my way down the sidewalk following hand-painted signs on pieces of wood nailed to palm-tree trunks that read “Fresh Market” above a rainbow arrow.
I found the market in the heart of town.
It was a haphazard collection of tents and tables set up on a grassy field with hardly any shade. The ocean was only fifty or so paces to the left, and a gentle breeze tugged at the collar of my linen shirt as I wandered through the tables and booths and scoped out what they had to offer.
The fruit was out of this world. I’d never seen such vibrant colors in my life, and I stopped to buy mango, coconut, papaya, and pomegranate. I bought leafy greens and fresh fish, and by the time I had enough food to last me the next couple of days, I’d been discovered by a trio of Canadian women who were all there on vacation.
One of them, a slender and beautiful brunette, peered into my bag. “What did you buy?”
“Food,” I said lamely.
Her dark eyes swept up to meet mine and she giggled lightly. “I can see that.”
Her friend, a blonde in a highlighter-yellow bikini that was stretched to the absolute limits over her tits, nudged me with her shoulder. “You like to cook?” Her tits bounced. The fabric strained.
I kept my eyes away from her breasts, which I was sure were going to spring free of the little pieces of fabric any second. “When I feel like it, yes.”
The third girl was also blonde. Her hair was cut short and she was petite in every way, from her dainty wrists to narrow ankles. “Stop harassing him, you guys. He’s shy.”
The brunette flashed me a charming smile. “I love shy guys.”
“Umm…” I trailed off.
All three of them burst into a fit of giggles. My cheeks burned.
“Do you have any brothers?” the brunette asked.
“One,” I said.
“Is he as cute as you?” The petite blonde’s gaze swept me up and down, making me feel like one of the bright-colored fruits on display at the market.
“He’s young,” I said.
“How young?” the girls asked in unison.
“Twenty-four.”
“That’s not too young,” the short-haired girl teased. “Not for me anyway. Is he here?”
“No,” I said.
“Pity,” she pouted. The puckered lower lip disappeared within seconds, however. She stepped in really close and put her hand in the middle of my chest. Her nails were long, pointy, and banana yellow. “The five of us could’ve had some real fun. Do you like whipped cream, handsome?”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I tried to speak, but all that came out of me was a pathetic unnf sound.
Pull it together, Peter. You big dumb oaf. They’re just girls!
The brunette turned to the petite blonde. “I think that’s a yes.”
The one with banana nails gave me a coy smile before letting her hand fall from my chest. “I think you’re right, Malory.”
I laughed nervously and backed up. Had my hands not been loaded down with woven shopping bags overflowing with fresh produce, I’d have held them up innocently in a desperate plea to get the girls to give me some space. I wasn’t in the Caribbean to go to raging parties with beautiful young women or indulge in whatever fantasy they had of licking whipped cream off of each other’s taut bodies. Although I couldn’t deny that sounded like a good way to spend an evening.
I gave my head a shake.
No, you idiot. Knowing your luck, you’d make a total ass of yourself in front of these girls. They’re looking for a frat boy, not a thirty-two-year-old with a healing collarbone. You are not their definition of a good time.
I needed an escape.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I have to—”
“Come with us back to our hotel,” the brunette, Malory, demanded.
“I can’t.”
“Don’t play hard to get,” the blonde in the dental-floss bikini purred. “It’ll be fun! We can have some drinks and lounge by the pool.” She paused to lean in close, almost conspiratorially, like she was telling me a secret. Her lips grazed my earlobe as she whispered. “And when we’re all feeling good and ready, you’ll be begging me to sit on your face while my girls here take care of you.”
I choked on my own spit.
The three girls descended into uproarious fits of laughter that drew more than enough attention to make my cheeks burn even more furiously than they had been minutes ago.
I shook my head vigorously. “No, I’m flattered, but no. I have things to do. Food to cook. Um,