Sunny and 75 (Volume 1) Read online

  Butterflies started to form in my stomach when she glanced up and caught me watching her. I looked away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but before I did, I couldn’t help but notice a certain sadness in her dark brown eyes.

  I glanced around, looking for her husband or friends nearby but she appeared to be alone. Surely a gorgeous girl like her was here with at least a boyfriend. The Dominican wasn't exactly the place people traveled to alone. Maybe she was an early riser and came for some coffee before anyone else woke up.

  I yawned again; it was time to get my ass back to my room for a shower and bed. I looked over at the girl again and shook my head. If I were back in Chicago, she would be way out of my league. Girls like her used to never even give me a second look. Stuck up bitches. Now rich girls like that begged me to fuck them on a nightly basis.

  She didn’t seem like the type to have one-night stands though. Then again, if there's one thing I've learned since tending bar, it's the ones you least expect that are most willing to go back for a night of inhibited sex with a stranger.

  I drank the last of my coffee and got up from the table. I scrubbed my face with my hand and began the walk back to my little villa. I took a deep breath, the sweet scent of the blooming flowers on the path filling my nose. This place was paradise with the white sandy beaches and lush island greenery.

  I'd been in Punta Cana for almost three years and I had no plan to leave any time soon. There was nothing left for me back in the States anyway. Everyone there was better off with me on a little island in the middle of the ocean.

  I slipped the key in the door and went inside. My villa was a mess as usual. That was why I rarely brought women back here; if they saw what a slob I was, they'd probably never fuck me.

  I walked to the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I closed the door and noticed the date on the calendar hanging on the door. My heart started to pound. It was her birthday. She would've been twenty-five. I set the water down on the cupboard and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. If I was going to sleep today, I was going to need something stronger. Hell, I might just drink until I pass out. If I did that, I wouldn't have the horrible nightmares about that night that plague almost every night.

  I opened the bottle and took a long swig, the liquid burning as it went down my throat. I went to the bed and sat down, turning on the TV. I opened the drawer in the nightstand, checking to make sure my gun was there. The first few months in the Dominican, I didn't leave my room without my gun. I'd finally relaxed enough to keep it in my room when I went out, but I never went to sleep without it nearby.

  I took another drink and turned the channel to some morning show. Her fucking birthday. She always loved her birthday. She made a big deal of it, usually making the whole week about her. I would tease her about it, but I secretly loved it. She was special enough to have her own week; hell, I'd give her a birthday month if I could. There was nothing I refused her.

  My eyes started to sting with tears. I didn't let myself cry about her very often, but today was special. Today, she deserved my tears. After what I'd done, it was the least I could give her.

  Chapter Three ~ Julia

  I got back to my room after a light breakfast of fruit and coffee, wondering what the hell I was going to do now. There on the corner of the dresser were the messages the front desk had given me when I'd checked in. I hadn't read them yet and I wasn't sure I was going to.

  I walked over and picked them up. Most were from my father with a few from Patrick, my fiancée, or ex-fiancée, I guess I should say. I set them down with a sigh. I really didn't give a shit what they wanted, especially Patrick. He was the last person I wanted to talk to. In fact, I never wanted to see him again.

  My skin started to crawl the more I thought about him and our few years together. My father had introduced us after I graduated from college. I'd moved home for a month or two until I figured out my job situation. I thought I'd owed it to him to at least meet Patrick since he'd paid for my education and allowed me to move back in with him. I'd gotten my degree in graphic design, which he'd been less than thrilled with. I also loved to take photographs but there was no way his daughter was going to take pictures for a living. Photography soon became a hobby I would have little time for.

  I walked out to the small porch that faced the beach and sat down in the lounge chair. Maybe if my mother had been alive…

  I bit my lip, fighting back the tears. If she'd been alive, maybe Father wouldn't have forced me into marrying Patrick and then I wouldn't be in this mess.

  I buried my face in my hands and took a deep, shaky breath. It didn't matter; she was gone, dying of cancer when I was just five years old. A few people told me Father totally changed when she died; she'd been the love of his life and he'd been heartbroken. I could see it when I looked at old pictures of them together and it made my heart ache.They looked so happy and in love but I couldn’t ever remember him smiling.

  After meeting Patrick, his protégé at his investment firm, the rest was history. It was a whirlwind courtship and he proposed to me after only eight months of dating at one of the big parties my father's firm was always throwing. My life was quickly taking at turn I had never expected.

  I shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if I had married Patrick, but I was done feeling sorry for myself. I was going to stay here until I figured out what I was going to do next. I had my graphics design degree I'd barely done a thing with, quitting my job at a small ad agency after Patrick proposed so I could devote all of my time to planning our wedding and future life together.

  I had some money of my own and on my twenty-first birthday, I came into the trust my parents had set up for me. I could stay here for as long as I wanted to.

  I got up off my chair and grabbed the stack of messages. I went into the bathroom and tore them up into tiny pieces before throwing them into the toilet. Getting rid of my phone at the airport had been liberating and so was this. I flushed the toilet with a grin and went to the kitchenette for a bottle of water.

  My Aunt Cathy and best friend Sophia were probably worried about me. I got my laptop out of my bag and fired it up. There was no way I was going to check my personal email; I probably had a ton of messages there from Father and Patrick. I went to Gmail and started a new email account before sending them both a quick email to let them know where I was and that I was ok.

  I closed the laptop and jumped at the sudden clap of thunder. I went back out to the covered porch and watched as the rain came down in what appeared to be one big sheet. I lay down on the lounge chair, watching the rain.

  For the first time in years, I felt free and hopeful. Patrick had stifled me, making me become a shell of the girl I once was and I'd been so worried about pleasing him and Father, I lost track of who I was.

  No more. Even if I couldn’t go back to Chicago ever again, I wasn’t going to let anyone, especially a man, tell me what I could and couldn’t do.

  I went to my suitcase and pulled out my camera. I was glad I had enough wits about me despite my anger and flurry of tears to pack it. This island was the perfect place to experiment with taking pictures again. I had connected with some galleries back in college; maybe if I took some pictures and did some editing, I could send them off. I might get lucky and even have people buy some.

  I checked my hair and make up quick to make sure I didn’t look like I’d been crying. I slipped out of my dress and put on some running shorts and a tank top so it would be easy to move around. The rain had stopped, so I slipped on my Keen sandals, grabbed my room key and camera, and headed out.

  Right outside of my door, I found some flowers to photograph. After getting a few shots, I explored the resort some more. I must have moved from one end of the place to the other, capturing shots of the flowers and other plants. I snapped a few pictures of the wild life that scurried around near the walkways. I got some shots of couples snuggling and snuck a few of a couple fighting.


  I was on the move all day, not really stopping until the rumbling of my stomach interrupted a shot I was trying to get of some geckos near a fountain. I checked the time on the camera, shocked to discover it was already almost 7:30. I had missed lunch and dinner; no wonder I was so hungry. I walked to the main dining hall but decided to pass when I saw all the people dressed up for dinner. I would look so out of place in my shorts and tank top.

  I walked down to the beach where there was a little bar and grill. They had a buffet of food all night with a much more casual atmosphere. It would be the perfect place to grab a drink, a bite to eat, and wait for the sun to set. I was dying to get some sunset pictures tonight.

  When I got there, I couldn’t help but notice the guy behind the bar. Unlike so many of the other employees from the resort, he wasn’t a local. He was Caucasian and I wondered if he was from the States. He was tall and had broad shoulders. His skin was sun-kissed and it was obvious he spent most of his time in the sun. The white tank he was wearing helped to accentuate his tan and piercing green eyes. He was leaning over, talking to one of the guests at the bar and when he chuckled at something they said, I couldn’t help but smile. He had the kind of laugh that was infectious.

  Tribal tattoos covered his ripped arms and the top of another tattoo peeked out from the edge of his tank top. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. I had always thought tattoos on men were so hot but Patrick wouldn’t even entertain the idea of getting one. I mentioned getting something that commemorated my mom and he acted disgusted, wondering why I wanted to ‘defile’ my body that way.

  The bartender turned and caught me looking at him. He grinned at me, making me blush, and I quickly walked over to the buffet with my head down. I was mortified he caught me looking at him. Maybe the main dining room would have been a better idea.

  I didn’t turn around to check, but I felt like he was still watching me as I got my food. It was probably just my imagination. I finished going through the buffet and looked around to find an empty table. I was less than thrilled that the only vacant one was right near the bar. I headed towards it, willing myself to not look over at him.

  I sat down and started to eat, turning on my camera and scrolling through the shots I’d taken that day. Soon I was lost in my pictures; I’d really gotten some great ones. I couldn’t help but smile; it felt so good to get back to doing something that made me happy.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I looked up when I heard the deep voice and almost dropped my camera with him towering over me.

  “Um, the drink of the day please?” I managed to spit out.

  “Coming right up,” he said with a wink before going back behind the bar.

  I sat there with my mouth open a little. That was weird. Since when did bartenders come take orders at tables? Maybe it was different here. I shook it off and went back to looking at my pictures, studying one I’d gotten of one couple kissing on the beach.

  “That’s a really good shot,” he said, setting my drink on the table in front of me. What the fuck? He snuck up on me again. What was he, a ninja?

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Anytime.” He gave me a panty-dropping smile and went back to his post at the bar.

  A rowdy group of guys came in, swearing and knocking over a few chairs. It was probably a group of college guys here to get drunk and get laid. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them as they came by my table on their way to the bar. A few of them leered at me and said hi. I muttered a greeting back, but for the most part pretended they weren’t there.

  Until one sat down at my table.

  Ironically, he reminded me of Patrick with the same slicked back brown hair and brown eyes. He was probably just as full of shit as Patrick was. He was wearing a golf shirt and khaki shorts. I couldn’t see his feet, but I bet white golf shoes completed the outfit. I spent my whole life with jackasses like him and knew them all too well.

  “Hey there, baby,” he slurred.

  “Hi,” I said. It was time to get out of here and go to the beach for some sunset shots. I turned off my camera and started to stand up. He stopped me, grabbing my arm.

  “Let go of me,” I snapped at him, pulling my arm away from his tight grip.

  “Don’t go.” He sat back in his chair. “My friends and I are looking for some fun and you look like you might be it.”

  I wanted to cover my body with my hands as his eyes raked over me, stopping at my breasts. “I don’t think so,” I said with a shake of my head. Before he could touch me again, I grabbed my camera and left.

  “You don’t have to be such a bitch,” he called after me.

  I laughed to myself. What an asshole.Even in paradise I couldn’t get away from them.

  I quickly forgot about him when I turned the corner and arrived at the beach. The sight was breath taking and I arrived at the perfect moment. The sun was just at the horizon and the sky was full of every color of the rainbow. There were only a few clouds in the sky. The whole scene was perfect.

  I turned on my camera and was about to take some pictures when I noticed all of the couples walking hand in hand on the beach. I felt a pang of sadness. There was a time I did love Patrick and it made me a little sad we weren’t here on our honeymoon, enjoying the sunset like the other couples.

  Images of his naked ass fucking that bitch flashed in my mind and those feelings of sadness were quickly replaced with ones of anger. I pushed all thoughts of the asshole out of my mind and took pictures until the sun disappeared.

  When the sun was finally gone on the horizon, I smiled and sighed, happy with what I had done today. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and download these to my Mac. I started down the path that led to my villa on the other end of the resort when he stepped out in front of me with all of his asshole friends behind him.

  “Where are you going all alone?” He asked, coming up to me. I could smell the alcohol on him, even from a few feet away. The bile rose in my throat.

  “None of your business,” I said and clutched my camera to me.

  He threw his head back and laughed before he turned back to his friends and handed one of them his drink. He walked towards me, making me walk backwards until he had me pinned against the fence nearby.

  “We’re going back to my room to party. You should join us,” he mumbled, trying to look down my tank top. Oh my God, how was I going to get myself out of this mess?

  “No thanks,” I said firmly, sounding braver than I felt.

  “Well,” he ran a finger across my chest. “It’s not really a request.” He took my wrist and gripped it firmly, causing me to cry out. Fuck, he was a lot stronger than he looked.

  “Let her go.”

  That voice. I knew that voice. It was the hot bartender. Relief flooded over me and I looked defiantly at the asshat holding my wrist, suddenly a lot more confident I was going to get out of this mess.

  “Why the fuck should I?” He spat out, his spittle getting in my face. I couldn’t wait to shower and get his germs and stink off of me.

  “Because she said she didn’t want to go with you,” the bartender replied, coming up next to us. I looked up at him, hoping he could see in my eyes how thankful I was that he was there.

  “Let go of her wrist.” He crossed his arms across his chest and stood firmly in place.

  He let go and I whimpered with relief. I was going to have a bruise there. Fucker.

  “Whatever, asshole,” he said and turned around to leave. He stumbled off, his posse following close behind him.

  We watched until he was out of sight, shaking our heads as we heard him spouting off swear words and no doubt acting like he did us a big favor in letting me go.

  “Thank you,” I said finally.

  “I saw him at your table and he watched you leave,” he shrugged. “When he summoned his friends to leave, I had a bad feeling about where he was going. I wish I had been wrong, but I’ve worked here long enough and have seen assholes like tha
t all too often.”

  “I bet,” I nodded, rubbing my wrist.

  He looked down at it. “Are you going to be ok? Do you want me to take you to the nurse here? She’s really good.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. Nothing some ibuprofen and a beer can’t cure.” I smiled up at him, painfully aware of how close he was. I swore he smelled like a combination of pure manliness and the beach.

  “I can get you some ice and a beer,” he grinned down at me. “Come back with me to the bar.”

  “I’m going back to my room. I need a shower to wash his sliminess off of me. Thanks though.” He sure was trying, but then again, he was probably just being nice because I was a guest and he was on the staff.

  “Yeah, he was a douche.” He rubbed his hand on his closely shaven head and glanced back in the direction the group had disappeared in. “I got his room number at the bar. I’m going to talk to security and management about what happened and get him kicked out. You won’t have to worry about him hassling you again.”

  “I know I sound like a broken record, but thanks. I was beginning to worry I might have to hide out in my room for a while until I was sure he was gone.”

  “How long are you here for?” He asked.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged my shoulders, bracing myself for more questions.

  He nodded. “And you’re alone?”

  “Yes, long story,” I mumbled, averting his gaze; I didn’t want to see any looks of sympathy for being in paradise alone.

  “Well, this is a good place to escape to despite the pricks and all the couples making out constantly,” he chuckled and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. He had a way of making me feel comfortable and safe around him.

  “I better get back to the bar. It’s getting to be our busy time,” he said, turning to look in the direction of the bar. “I’m going to get a shuttle out here for you. There’s no way you’re walking back by yourself.” He pulled out his cell and sent someone a text. No sooner was he done and a golf cart pulled up.