I'm halfway through a sunburn and three drinks deep when I see him again.

I'm sprawled out on the beach, alone in my own version of paradise, with the waves crashing in rhythm and a bottle of wine that I've made impressively short work of. The kind of day that almost has me forgetting the whole disaster that brought me here.

And then, as if pulled from the water itself, there he is, cutting through the evening shadows with that same cocky, killer smile. Hands shoved into his board shorts like he owns the world—or at least this little corner of it. The man from yesterday, with eyes like the sea after a storm and a build that'd make a Greek statue jealous.

A thrill races through me, as unexpected as it is ridiculous, and I push it down, firmly telling myself to stop ogling a man who is almost certainly taken. A guy that gorgeous doesn't make it to his thirties  - or at-least I hope at least thirty and I'm not ogling a barely legal man - without someone making him their life project. Probably some perfect, beachy, yoga-loving girlfriend who'd absolutely judge me for the empty wine bottle at my side. Not that I'd blame her.

But fuck it, I've had a shitty week.

I take a sip from the bottle as he approaches, my eyes tracking him like an animal.

Am I this desperate? This...insatiable? Maybe being cheated on has unleashed a side of me I don't recognize. Or maybe I just don't care anymore. I've been with Wyatt since the ink dried on my diploma, almost ten years together. Ten years of my life, sacrificed to a guy who couldn't stay faithful through the engagement. And now here I am—single, unemployed since I stupidly worked for the self-serving dick, and no family worth speaking of.

Well, except my dad, but I haven't spoken to him in years. Mom made sure of that after the divorce. I'd fallen in line like the good soldier I thought I was supposed to be. God, I was an idiot.

The man stalks up the beach, all smooth confidence, his muscles moving like a well-oiled machine, and I realize I'm sitting up, looking far too interested.

Maybe I deserved to have some fun.

A small, uncomplicated something with a single, equally carefree guy. Maybe this man has a friend I could lose myself in for a night.

"Couldn't keep away, huh?" The words are out before I can stop myself.

Why are you flirting with him River, stop it, stop.

His lips curl in a grin, and I brace myself against the charm radiating off him. "Wanted to make sure you had that umbrella figured out," he says, the words deep and laced with something I can't put my finger on. "But it seems you've mastered it without me this time."

"Maybe I don't need rescuing every time," I murmur, looking up at the man.

"Noted." He grins wider, and I catch myself glancing at the flex of his abs, visible even through his casual stance.

I look away.

"So, does the beach hero have a name?" I ask, leaning back.

"Levi," he says and I can't help the shiver that wants to take over.

Levi. I refrain from repeating his name back to him, placing my hand in his when he holds it out.

"River." My voice feels steadier than I expected as I place my hand in his. His fingers encompass mine, warm and strong, squeezing just enough to linger in that space between respectful and intrigued.

Surely a taken man wouldn't approach a woman like that?

"Nice to meet you, River." He steps back and my stomach drops, and I open my mouth to say something, to keep him here even when I know I shouldn't.

A harlot, you're a harlot.

"Thanks for the help yesterday," I say quickly, gesturing back toward the umbrella. "I was about ready to start cursing it in three different languages."

Lies, but whatever, the point stands. He chuckles, the sound as warm as the sun on my skin. "I figured that's where you were heading. Couldn't resist stepping in."

"Oh, I'm sure," I say, rolling my eyes with a smile, glancing up at him. "I bet you live for these damsel-in-distress scenarios."

His grin turns devilish, "Only when they make for good company afterward." I blink at the innuendo I'm sure he didn't mean to add in there. Did he?

This time, I really look at him. No ring. No tan line, either, not that it means much. But maybe, just maybe, he's here as single as I am.

I take a deep breath and steel my spine, the impulsive courage bubbling up along with the wine.You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take, River. Grow a pair of tits and speak.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" The words leave my mouth too fast, way too direct, but I can't help it. I bite my lip, trying to recover from the bluntness, but Levi's already grinning.

"No," he says, and there's that hint of mischief in his eyes again, almost as if he'd been waiting for me to ask. "I'm as unattached as it gets."

Good. My pulse races, the slight fuzziness from the wine making me braver, maybe reckless. "Because I could use a distraction. A... fling. Something uncomplicated."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the challenge. "And you think I'm uncomplicated?"

I laugh. "I think I don't know enough about you to complicate things yet." I raise my bottle in a small toast. "Let's keep it that way. Just...a holiday fling."

Levi watches me, his gaze traveling the length of me before he smirks. "Well, if it's a holiday fling you want, I'm as uncomplicated as it gets."

"Is that a yes?" I hush.

The exhilaration rushes over me, like taking a dare, like plunging into the deep end, and the two of us just watch each other, holding the moment in that space where neither of us has to say anything more. He extends his hand to me, the proposal cemented in the simple gesture.

"How about we get a drink first?"

I hold up the half drunk wine bottle, raising a brow.

"This one doesn't count?"

He chuckles, his thumb brushing my wrist as I place my hand in his. "A real drink. Besides, now you'll have to keep up with me."

I let him pull me up, fighting the giddy grin that wants to burst out. My hand tingles from the grip of his, and I find myself mentally checking off an absurd list: strong enough to lift me, check; hot enough to distract me from everything, double check; unattached, well, according to him, also check.

Here's hoping he's also good at following through, I think, smiling slyly as he leads me up toward the bar at the resort.

And as I walk beside him, a thought crosses my mind that I know is trouble but, frankly, I don't care. I'm here, he's here. And for now, that's enough.

Back at the bar, we settle into a cozy corner booth, the dim lighting casting a warm glow. He orders us both a round of tequila shots, his grin widening as he raises a brow at my slightly startled look.

"Trust me," he says, lifting his glass, "there's no better way to start a fling than with a little tequila."

"Oh, we're starting already?" I tease, feeling bold and a little reckless, clinking my glass with his.

He tilts his head, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Depends on how fast you drink."

I narrow my eyes in a challenge and down the shot, wincing as the tequila burns its way down. I watch him do the same, and he barely flinches, his gaze locked on mine the entire time.

We order another, and another, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the heat from his gaze. I feel my guard slipping, the laughter coming easier, the soft press of his leg against mine under the table something I'm increasingly aware of.

"So, River," he says, fingers lightly grazing the back of my hand. "Why'd you pick me?"

I shrug, leaning back, my gaze steady. ""You're hot and single, what else do I need?" 

He watches me for a moment, then nods, mirth glinting in his eyes. "Fair enough." He watches me, his gaze molten before reaching for another shot and downing it.

"So, Levi," I say, crossing my arms with a smirk. "Are we gonna keep skirting around it, or are we actually going to do this?"

He pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting as he leans back, "I may be uncomplicated but the place I'm staying isn't," he raises a brow, "Please say yours is?"

"I have a bed that definitely needs to be messed up."

"Count me in."