beautiful as Colombia was, it wasn't his home. Maybe the mom in the spa would be interested in a Christmas fling, no strings attached.

After he surfaced, he climbed out of the deep end to avoid the kids. When he returned to his chaise, a bikini-clad female had taken the chair next to him. Mick took his time wiping his skin with the small resort towel. Although she wore sunglasses, he could tell she was looking at him. Was she old enough? His eyes lingered on the top of her string bikini and saw a perfect mouthful, anymore was a waste.

As he sat a server appeared with a colorful drink garnished with fruit for the young woman. She accepted the drink and said, "Gracias, Enrico." She took a sip. "¡Qué rico!" (That's lovely!)

Surprised she spoke Spanish, he commented, "Puedes hablar Espanol."

"Si. Do you?"

He smiled. "I do, but I'm enjoying speaking English at the resort." Speaking Spanish at work had gotten easier, but he often went days without speaking to anyone in English.

She laughed. "And I wanted the chance to speak Spanish. ¿Cuántos hijos tiene?" (How many children do you have?)

He laughed. "No kids. I'm not sure how I've become the pied piper."

She looked at him. "That's really kind of you. Where are their parents?"

He looked around. "Anywhere. I find it odd that they don't care their kids were all over me. I mean I'm a nice guy, but how do they know?"

She smiled. "How do I know?"

He laughed. "You don't. Where's your family?"

"I don't have children."

"Um, I meant your parents."

She shook her head. "I escaped on my own. What about you?"

He smiled. "Just a break from work. I'm temporarily working in Cartagena."

"For how long?"

"Two years in total. I have another six months."

"Two years can feel like a very long time."

"Let me guess, you have two years until you graduate."

She laughed. "How old do you think I am?"

"Nineteen. Twenty?"

She laughed. "You are way off."

"Twenty-six?"

She laughed. "I don't know why I look so youthful. I'm thirty-four."

"I don't believe you!" He studied her again, but only saw a fit body and vibrant skin. "I feel older than my thirty-three years."

She chuckled. "I'm older than you."

He smiled amusingly. "I'm Mick."

She cocked her head. "Like Mickey?"

He smirked. "Only in bed." She snorted a laugh. "I'm joking, except that one time." His voice trailed off. "Anyway, it's short for Michael, but that's my old man's name." He studied her for a moment. "¿Cómo te llamas?" (What's your name?)

She laughed. "Trisha."

"Short for Patricia."

She shook her head. "Nope, but most people call me Trish. What kind of work do you do?"

"Structural engineer. It's like a glorified construction worker." She chuckled, but he wasn't trying to be funny. "What about you?"

She bit her lip. "Can we skip the details? I, um, came here to get away."

Mick understood not everyone had a job they wanted to brag about. She had to have been escaping something to spend Christmas alone. A break up. Family drama. A married lover. He liked the last one. Her youthful looks could attract the jailbait crowd without breaking any laws. He thought about the story of Poppy and the pastor. Tyler's wife was dumped for an underage girl. Mick found it disgusting.

"Fine with me. My life is boring. I've never been married and haven't dated in years."

"You? With your tan skin and looks." She waved at him as if to convey more than his face. Physically, Mick took care of himself. He liked to eat healthy and exercise. "You're cut."

He laughed. "Do you think so?"

She snorted, which was adorable. "Every woman on this island has noticed. You could easily end your drought."

He smirked and tilted his head. "Do you have a drought you would like to end?"

She laughed. "You deserve someone like that." Her eyes followed a woman with large breasts and a bikini bottom that showed most of her ass.

Sexy to Mick meant more than tits and ass. "I wonder if she's a neurosurgeon."

Trisha laughed and choked on her drink. "I doubt she's old enough."

Mick suspected she was right. He would have to google to find out how long it took to be qualified to operate on the brain. Instead of telling Trish he thought she was sexy, he said, "Do you want to get dinner with me? Just friends."

She laughed. "Friends. More like strangers."

"You want to keep it superficial, but I'm sure we can find something to talk about. It's better than eating alone on Christmas Eve."

She nodded with a small smile. "Yeah. Okay."

The resort was all-inclusive, so he wasn't offering to pay for her meal. "Great. Say seven?"

She nodded. "That works. I'm going to cool off."

Mick thought about joining her, but a swarm of kids were still in the pool. Instead, he watched as she walked into the cool water. A day ago if anyone asked if he would find a petite, physical build appealing, he would have scoffed. He took out his kindle before his thoughts went to his dick.

When she returned, he looked up. "Do you workout?"

She laughed. "No, but I'm on my feet all day." He imagined her waiting tables. He would leave a big tip. "Obviously, you do."

"It's a stress release. You look like you play sports."

She shrugged. "Soccer through high school. Were you a three sport athlete?"

"Not winter. I'm not built for basketball."

"So football and baseball?"

He laughed. "Soccer and lacrosse. Maybe we should kick a ball around."

She laughed. "I haven't touched a ball in years."

"You're on vacation. It's a perfect time to have some fun." From the pool, he heard his name being chanted. As he put down his kindle, he said, "Maybe one of them has a ball."

Some kids were American, but a few were Colombian. He interchanged English and Spanish as easily as he dreamed in Spanish. Perhaps Trish lived in a Spanish prevalent region. San Antonio? Tucson? New York City? Miami? The possibilities were endless.

When he reached the pool, the kids crowded around him. They had a foam ball and wanted to play keep-away, but his long arms kept getting the ball. A small boy climbed on his back and tried to hold his arms. Mick couldn't shake him off. Before long they were all jumping on him and pulling him down. By the time he got free, the chair next to his was empty.

Mick returned to his room and showered. With plenty of time before seven, he made the mandatory phone call. Hopefully, his father was home.

The phone at his house in Newton rang five times before he heard his mother's voice. "Your father's not here."

"Feliz Navidad." He should have called his father's cell, but no one could accuse him of not wishing his mother Merry Christmas.

"You aren't home." It was a statement not a question.

"Nope." He imagined her smiling.

She paused. "Your father is at work."

No surprise there. The man worked every day of the year. Mick was about nine when he noticed his parents' marriage wasn't like his friends' parents. Chickie and Arthur shared a bed, but his parents each had their own rooms. Even as an adult, he couldn't imagine his father in his mother's room or the other way around. It was no wonder he was an only child.

"Will he be there long? Do you have plans?"

"I'm going to my sister's to celebrate."

Mick missed his cousins. His Aunt Lori and Uncle Bruce lived in a large home in Winchester, north of Boston. They knew how to celebrate Christmas and Mick felt homesick. Tyler was his best friend, but his cousin Hunter came next.

His father's voice happily greeted him when he called his phone.

"Mick, son. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dad. I'm staying on an island for a few nights. I sat by the pool all day. That beats Christmas in Boston."

Mick didn't believe his own words. Christmas without snow and celebrating with his family and friends made it hard to get in the holiday spirit.

"When are you done?"

"Summer. I hope."

"I heard Chickie is a grandmother."

He rolled his eyes. "A girl. Don't worry. I won't knock up a Colombian girl." He had been living like a nomad his entire professional career. Ironically, he loved kids. Playing with the pool gang was a bit much, mostly because there were too many of them. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'm not sure. I might enjoy the empty house and miss you, son."

Mick felt guilty for deserting his father. "Next year, I promise I'll be home."

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