The Decoy Read online

  “OK, let’s roll,” he says as he opens the sliding door and looks down at me.

  “Do we have to, Dad?” I pout.

  “Yes, dear. We have to. But if you’re good, you can get ice cream,” he says deadpan.

  “Woohoo!!” I yell and jump up into his arms. We both giggle and head out to the beach.

  Chapter 3

  “Mas, por favor,” Grant says as the cabana boy walks by us. We had stopped on our way out here and booked a monkey tour, a spa treatment, a cabana for each day, a snorkel trip, and a sunset cruise for our last night.

  The cabana boy hurries away toward the bar for Grant’s third drink in thirty minutes.

  “Jesus, slow down there. Betty Ford doesn’t have an opening until next week,” I chastise.

  “Probably because you have a whole wing booked there. You do realize you’ve had four piña coladas already,” he retorts.

  “They don’t count. They are practically a fruit juice, plus they are mixed with ice, so really I’m just hydrating,” I explain.

  “Right…you keep thinking that, buttercup,” he says with a laugh.

  I roll over and pull a book from my beach bag.

  “What are you reading?” Grant asks.

  “Smut,” I answer with a smirk.

  Grant flashes me a grin and pulls out an equally smutty read.

  “Touché,” I say.

  “Girl, I invented smut,” he says in his best posh accent.

  “Right,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm.

  “Hey, can you rub some sunscreen on my back?” I ask.

  He nods. “Don’t want you turning into a tomato on day one,” he says as he lathers me with SPF 50. “I’m unhooking your top,” he says as he continues slathering my skin.

  I nod and return to reading my book.

  It’s the sound of seagulls that wakes me. I open one eye and peer over my sunglasses. I gasp as I see the hot guy from earlier heading this way. I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth and flip over quickly. I hear Grant begin to laugh and not like a “haha, this book is funny” laugh. No, Grant is in near hysterics.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” I ask him. “You wanna share that with the class?”

  He wipes his eyes. “Sweetie, I don’t think you re-fastened your top,” he says, as he bats his eyes at me in the most obnoxious way. I glance down, and to my horror, I’m topless, and not like my bikini is still attached somehow and just askew, nope, the damn thing is completely off, and I am sitting up in my chair with my boobs on display. I quickly cross my arms over them and look around. We’re in the back of the rows of chairs, and there are bushes behind us. I think I’m in the clear until I look to my left and see Mr. Hottie walking toward a chair in the row ahead of us. He raises an eyebrow at me before taking a seat on the lounge chair in front of mine.

  I groan, and quickly grab the bikini top and fasten it back on before pulling my cover-up over my head and putting my hat on as well, just for good measure.

  “Thanks for re-fastening my top, asswipe,” I grumble.

  “Sorry. You’re fine, no one saw,” Grant says. “Well, no one straight anyways.”I glare at him, and motion to the man who just sat down. Grant shrugs and rolls off the chair to go walk down to the water.

  “You coming?” he asks me.

  I shake my head.

  “Suit yourself, it’s hot as balls here,” he points out as he wades into the water.

  I watch him. He is a good-looking guy. I can see several women watching him as well. This is nothing new. Grant is a chick magnet. Not only is he chiseled, but he’s also super fun and a total charmer.

  I find that I’m frowning, and I quickly put back on a neutral face as the cabana boy, named Juan, brings me my drink.

  I’m desperate to cool off, but that would mean walking by the hot guy who just saw me topless. So, of course, I’m going to sit here and stew in my own sweat.

  I turn back to my book but then eye the book Grant had been reading. I shrug and pick it up to read it, as I turn it around, I realize it is an orgy book and the cover…well, let’s just say you would know the plot by looking at the cover.

  I quickly toss the book back down on his chaise lounge like it’s on fire or covered in the plague. I grab my book and am about to start reading it again when I glance up to find Mr. Hottie Pants is standing by his chair. He’s pulled his shirt off and is smirking at me.

  Oh shit, oh shit.

  “Good book?” he asks, nodding at the offending piece of literature that I’ve just tossed aside like it had rabies.

  “Uh, not sure. It’s not mine,” I say, nodding at Grant.

  Mr. Hottie Pants looks toward Grant who has already made friends with four older women who are floating around him on inner tubes. He nods and proceeds to go into the water. He dives beneath, and when he surfaces, I sit mesmerized by the rivulets of water running off his perfectly sculpted body.

  A few minutes later, Grant appears next to me.

  “Dude, you look like you’re about to die of heat stroke. Seriously, go in the fucking water,” he says as he lies down on his chair and picks up his book.

  I shake my head. “I think I’ll just go up to the pool. Maybe, get a drink there and cool off,” I say as I stand and grab my bag.

  “Really, we’re at the beach, Reag. Why spend it at the pool?” he asks, waving a hand in the direction of the ocean and the man I’m now trying to avoid.

  “See ya,” I say as I rush past Grant, who calls out after me.

  The pool is empty compared to the beach. I toss my stuff on a chair, remove my cover-up, and dive into the water, which feels AMAZING! I didn’t realize how much I needed to cool down until I was immersed in the freezing cold water. Alright, it’s really like moderately warm water, but I’m probably close to a hundred degrees, so it feels like it’s freezing.

  I swim up to the bar and order myself a rum and Coke. I sip my drink, closing my eyes at the tasty goodness. Once I feel as though I’m not dying of heat stroke, I climb out of the pool and lie down. I read for a while until a shadow blocks the sun from my face. I look up and find Grant standing with his hands on his hips.

  “You done having a coronary? I want to get some food,” he says, pointing to a café by the pool. I shrug. “Reagan Elizabeth Monroe! Get your ass up!” he yells.

  I cringe and glance around the pool, but fortunately, no one is paying us any attention. I glare at him over the rim of my sunglasses.

  He motions again to the café. I roll my eyes and get up, tossing my belongings in my beach bag.

  “Fine,” I huff like a petulant child as I follow him to the café. I love him, really I do, but sometimes he drives me nuts, and he most definitely brings out the pre-adolescent in me.

  We sit down and order drinks.

  “So? Why did we run away?” he asks me as he runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

  I sigh. I can’t lie to Grant. First, he knows me too well. Second, he will badger me to death until I spill it.

  “I was embarrassed. OK?!” I respond.

  “Why? ’Cause your boobs showed?” he asks me.

  Several people glance over at us, and I glare at him.

  “It’s not a big deal. Seriously, there are tons of foreigners here that come from places where that is totally normal,” he says, waving it off like no biggie.

  “Well, it’s not normal for me,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Reagan, you need to chill out!” he exclaims as he raises his finger, calling over our waiter again.

  “We’ll have a round of doubles,” he says, motioning to his drink. I screw my face up because he’s drinking scotch, and I am not a scotch drinker.

  “Trust me, you need it more than I do,” he says as the waiter returns with our drinks. Grant pushes both over to me. I shake my head.

  “Hell no, I can’t drink all that. Don’t we have some sort of welcome dinner later? I’ll be shit-faced! Remember…decoy,” I say emphatically as I point to mysel
f. “I have a cover to maintain.”

  He laughs and waves his hand as though I’m being ridiculous. I sip some of the scotch. I scrunch up my nose.

  “Drink it,” he commands. I don’t know why, but I always end up giving in to him.

  I take another sip and another. By the fifth sip, I decide the stuff isn’t half-bad.

  In fact, Grant is right. So, what if I bared my boobs for all to see? I mean, I’m not heinous looking or anything, and I’m on vacation. I’ll never see that guy again.

  Chapter 4

  Zach

  I gaze out at the ocean. This is the perfect vacation. When my frat brother, Lee, had reached out to me and our friend Harrison about coming to his wedding in Mexico, I was skeptical. First, Mexico was totally not Lee’s family’s thing. And second, Maggie was just…well, I wasn’t sure if Lee was truly in love with Maggie. The few times we’d hung out, it didn’t seem like they were behaving like a couple that was going to get married. Not that I’d have a clue what that looked like, my girlfriend of five years had slept with my old boss last year. So, I was spending quality time working on myself and my business.

  I sigh and try to push that memory out of my head. I take in a deep breath just as a laugh rings out in my ear.

  “Already scoping the vacation booty?” a voice says.

  I look up and into the eyes of one of my oldest friends, Harrison Wesley. Harrison, Lee, and I had been frat brothers, pledging together freshman year and finally moving in together senior year. Even several years out of school now, we remain close and try to vacation together at least once a year.

  Harrison and Lee came from super-rich families. Not that I hold that against them, I just don’t come from that type of wealth. My family is more like your stereotypical suburban family. My dad is a high school principal, and my mom is an art teacher. Even my younger sister, Kaley, is a teacher. I, on the other hand, own my own company. Adams Consulting is a PR company that works with nightclubs predominately, which comes in handy since Harrison’s family owns about eleven nightclubs. Lee is just plain old money. I’ve never met his family, but the stories have me dying to see what they are like in real life. His stories are epic. Yeah, don’t judge, I might be here for some entertainment. Harrison and Lee practically made me come after “she who won’t be named” put me into this funk.

  “Hey, wanna grab drinks before this fancy-schmancy dinner?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Sure, just let me change first,” I reply as I grab my stuff and head toward our room.

  I throw on black linen dress pants and a white button-down linen shirt. Harrison gave me explicit instructions on what to wear to each event. I sat and rolled my eyes as I packed. Harrison is our group’s fashion guru. Not only does his family own nightclubs, as does he, but he also is a co-owner of a fashion line. His sister, Aggie, is the other owner. Their lives, much like Lee’s, seem unreal to me. Hanging out with them is like seeing how the other half lives. But they have hearts of gold, and they’ve always had my back, so I know Harrison won’t lead me astray.

  I walk down the hallway toward the exit closest to the bar that Harrison just texted me to meet him at. I’m about to reach a hallway to the exit, when someone turns the corner abruptly and trips, falling straight into me. I catch the person, steadying them.

  “Whoa. You OK?” I ask.

  “Oh, I’m soooo slorry,” says a voice that seems a little familiar.

  I look down and into sparkling blue eyes. They are mesmerizing, like watching the water swirl in an ocean pool.

  It takes me a moment to realize, this is the boob girl from the beach. It takes me another moment to realize that she’s completely wasted. I find this a little disappointing if I’m being entirely honest.

  I want to sigh, but I merely look at her again.

  “You sure you’re OK?” I ask again.

  “Yepper,” she says staggering as I slowly let go of her.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” I ask.

  She looks down at her wristband that is also the room key. Slowly, she turns it around.

  “Three-five-six,” she says triumphantly. She pauses then, a look of confusion on her face. “No…,” She shakes her head.

  “No, what?” I ask.

  She shakes her head again. Her eyes look a little clearer as she looks up at me.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have drunk so much scotch. I’m supposed to be going to the Star Bar,” she says.

  “I don’t think you need any more alcohol,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Sorry?” she asks.

  “Follow me, I’m heading that way,” I say as I resign myself to playing babysitter to this woman until I get her safely to the bar.

  “Thank you,” she says slowly as though she has to think about that response. She follows me practically tripping over her own feet. I take her arm and loop it through mine, trying to steady her.

  She shakes her head. “I’m so stupid. What was I thinking?” she mutters as we walk across a park area in between buildings.

  “Sorry?” I ask her.

  “Nothing,” she mumbles. “I’m going to kill Grant.”

  “Is Grant your boyfriend?” I ask.

  “Grant’s my…friend,” she says, looking up at me suspiciously.

  “Friend?” I repeat.

  She nods. “He made me drink too many scotches this afternoon. He knows I can’t drink that stuff,” she says. “I’m going to fuck it all up. Damn it!”

  “You’re going to fuck up what?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head as we approach the bar. “Never mind. Thank you for your help. Really, it was kind of you. You didn’t have to help out a drunk adult who should know better, but you did. So…thanks,” she says, looking down at the ground.

  “Well, you really shouldn’t drink that much. Especially in this heat,” I scold.

  Her cheeks flush a delicious shade of pink and my mind suddenly wonders what other parts of her flush that color. She glances up at me, and again I’m caught up in her eyes.

  “I know,” she says like a child that’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Well, lesson learned. Here,” I say as we enter the bar. I grab a bottled water off of a nearby drink bar and hand it to her. The bartender gives me a look, and I shrug my apology and nod at her. He looks and shrugs, getting back to his work.

  “Thanks…again,” she says as she sips the water.

  Suddenly, a man about my height and dressed in a very expensive-looking suit approaches us. I recognize him as the man she was with this afternoon. He must be the “friend.”

  “Jesus, Reag! You are plastered. Grandmother will be here soon. Let’s sober you up, pronto,” he says as he takes her hand and starts to walk away then turns to me.

  “Are you here for the wedding?” he asks. “Lee’s wedding?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  He then gives me a grin. “Well, the main event is just ahead then. I hope this one didn’t give you too much trouble. She’s not known for handling her alcohol. Guess I underestimated how much she had to drink earlier today.”

  “She should be careful,” I mutter, suddenly feeling a little protective of her. This guy seems clueless and sort of a bit of an ass.

  He sighs. “I know. It’s honestly my own fault. I was trying to get her to relax. I may have given her two glasses too many.”

  I give him a hard stare. He raises his hand in defeat. “Fine, three glasses. But she’s a big girl. She could have said no.”

  I really just want to punch him. What type of “friend” doesn’t take care of his woman?

  Just when I’m about to chastise him, Harrison comes wandering over to us.

  “Hey, there you are,” he says and pats me on the shoulder.

  “Lee was looking for you.”

  “Hey, aren’t you Lee’s cousin?” Harrison asks, turning to the guy.

  “Yeah, Grant Pierce,” he says, holding out a hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Harr
ison Wesley, and this is Zach Adams. We went to college with Lee,” he explains.

  Grant nods to us both. He then finally has the audacity to look sheepish. “I should probably get her some more water,” he says, motioning to his friend who is precariously holding onto a railing.

  Harrison, who seems almost as oblivious as Grant, extends a hand to her. “Hey,” he says. “Harrison.”

  “Reagan,” she answers, shaking his hand while keeping a death grip on the railing.

  With the introductions done, we all step out to a deck area that overlooks the beach. There are stairs down to it on one side and the other side hangs out over a small pool.

  Reagan makes her way over to the railing with her bottled water. Grant follows her.

  “What’s the deal with those two?” I ask Harrison who knows Lee’s family better than I do.

  “They are off and on again since college. Guess they are on again. Grant’s a fun guy, but I hear he’s a huge partier…he’ll probably be fun to hang out with this week,” Harrison considers to himself as he looks over at Grant.

  Jesus, fucking Christ! I know that look. Harrison has a thing for Grant. To be perfectly honest, I was a little surprised when Harrison was invited to the wedding. He’s far from flamboyant, but he is out and, well, Lee’s grandmother is apparently the biggest prejudice bitch that ever lived, and she’s here. Literally, as I’m thinking this an older woman that I recognize from photographs walks into the reception. She’s escorted by Lee’s parents, Meredith and Charles Pierce, and another couple. From the looks of it, I’d guess that the other guy is Charles’ brother because there is no mistaking their similarities.

  I watch as Grant and Lee walk over to their grandmother along with Lee’s sister, Caroline, and her husband, Victor Franklin. Caroline is a lot older than Lee and also isn’t that close to him, but apparently, she’s close enough to attend the wedding. I watch from afar for a moment or two before going to the bar for a drink. A moment later there’s a thud as someone sits down next to me. I glance over to find Reagan sitting slumped over a bottled water.

  “You OK?” I ask her.