Honeymoon Hazards by Ben Boswell Read Free Book Online

picked up the binoculars and zoomed in on her. She was wearing her white bikini, the one that became a little see-through when it got wet. She was clutching at a fruity drink.
    I waved at her. “Hey babe. You’re starting early.”
    She gave me a puzzled look and glanced down at her drink. “It’s just a smoothie. So, you feeling better?”
    “I’m getting there.”
    “Going to join me?
    “I think I should take it easy just a little longer.”
    She sighed. “Sitting by the pool is not exactly competing in a triathlon.”
    “I know,” I replied. I wondered if Trent was a triathlete. He certainly had the physique. “Maybe I’ll just stay here through lunch, then if that goes well…”
    “Now, I know you’re just trying to avoid me. Or maybe you do just like the idea of me out here fending off advances from other men…”
    I knew she was kidding, but I still felt the need to reply.
    “No, of course not. You know, I –“
    “Oops, gotta go,” she said suddenly, cutting me off.
    She fumbled with her phone and dropped it into her beach bag.
    “Well, good morning, Claire, my darling,” came a muffled, but unmistakably debonair British voice.
    I zoomed out to see Trent approach and sit on the lounger beside her.
    “And a good morning to you, Trent,” she answered.
    I laughed to myself and spoke into the phone, “Um honey, you forgot to hang up.”
    “A little morning pick-me-up?” he said, gesturing to her drink.
    She giggled. “I’m still on Seattle time. Afternoon there.”
    Why had she let him believe she was drinking a cocktail?
    “Claire? Honey,” I said more loudly into the phone, though neither one seemed to notice my disembodied voice coming from her bag.
    “Oh, well, I’ve never believed that the whole no drinking before noon thing applied on holiday.” He paused. “Or any day really.”
    She giggled again. She didn’t usually giggle. She lowered her chin and looked at him over her sunglasses. “I do need to take it easy. Last time I started drinking before noon… well, let’s just say it wasn’t the kind of story you want your parents to hear about.”
    “Claire? Can you hear me?” I was about shouting into the phone. But still no reaction from either of them. Yet I could hear them clearly. The only way this could be happening is if she’d put me on speaker and then turned down the volume. But she would have had to do that on purpose…
    Trent gave an amused chuckle. “Surely it wasn’t as bad as all that.”
    She rolled her eyes at him. “Spring break brings out the worst in people.”
    “Well, surely you can’t leave it at that. That’s quite a tease.”
    “I dunno,” she replied. “I barely know you.”
    “That’s the beauty of it. Who else could you tell this story to but a virtual stranger?”
    She nodded and gave him a mock toast with her smoothie. “It was years ago, you understand.”
    “Uh oh. How long ago? Do I need to consult with my solicitor before hearing it?”
    She laughed. “No, I was nineteen, but you may need to confess to your priest afterwards.”
    “No, no. Good old Henry had no more respect for the confession than he did the sanctity of marriage. So you may proceed in good conscience.”
    “This is silly, you don’t want to hear the silly drunken adventures of a nineteen-year-old girl.”
    “ Au contraire . There is nothing I would rather hear.”
    She laughed. “If you didn’t have that accent, that would have come of wildly creepy.”
    “Yes, but it is a double-edged sword. For every dicey utterance I get away with, I have an encounter with one of your compatriots who finds my voice so supercilious as to justify threats of violence.”
    “I don’t believe it. Everyone loves James Bond.”
    “They love the Scottish one,” he replied in a Sean Connery burr. “Americans think anyone with a posh accent is a pansy. But I can tell you about my adventures in American pubs later. You were telling a story.”
    “Well, I was actually skinny