Sunsets at Seaside(4)By: Addison Cole
Jamie wondered who her friend was. “We had some trouble with teenagers two summers ago, but other than that, your friend was right. There are no derelicts lurking about.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t think my coworker would lead me astray. I guess I’ll go get my key.”
She turned to leave and—holy cow—her bikini bottom was a thong. A thin piece of floss between two perfect butt cheeks. How had he missed that?
It was all he could do not to drool. “Nice suit,” he mumbled.
She looked over her shoulder. “Thanks! I saw the Thong Thursday flyer and thought, why not? I bought this suit when we were overseas and wore it there once. I brought it with me, but I never would have had the guts to wear it here, until I saw that you guys had an actual day for one.” She waved and disappeared up the steps to her apartment.
Jamie spun around and scanned the bulletin board where the pool rules were posted. A blue flyer had been tacked front and center: JOIN US FOR THONG THURSDAY!
Thank you, Bella.
Jamie jogged up to Bella’s cottage. The screen door was open.
“Bella?” Bella Abbascia owned the cottage across from the apartment Jessica was renting. Bella was the resident prankster. Her favorite person to play tricks on was Theresa Ottoline, the Seaside property manager. Theresa oversaw the homeowner association guidelines for the community—including the pool rules, which included a rule that clearly stated, No thongs on women or Speedos on men.
Her fiancé, Caden Grant, walked out of the bedroom in his police officer uniform. “Hey, Jamie. Come on in.”
Jamie stepped inside. “Hi. I wanted to thank your fiancée for Thong Thursday.”
Caden shook his head. “She did it, huh?”
“Yes, she did it, and…” Jamie looked out the window at the big house where Jessica was renting. The house was owned by Theresa. The apartment Jessica rented had a separate entrance on the second floor.
“Did you see the new tenant? Jessica Ayers?” He whistled. “Hotter than lava.”
“I saw her sitting on her deck the other night when I pulled in, but I haven’t met her. Bella’s over at Amy’s with the girls.”
Evan, Caden’s mini-me teenage son, walked out of his bedroom. Evan was almost seventeen, and this year he’d cropped his chestnut hair short, like his father’s. Over the year he’d grown to six two. His square jaw and cleft chin, also like Caden’s, had lost all but the faintest trace of the boy he’d been two years earlier.
“Dude. You went running without me?” Evan, Caden, and their other buddy, Kurt Remington, whose fiancée, Leanna Bray, owned the cottage behind Bella and Caden, sometimes ran with Jamie in the mornings.
“Sorry, Ev. Vera wanted to get a jump on the day, so I went early.”
“That’s okay.” Evan glanced out the window in the kitchen and looked down by the pool, where Jessica was spreading a towel out on a lounge chair. “I was gonna go for a run, but if it’s Thong Thursday, I think I’ll go for a swim instead, then head over to TGG for the afternoon.” Evan had worked with Jamie for one summer, learning how to program computers, and he’d been working part-time at TGG, The Geeky Guys, ever since.
Jamie set a narrow-eyed stare on Evan.
“What?” Evan laughed.
“Behave,” Jamie said, before walking out the door. Now I’m jealous of a kid? He glanced at the pool, tempted to put on his own suit and head down for a gawk and a swim. Instead, he headed across the gravel road to Amy Maples’s cottage.
“Hi, Jamie. Just in time for coffee.” Amy handed him a mug over the railing of her deck.
Jenna Ward, a big-busted brunette, and Bella, a tall, mouthy blonde, followed Amy out of her cottage. They wore sundresses over their bathing suits, their typical Cape attire. The Seaside cottages had been in their families for years, and Jamie had grown up spending summers with the girls and Leanna Bray, who owned the cottage beside Vera’s, and Tony Black, who owned the cottage on the other side of Leanna’s.
“Come on up here, big boy.” Bella waved him onto the deck and pulled out a chair.
“I owe you big-time, Bella.” He sat beside her and placed his coffee on the glass table.