Stealing Phin (2 page)

Although most girls were jealous of Dez for her looks, I wasn’t one of them. I’d never be able to deal with all the pressure and attention that came with sex appeal like hers. Not that I was Quasimoto or anything. People often described me as “the girl next door” type. I never really understood exactly what that meant. Maybe it was because I played sports in school. Or maybe it was that my style and attitude were more on the casual, down-to-earth side. In the end, I figured that from a guy’s perspective, it meant if a decent-looking girl with chestnut brown hair and eyes was your neighbor, you’d invite her over for barbeques. But if a honey-blond bombshell with legs that never ended moved in next door, it might redefine the term “Neighborhood Watch.”

My lack-of-bombshell nature was one of the reasons I’d always felt lucky to land a guy like Douglas. He was so handsome, he could have any girl he wanted, yet he chose me. I found myself wondering a lot during our relationship what exactly he thought was special about me. Sadly, I couldn’t come up with much. Maybe that was why things ended the way they did.

After I got some Costa Rican colones from the currency exchange, I found a seat some ten or so yards from where Dez was working The Hottie and tried my hardest not to think of Douglas.

But it was impossible.

Even the fact that I was in Costa Rica had become about him. The only reason I came on this trip was to try to forget about Douglas. Everything about Chicago reminded me of him. I couldn’t walk down a street without passing some restaurant, bar, or park that I associated with a moment I shared with him. The city was the backdrop of our entire relationship. If I was going to get over him, I was going to need a drastic change of scenery.

But now that I was several countries away from him, I realized the distance between us was only geography. He was still very much with me.

Did I really think the solution would be as simple as exercising my passport? Who was I kidding?

Douglas had been the focal point of my life ever since I began working at Schiller, Moore, & Kirkwood, LLP a year ago. He was a partner in the real estate group—the youngest to make partner in the firm’s history. He was everything I’d wanted in a man—smart, ambitious, handsome, and charming. The very first time I met him, I knew I was in danger of falling in love with him…and, oh was I right. I fell fast, and I fell hard.

“Rule number two, rule number two, rule number two,” I murmured to myself as I felt the threat of the tears I’d promised not to shed sting my eyes.

Desperately searching for a distraction and failing to find anything or anyone suitable for the job in this tired looking terminal, my eyes landed back on The Hottie.

“The best way to fill your heart,” I said, quoting Dez, “is to feast with your eyes.”

Ever the multi-tasker, I decided to distract myself by putting on my friend-hat and doing what girlfriends do best for each other—evaluate the men in their lives.

Dez’s back was to me while she chatted up The Hottie, which meant he was facing me—a strategy we’d come up with in college. I had clear view to give The Hottie the thrice over and quickly come up with a thumbnail analysis. And I’m proud to say that ninety-nine percent of the time, I managed to peg a guy on the first try.

It only took me three seconds to take stock of this guy’s assets.

Body: Well-toned arms and shoulders, broad chest, square jaw. Probably a former frat boy jock from a Big Ten school. Vanity motivated him to maintain his physique through a regular gym and protein shake regimen.

Clothes: Gray t-shirt and designer jeans that probably cost more than a month’s rent for my shabby one-bedroom apartment. The guy clearly valued quality, but not at the cost of comfort.

Hair: Tall forehead crowned by thick brown hair with natural touches of gold highlights, slightly longer on top and styled skillfully with restrained use of expensive hair wax into an effortless-looking tousle. He’s intelligent and probably used his smarts to make good money, which he then used to indulge in the finer things in life.

Eyes…hm. That’s funny. Usually, I could tell the most about a guy’s character by his eyes. Granted, this guy’s eyes were beautiful—a hazel composed of a unique blend of brown, gold, and green I’d never seen before. I had a weakness for hazel eyes. I loved the way they shifted colors in different lights.

But his eyes wouldn’t speak to me. I searched them for a few more moments, but they stubbornly refused to reveal their owner’s secrets. And then I became aware that they were returning my stare. Even worse, as his eyes traveled the length of me, I realized he seemed to be engaging in an analysis of his own—of
me
.

I quickly averted my eyes, but it was too late. Moments later, he ended his conversation with Dez with a handshake. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he headed toward a shuttle that said Hertz on the side. He must be renting a car like we were. I could’ve sworn I saw him eyeball me again right before he exited the airport…carrying a large black duffle bag and
no
suitcase
, I noted wryly.

“Well?” I asked as Dez approached.

“Waste of time.” She rolled her pink suitcase next to mine and plopped onto a seat with a slightly annoyed air. Her cheeks were almost as pink as her suitcase—a sign that she was flustered.

“Jerk-off?” I asked.

“No, worse—gay. Should’ve known. The hot ones always are.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a shame. And such a waste of a perfect ass.” She pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail. “God, it’s so hot in this country! Can we get going already? I need to be somewhere with better air conditioning.”

Dez had a simple policy when it came to men: keep it in the present tense.
As
soon
as
you
start
thinking
about
a
man
in
the
past
or
future
tense,
she’d always told me,
you’re
asking
to
get
hurt
.

Consequently, Dez was never one to dwell on any man for any reason, good or bad, and I could tell she had already moved on from this one.

Unfortunately, for some unexplainable reason, I couldn’t quite say the same for me.

“What makes you think he’s gay?” I prodded, as we headed toward the Adobe car rental shuttle that pulled up outside the terminal. That a man was gay was the conclusion Dez automatically came to about any man who could resist her sex appeal. Considering how hot she was, it actually made for a pretty accurate gay-dar. But I wasn’t one-hundred percent convinced, and I was curious to learn what else her conversation with The Hottie revealed.

“He said he came here to look for flowers.” Dez gave her suitcase to the shuttle driver who put it into the back.

“Flowers?” I wiped the sweat from my forehead. This climate was going to take some getting used to.

“Exactly,” Dez rolled her eyes. “Mentioned one specifically. It had a funny name. Gwar-something.”

“Guaria morada.” My heart skipped a beat as I hopped into the shuttle after Dez and buckled my seat belt.

“Yeah—how did you know?”

“It’s the national flower of Costa Rica. A really rare orchid. It also happens to be my favorite flower.”

“Huh.” Dez shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe if we run into him again, he can dust the pollen off
your
flower.” My friend gave me a salacious wink. Good old Dez. If her mind wasn’t in the gutter at any given moment, you could bet it’d be there in the next.

“It hasn’t been
that
long since I last had sex.”

Three
months,
eight
days,
and
twenty-one
hours.
But
who’s
counting?
I thought bitterly.

I hadn’t told Dez exactly how long it’d been since Douglas last made love to me. For one thing, Dez considered three
weeks
a slump. If I told her about my three-month-long dry spell, she’d probably usher me to the OBGYN to make sure my parts hadn’t shriveled up and fallen off from disuse.

Even worse, though, would be hearing her say what I already knew—that I should’ve seen Douglas’s infidelity coming.

That saying about love being blind is right. But whoever made up that quote should’ve also added a part about love making
you
blind. And while they’re at it, they should do you a favor and drop a clue about the painful process of regaining your sight after being blindsided by love. After it happened to me, I was sure the world would never look the same to me again.

I used to be a believer in love—real love. That white knight, fairy-tale, til-the-end-of-time kind of love. But that was before yesterday, when I got sucker punched by the only thing I’d ever really believed in.

Now, I didn’t know what to believe in.

Not wanting Dez to notice I was breaking Rule Number One and on the verge of breaking Rule Number Two, I stared out the window of the shuttle and pretended to soak up the scenery that zoomed by.

“Besides,” I added, “I thought you said he was gay.”

Dez laughed. “Hey, whether it be a sexy Costa Rican or a flower-loving gay man, we’re not leaving this jungle until some Tarzan has you swinging from the vines, my friend.”

“Bienvenida, mis amigas!” A young man greeted us as we checked in at the first resort on our itinerary. “Welcome to Volcano Villas. My name is Roberto.”

“Please tell me there’s central air here.” Dez’s face was red from the ninety-five-degree heat. The hundred-percent humidity wasn’t exactly doing much in the way of keeping my naturally curly hair in check either.

Roberto smiled widely. “Yes, of course. Each villa has its own air conditioning.” His English was good and his accent pleasant to the ear. “Where are you from?”

“Chicago,” I said. “It was about fifty degrees when we left there early this morning.”

“Ah, yes.” Roberto nodded as he activated our key cards. “I know about Chicago. Very windy, si?”

I smiled at him. “Si.” The people here seemed so friendly.

After he took a credit card number to hold for incidentals, Roberto slid several sheets of paper across the desk toward me. “Here, we have a menu of our spa services. We offer massages, body scrubs, facials—all muy bueno. Your stress and tension will be no more.”

“That sounds fantastic,” I rubbed my neck, which was stiff from the flight.

“And here,” Roberto pointed to another sheet, “is a list of popular tours.”

“God, there’s so many to choose from,” I said, scanning the long list.

My brain hurt from all the thinking about Douglas I’d done during the three-hour drive from the airport to La Fortuna while Dez dozed off in the passenger seat. In that time, I’d managed to go our entire relationship moment-by-moment—every high and every low—trying to figure out where it’d gone wrong.

When I couldn’t pinpoint anything, I began picking myself apart to figure out what about me wasn’t good enough—a damaging exercise I’d highly advise against.

I shook my head and tried to focus on the list of tours again. As I skimmed the short blurbs of each tour, none of them got me excited. Fun seemed like such a foreign concept to me as I wallowed in the deep ocean of my self-pity. I already knew whatever fun I had on this vacation would have to be faked for Dez’s sake. My head and heart were too full of other things right now—there just wasn’t any room for fun.

“Do you recommend any in particular?” I asked once I got halfway through the list and realized I hadn’t really processed anything that I’d read.

“Yes, of course,” Roberto said, sliding his finger down the page. “Most people come to hike the famous volcano nearby at Arenal. You can hire a tour guide or hike it yourself. Canyoneering, however, is our most popular tour. I suggest you book that one soon. The spaces fill up very fast.”

“All right,” I said decisively. “Put us down for tomorrow morning for the canyoneering thing, and charge it to the room.” I rubbed again at my neck, which seemed to have gotten worse during the long drive. “And I’m going to get the Natural Elements massage. First available appointment.” I was desperate to get my mind off Douglas. If I kept busy, maybe I’d have less energy to think about him.

“Excellent choices, mi amiga.” Roberto typed our tour reservation into his computer.

“Can we hurry this up?” Dez fanned herself vigorously with a brochure she’d picked up from the counter. “We need to vamos, so I can get out of these clothes and get a few piña coladas in me.”

Roberto smiled. “You are in luck, señorita. Happy hour just started at the pool bar. And since you are so beautiful, and thirsty, I give you two vouchers for complimentary drinks.”

“Thank God.” Visibly relieved, Dez looked as if she wanted to kiss him. “Now you’re speaking my language, Roberto!”