Monica McKayhan - Tropical Fantasy

After slipping her iPhone into a small compartment on the outside of her purse, she stood with her boarding pass in hand—it wouldn’t be long after preboarding that first-class passengers would begin their ingression. She was anxious to get on the plane, because she knew that sleep would find her before the captain turned on the Fasten Your Seat Belts sign, and long before the flight attendants asked what she wanted to drink. She’d sleep through the entire flight and be refreshed when her little sister met her at the gate.

Her little sister was getting married, she thought and smiled. Little Bridget, who once wore French braids with colorful beads on the ends. She was the tenderhearted one who always cried during the hair-combing process—she always made such an unnecessary scene. Their mother would be so frustrated after dealing with Bridget that Sasha would end up with four cornrows down the center of her head instead of the French-braided love knot that she wanted so badly.

Bridget was definitely the baby of the family. She had their parents wrapped around her skinny little finger. Even now, as she insisted on a big wedding in the Bahamas instead of a quiet little ceremony at their family’s church in Fayetteville, she’d far exceeded the budget that their father had set aside for her. And Sasha wondered if there’d be anything left for her in the event that she decided to get married someday. Although it seemed like a ridiculous thought at the moment, she hadn’t completely ruled it out. However, she’d created a little nest egg of her own, just in case.

Soon she was on the plane, and as expected, slept through the entire trip. Next thing she knew, she’d arrived at her destination.

Nassau, with its arresting views of palm trees and clear blue skies, was exactly as Sasha had remembered it. Her family had vacationed there a few times and stayed at the same resort where Bridget’s nuptials were scheduled to take place in the next day or two. She quickly gathered her luggage and stepped outside to look for her sister, who’d promised to meet her at baggage claim. Bridget was always fashionably late for everything, and Sasha often teased that she wouldn’t make it to her own funeral on time. She glanced at her watch once more before pulling her iPhone out of her purse to give her sister a call.

“Hello, Sasha,” a deep voice was saying, and when Sasha looked up she was staring into the deepest pair of brown eyes she’d ever seen. “I’m Vince. Vince Sullivan.”

“Oh, yeah, Derrick’s friend,” said Sasha.

“I was sent by the bride and groom to pick you up and ensure your safe arrival to the resort.” He grinned a beautiful set of white teeth. His dimples were like little chocolate valleys, and Sasha couldn’t help but stare.

“You’re late,” she said.

Towering almost two feet over Sasha’s small frame, Vince smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I was asked at the last minute to pick you up as a favor to the bride. She had to rush off somewhere in a hurry—something about shopping for women’s undergarments.”

“Great. She could’ve just told me to grab a cab.” Sasha sighed. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“It’s okay, really. It wasn’t very far. This is an island,” he chuckled.

Sasha didn’t find a bit of humor in his comment, nor did she find it cute that her sister had sent her fiancé’s best friend to fetch her from the airport. She tried with everything in her to be annoyed, but every time she caught a glance at those sexy brown eyes, she found herself mesmerized. He awakened things in her that she didn’t even know were there, and it confused her. As an attorney, she took pride in being in control, but something about Vince made her anything but. His presence made her unsettled, a bit anxious. She couldn’t understand it at all. What was wrong with her? She’d seen handsome men before. In fact, she’d met Vince before—on a couple of occasions.

Their first meeting had been a nightmare for Sasha. She’d backed into his car while trying to parallel park along the street in front of Derrick’s condo. She’d been apologetic, yet he’d made her feel as though she’d committed a crime. He’d accused her of being too preoccupied, and she thought he was making too big of a fuss over a small ding.

“You can barely see the scratch,” she’d said.

“This is a custom paint job,” he’d claimed, “Do you know how much this is going to cost to repair?”

“I have insurance,” Sasha spat. “I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”

And they had taken care of it, sending her premium through the roof. She’d developed a strong opinion of Vince in the process—he was arrogant.

Today he seemed much taller, and way more gorgeous. And had he always owned that deep set of dimples? She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember seeing them before. She was being ridiculous! Simply experiencing jet lag. And for that, she had the perfect remedy—a nice, long afternoon nap once she made it to her hotel quarters.

“Is this your only bag?” Vince was asking as he grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

“Yes,” she replied and suddenly wished she’d gone to the restroom and freshened up a bit, checked her hair. She hoped it wasn’t all over her head or smashed down in the back from the snooze she’d taken earlier.

She followed Vince to the silver Mercedes that was parked curbside with the flashers on. He popped the trunk and placed her bag inside.

“Can I take your smaller bag too?” he asked, pointing at her carry-on Coach bag. She handed it to him and he placed it in the trunk also. He moved around to the passenger’s side of the car, which happened to be the opposite side of cars in the United States. He held the door open for her until she slid onto the leather seat. She watched as he took his place behind the wheel of his rented vehicle.

“Doesn’t it confuse you—driving on the opposite side of the car?”

“I love a challenge.” He grinned that mesmerizing grin again.

“It seems silly, especially when most car rental places offer cars that are created the right way.”

“The right way?”

“Yes, with the steering wheel on the proper side of the car.”

“Proper according to whom?” Vince asked.

“According to car makers in the U.S. of A.,” said Sasha.

“Last time I checked, we weren’t in the U.S. of A.” He maneuvered the car into traffic and spoke in his best Bahamian dialect. “Ve’re in da islands of da Bahamas, with its clear blue skies, sandy beaches and da best conch fritters dis side of da hemisphere.”

Sasha laughed—she couldn’t help it. He sounded so ridiculous, yet he was cute in his own little way. And he had a sense of humor.

“Yeah, I wish I was on the other side of the hemisphere—in the U.S. of A. right now,” she said.

“Instead of here...in the beautiful Bahamas?”

“Yes, this wedding couldn’t have come at a worse time for me,” Sasha complained.

“Really? Why?”

“My office is hosting its annual retreat this weekend in Savannah, and I’m missing it. My sister’s nuptials are putting a real damper on my schedule,” she mumbled.

“Wow, you must be a workaholic,” said Vince.

“I’m not a workaholic. My career is just very important to me.”

“It’s your sister’s wedding. Isn’t that important too?” Vince glanced over at Sasha and pierced her with those brown eyes.

“Of course it’s important. It’s just...I just...well, it was just not a good time for me.”

“Are you really that shallow?” Vince asked. “There’s nothing more precious than family.”

Had he just called her shallow?

“I beg your pardon. You don’t know anything about me! And I’m not shallow.”