Okay, so this has been a very slow write since real life impacted me in the worst way, but I'm working on chapter 20 already, so here is the expansion of a one-shot that I could not let go. Hope you like vacations and romance and Mexico. That's all I can say for now.
Thank you to Ipsita, Nic, Vampyregirl86 and SarcasticBimbo for all your help, keeping me on track and fixing my mistakes.
Chapter 2
"So you thought you'd just turn up?"
Edward's eyes roam across the horizon, and then he smirks when they rake over me. I shake my head at him being here. He's rougher than I remember, and the five o'clock shadow suits him, emphasizing the line of his jaw.
"Yeah, why not? I made some time. I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."
"I would never have guessed you'd come to Mexico. I thought you were going to prevent me from leaving the country."
"How would I do that? You have quite an imagination, Bella."
"And you have some set of balls arriving like this."
He raises his eyebrows and the smirk is now somewhere between adolescent and he should know better. "I told you I wanted to see you again."
I can't help but snort because he's so sure of himself, he draws out my defiant side. "Actually, you threatened me, Edward, and I didn't know what you meant. The nerves didn't stop until I boarded the bus in Cancun. You couldn't call me?"
He sighs and leans against a pole supporting the roof of my bungalow. "I was in the middle of a crisis on site, working my ass off to get here. I didn't want you alone in a place like this."
"A place like this? You know Tulum well, do you?"
He runs a casual hand through his hair. "I know men."
I don't know why I'm surprised he's already irritating me. He's the same man I met in Montana, after all. "What happens if I tell you I have a friend or lover joining me? Do you have a backup plan?"
"I know you came here on your own."
It dawns on me that I only said was I was going to Mexico, and there is just one person who could have given him the details of this hotel.
"Garrett…you charmed the information out of him, didn't you." He shrugs as if it should be obvious. "That's inappropriate, Edward."
The smirk once again spreads over his lips. "So, you admit I have charms."
I suck in a lungful of air to steady myself. "A minute ago, I thought it was charming you came all this way to see me, but now I'm angry. He's young, he's gay, he's awestruck by male beauty, and you…you…took advantage of him."
His face drops when he realizes I'm not sending him a compliment. Of course he's beautiful, but right now I could punch him.
"Garrett's on a warning as of this minute. I should fire him."
"Don't do that, Bella! He's only looking out for you, and he likes us..." He points his finger back and forth between us. "...together."
This is so not right.
"He sees we're a much better match than you and your ex."
"That wouldn't be hard, since he hated Jake. Any man here would be better than…"
"Like that guy you were just ogling? He's married."
For a second, I consider denying it, but I no longer have to answer to anyone.
"How do you know that? He was swimming on his own."
"They have a baby with them."
I frown at him. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to check out my…opposition." He smiles as if he thinks he's funny.
"You sized up the men here to see if you have competition?"
"I don't want anyone else layin' claim to you."
God, he's a caveman, completely oblivious to how suffocating he is!
With a sigh of frustration, I try to speak calmly. "Well, I don't want anyone telling me who I can ogle, and for your information, I didn't come here to find a man. I want to relax and float in the ocean, see the ruins and the caves, buy clothes I'll never wear back home, eat and drink whatever I want."
"We can do all that. There's a bar on the beach where the sound of shells tinkling in the breeze makes you want to stay forever. One of the stores has white sand on the floor. There's a private tour on Wednesday that takes in the caves and the..."
"Jesus, have you been listening? I don't want anyone managing me! This is my vacation."
He blinks a couple of times as if he's unsure how to respond. He thinks his big surprise is clever but now I see it's all about him and his need to control. He can't just waltz in here on a whim and start running the show. No matter how gorgeous he is, I won't tolerate another man trying to rule me. Never again.
"Well…I guess I had better get moving, then. We're going to lunch."
"We?" I ask.
He comes down the steps without addressing my question, or even looking at me. "You have my number, Bella."
"Where are you staying?" I ask as he passes me on his way to the sand.
"Just up the beach."
He doesn't look back as he heads north, walking in the shallow water before picking up the pace, getting as far away from me as he can. I know I just put a dent in his ego, but he had every opportunity to call and schmooze me a little. He could have at least apologized for the way he carried on when he left me in Montana. There would have been no anxious wait in customs and I probably would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him here, but...
Keep chanting it, Bella. Never again. Never again.
Pulling my ponytail from its band, I shake out my hair and climb the steps to my room, noticing the comfy-looking circular day bed on the deck. The breeze from the ocean is lovely and there are no clouds in the sky.
A swim seems like the perfect way to start my vacation. Unpacking my bag doesn't take long, and I only have three bikinis to choose from. Once my phone, cards, camera and passport are in the safe, I just need to drop off my room key and I'm ready. The hotel's beach towel is huge and soft, another nice luxury. This is going to be fabulous.
Dropping my towel on a sun lounge, I walk down to the water. It's surreal finally being here, taking in the true color of the Caribbean Sea and a beach that goes on forever.
With the tide so low, I have to wade out a long way before I can duck down in the pale blue ocean. It's cool and soothing but now there's no one around to enjoy it with. I blew the opportunity of having company when I offended the only person I know here.
Is everyone else having lunch or starting their siesta?
Suddenly, I flinch when something brushes against my leg. It's probably just seaweed or a fish, but when it happens again, I start seeing shadows and I have to get out. Damn the overactive imagination Edward accused me of.
My feet are caked with sand as I approach my room, but I smile when I see the shallow metal bucket, half-full of water, that greets me at the foot of the stairs. As I hold onto the balustrade and dip my feet in, I notice there's a wooden-handled brush near the door, perfect for dusting off dry feet.
The hotel has already impressed me by providing a flashlight, candles and matches, an umbrella and insect repellant. Now they are doing an outstanding job of dealing with my hatred of sand in the room. To me, these thoughtful touches are more important than having a fancy mini coffee maker that never quite delivers, when there is a barista in our restaurant next door.
The shower is great, too, not at all like I thought a small eco resort would provide. There's enough pressure, if a little low on the heat, but I come out feeling refreshed.
Wearing the long, clingy dress I brought for its versatility, I head to the restaurant and find out they've stopped serving lunch. I'm kicking myself for not asking before I went for the swim. They kindly offer me a plate of fruit, which I take to the room and wonder where Edward is eating. He's probably in some restaurant, stuffed and refusing dessert as we speak.
Who is the we? He hasn't been here long, so he can't have made that many friends, or maybe he has. Now I don't know how I feel about someone else laying claim to him.
My tiny bag is only big enough for a card and some cash. Draping the thin strap across my body, I carry my shoes on the walk up the beach.
The white powder is hot but soft underfoot. I make squeaky noises as my heels dig into the sand. Passing by hotels hidden in the vegetation, some show themselves only by umbrellas, beach chairs, and makeshift bars on the beach. The newer hotels, like mine, declare themselves proudly through their young gardens.
Families relax on lounges while children construct worlds in the sand. Parents stand around in groups with their ankles in the ocean, not really supervising their kids who are learning to socialize. A stray wave surprises everyone, and I smile, thinking the tide must have turned.
I'd love to find out who these people are and what made them choose Tulum for their vacation, but as a single woman, I'm more hesitant than usual, so I keep walking. There are aspects of being part of a couple that I miss, and I've come to terms with the fact that I'm different now.
Hearing a friendly sounding American voice, I search for its owner, and find a young woman ending a phone call. I walk up and smile, asking if she knows where I catch the bus to town. With a puzzled look, she says she's sorry she hasn't been there yet. Her male companion comes in from the water, and she doesn't ask for my name, so I excuse myself, saying I hope to see her again.
I can't help looking into restaurants or stop scanning the beach for any sign of Edward. When I hear the sound of shells clinking against each other, I imagine I've stumbled upon the bar he mentioned. Inside, I find a place of cool tranquility where the music is soft and the blackboard menu is sparse.
"Can I please order something to eat?" I ask the bartender.
"Sorry, food service resumes at five. Would you like a drink?"
I shrug, needing something more substantial than alcohol.
"Where should I go shopping at this time of the day?"
"Depends on what you're after," he answers, starting his dishwasher.
"Clothing to wear while I'm here."
"There are some good shops right here at the beach. Most don't take siesta and many are open until 9:00 pm." I smile and thank him for his help.
At this time of the day, it's quiet and conducive to finding things that appeal. The shop with the white sand floor is a shack called "Mr. Blackbird". Inside they have jewelry displayed on pieces of driftwood and beds of raw rice. Everything they sell is locally made and I'm soon purchasing a silky white cover-up to throw over my bikini.
Another boutique has dresses that transition from beach to eveningwear, and the sales assistant is so helpful, I buy two of them, picking out jewelry to match.
Not having to worry about money is wonderful. The fifty grand should hit my account soon and the invoice from the Masen's Whiskey shoot has already been paid.
When Esme Cullen called and raved over the photos, saying I had exceptional talent, I could have said it didn't take any exceptional talent to capture her son's beauty. I'd never met anyone the camera loved as much as Edward Cullen. Instead, I thanked her for the call, wishing them the best of luck with the campaign.
When I'm happy with my purchases, I have bags from three stores, including a new pair of sandals, and it's been lovely to shop without anyone hurrying me. Unfortunately, there'll be no one to show them off to—just the mirror in my room.
With a long exhale, I think of Edward again, wondering where he is and if I'll run into him. Knowing he's here somewhere makes me lonely, and highlights the fact that I'm still out of sync with this town. I need to be more aware of mealtimes and more proactive if I'm going to meet people, deciding my best option is to book a couple of tours. I'll speak to the man at the desk and then I'll be ready to join Tulum's schedule, on time for dinner.
That's when I see Edward's unique head of hair. He's facing away from me, sitting next to an open window of a restaurant. Seated across from him is a striking blonde woman, talking animatedly and smiling. I think she notices me, standing on the street staring at her, but it's only a quick look before she returns her attention to him.
She leans her head slightly and rubs his arm, nodding and listening intently to what he's saying. The way she comforts him makes me stumble, almost colliding with a girl on a bicycle. Apologizing, I hurry away.
In a lather of sweat, I ask for my key at the desk, flustered by my strong reaction to seeing him with someone else.
I feel ill. A week ago, he lured me into bed with a declaration of honesty, fully aware of my limited experience. The things I let him do to me, the wild passion I felt. Oh God, I actually begged…for more.
I'm just glad I've had time to get him out of my system. From now on, I will be more wary and trust my initial instincts.
My assistant, who put me in this position, answers my call on the second ring.
"Bella! You made it in one piece! How is Meh-hee-co?"
"You've been a naughty boy, Garrett."
"Oooh, have I? Tell me more."
"Just listen. You never give out personal details about me again. That asshole followed me here."
"Are you talking about Edward? He's not an asshole!"
"That's not for you to decide. You're on a warning now, and if it happens again, you're fired. Comprende?"
"Are you speaking Spanish? 'Se entiende' is nicer."
"Maybe I'll put it in writing."
"No, I understand and I apologize, Bella, but he's sooo nice."
"Goodbye, Garrett."
"Adios!" He delivers the word in a shrill voice and I end the call. I know he won't do it again, and this is probably my fault. When I get back, I'll sit him down and explain how a quick phone call can avoid a lot of trouble.
A quick phone call…Why did Edward think it was okay to arrive here like this? It's time I stopped thinking about him.
I lie down on the bed and look up at the canopy of my mosquito net. It's so wide and indulgent; the ceiling fan is on the inside. With the remote control, I turn it on and feel the glorious breeze sweep over me, but I can't stay where I am, fearing I'll fall asleep and miss another meal.
Changing into one of my new dresses, I hit the desk to get the lowdown on the most popular tours but, of course, my choices are either already full or not operating on Sunday. The man finds me a spot on the cenote trip on Monday and I decide to visit the Tulum Ruins myself in the morning.
It's right on sunset as I sit at the bar, watching families entertain their children while they wait for their food. I'm having trouble deciding as I study the menu. If I could order a little bit of everything, I would.
A couple approaches me and introduce themselves. They've come all the way from Istanbul in Turkey, spending three days here on their honeymoon. He seems very sweet until he starts to annoy me, speaking on behalf of his wife, who's English I find perfectly acceptable. He asks if I'd like to join them but I decline, saying they don't want me crowding in on their romantic dinner.
An older man comes to the bar and I only glance at him before going back to the menu, taking a seat at a table once I decide to try the octopus. The restaurant has filled while I was chatting, and now I can't refuse the same man when he asks if he can share my table.
Over a delicious meal, I discover he's one of those people who goes on a little too long about one subject. He also keeps asking me questions about Tulum and Cancun when I've told him this is the first day of my first visit here. Finally giving up, he describes his work as a tax consultant, detailing the shrewd investments that paid for his vacation. When I tell him I'm sorry but I have to meet someone, he hands me a business card, saying it's always good to have a friend when it comes to tax time.
Right.
I'd like another drink but I can't stay at my own bar now, so I wander outside in search of somewhere else. There are crowds of people out here, drinking and relaxing on the beach. It looks pretty in the night, lit from hotels and bars.
I'm drawn into a bar and restaurant by their band. They create a wonderful sound with just a guitar, an instrument that looks like a cross between a giant guitar and a cello, bongos, and a drummer who plays every part of his kit, even the metal sides and bell attachments.
As I stand at the bar, I notice couples off to the side on a small dance floor. They're so well practiced and impressive, it's like watching a dancing competition. I can't help moving to the beat of the music, but I would die if one of those men asked me to dance, so I take my mojito to a chair on the sand where I can enjoy the band in peace.
That's when I see Edward walk in with her, with her arm through his, and my first instinct is to hide. They approach the bar, obviously enjoying the music, and right behind them is… Fantastic. The brother. Mister sunshine and rainbows is here, too. Emmett Cullen's appearance spells the end of any further contact I'll have with Edward, who has everything he could want now—family to vacation with and a new girl who is all smiles for him.
When they point in the direction of where I'm sitting, my pulse starts to race and I know I won't handle the embarrassment, so I leave the drink and return to the safety of my room. I didn't sleep on the flight last night after the delay in San Francisco. We were late arriving in Cancun this morning where the men in uniform scared me half to death. My emotions have been all over the place since I found out Edward was here and… shit… I just need to sleep and start over tomorrow.
When someone whistles at me as I walk down the beach, I can't get back to the hotel fast enough. The nice man at the counter asks me if I'm okay when he hands me my key. At the door to my room, it takes me too long to get all the sand off my feet and I grumble to myself, questioning why I came here on my own. It's not until I've had a shower and encased myself in the cocoon of my huge mosquito net that I finally find rest. At least the bed is as good as it gets.
Sunday morning's dawn is quiet and cooler. A fog hangs in the air and I take my camera to capture the beach, enjoying the sound of birds and waves hitting the sand. It must have rained last night from the look of everything, not that I'd know since I lapsed into a coma. Now would be a perfect time for a swim, but I should have breakfast and leave for the ruins. They open at eight and I'm determined to be there before the crowds descend.
I order an omelet, which comes out stuffed with black beans, tomatoes, red onions, avocado and some sort of white crumbly cheese. When I realize how hot they are, I push the accompanying peppers to the side. However, it's delicious and filling and they bring me out a Buñuelo with my coffee, a little piece of cinnamon-coated-donut-heaven.
Taking an apple and two bottles of water for the trip, the hotel has given me a discount coupon for a bike rental place up the road. It's not far to walk, so I set off along the beach to take some more photos. It really is a glorious morning and I love the shadows cast at this time of the day.
That's when I see them… again… through the lens this time and I make sure I get the evidence I need. The woman splashes Edward in the face, and he doesn't see it coming, surprised and kind of pissed off. He charges at her and she screams as he picks her up and throws her in the air, landing her on her butt in the ocean. She comes at him and he races out of the water up the beach to a lounge, laughing as he grabs his keys and towel. He takes off into their hotel but she doesn't follow, merely shaking her head and smiling as she picks up her towel.
Dropping the camera from my eyes, I wonder what sort of woman she is to be so easy and carefree with him already. They're like the best of friends, rather than a brand new couple who've just hooked up. The Edward I know wouldn't waste any time getting a woman into bed, so she'll be feeling dreamy and satisfied after that experience.
I reach the bike rental place and I'm shaking. Then the ride to the ruins is frustrating, having to dodge people crossing the road, and stopping several times to tend to a wobbly seat. I nearly fall off the damn bike when a man decides to step out in front of me. Having done this exact thing to someone yesterday, I can't be too angry, especially when I see the cars turning into the parking lot and realize I can take the bike in closer to the entrance.
Unfortunately, the line to enter the ruins is getting longer by the second.
All I wanted was to get a few shots without throngs of tourists in the way and I've missed that mark, too. It's like Tulum has got it in for me.
With my hat and sunglasses on, I join the line, waiting to see how many people turn up. A coach pulls in and empties itself of its wonder-struck passengers, and they usher them straight through. Someone at the front calls to her friends to say there's a half-hour wait for the guided tour. They join her and start insulting the poor person selling tickets.
Then a woman aggressively calls out, "How long does it take to make up your mind?" The man in front of me turns around and rolls his eyes.
"It's not our fault, lady," one of them screeches back, making the situation tense.
When the next coach arrives, I know I've made another mistake. I didn't come to Mexico to stand in line and watch people argue. This day can still be salvaged, though, when it started out so beautifully. If I had taken that early swim, and stayed at the hotel to chill out, everything would have been perfect. At the moment, it feels like I'm trying to do everything the wrong way. I'll book a tour to do this another day.
On the ride back, I stop in at the Kore Tulum Retreat and pick up a brochure for their yoga classes. Returning the bike, I state the problem with the seat makes it dangerous and I demand a full refund. Something about me must say I mean business because they don't argue, giving me back my money.
With my composure returned, I stroll along the road to my hotel, checking out a few menus on the way, ready for a cup of coffee and another one of those delicious Buñuelos.
The sight of Edward, Emmett, and the woman having coffee in my restaurant destroys my new feeling of contentment. Instead of striding in and telling Edward this is going too far, I decide to turn and walk away.
"Bella!" he yells, coming out to stop me. "I've given you a whole day and you haven't called. Are you still mad at me?"
With his pained expression, he actually looks sorry and I don't know what the hell is going on here. This could turn ugly if I say what's in my head right now. A swift kick to his balls might do the trick, though.
"Who is the woman with you, Edward?"
"That's Rose. Please come and join us." He's so excited, I could slap him.
Trying to keep my cool in a very strange situation, I ask, "Who is Rose?"
"She's my sister-in-law, Emmett's wife."
Thanks for reading xo
