Coast to Coast

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Chapter 2

Abe

“I’ll have a vodka on the rocks,” I said, my eyes roaming up and down the voluptuous body standing next to my seat. I never passed up an opportunity to ogle a set of DDs. I smiled while the stewardess mixed my drink on her little cart, throwing her a suggestive wink when she handed it to me. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes before continuing down the aisle. I took a sip of my drink and chuckled to myself.

Yeah, okay.

She was probably close to forty, but she was hot. A hot chick is a hot chick, regardless of age. And I was a shameless flirt to any woman I deemed fuckable.

What were the odds of finding a single woman under fifty in an RV park?

Very fucking slim.

How the hell was I gonna get through six weeks without sex? I’d had every intention of sinking myself inside Emily every night. That ginger was all tits and ass. And now she’d been replaced with Craig’s weird little sister.

Fuck me.

Craig’s whiny, annoying girlfriend was bad enough. That chick did not belong in the Canadian wilderness.

Oh well. You do what you gotta do. The ten grand would come in handy, not to mention the boost to my resume. And I was looking forward to hanging out with my best friend and doing some cool shit.

I downed the remainder of my vodka, the liquor leaving a pleasant burn in my throat while I gazed out the window.

The plane soared over the Nevada desert, heading north to Canada. I’d never been outside the United States. Hopefully, Canada wasn’t too cold.

I wasn’t one of those foolish Americans who believed Canada was covered in snow and ice, with everyone living in igloos. But still. It was fucking Canada.

When I landed in Vancouver, my travel companions would be waiting for me. They flew out from the east coast the night before and stayed in a hotel. Then we had to drive our rental to Honeymoon Bay, where someone from corporate would meet us with the RV.




I grabbed my suitcase from the carousel and headed toward the exit where Craig said he was waiting. I texted him as soon as I landed.

Fucking old people and stupid women with strollers. Neither of which belonged in the airport. I muttered under my breath as I weaved through the throngs of people.

When I passed through the sliding glass doors, a blast of hot air delivered my first lesson on Canadian summers. They were no fucking different from ours. I spotted the red Chevy Tahoe sitting at the curb and headed toward it, pulling my suitcase behind me.

“Over here, Abe,” Craig called out, appearing from the driver’s side of the vehicle. He opened the hatch when I approached.

“Holy.” The back of the SUV was loaded with luggage. “Do you have any room left?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing as he rearranged the suitcases and cleared a spot for mine. “Julie doesn’t travel light.”

“She’s aware she’s going camping, right? Not attending parties and charity balls every night?”

“I heard that!” she yelled from the front seat, her whiny voice piercing my eardrums.

Fuck me. It was gonna be a long six weeks.

“Julie can’t sit in the back,” Craig said, slamming the door shut. “She gets car sick. So, you either have to drive, or sit in the back with Cheyenne.”

“I had a couple stiff drinks on the plane, so you better drive.”

“No problem.”

As soon as I climbed into the backseat, I knew there would be a lot of cold showers in my near future. Craig’s little sister was not how I remembered her.

Not at all.

Cheyenne Carson was all grown up. And she was hot. Fucking hot. And totally off-limits.

“Hi, Abraham,” she said, her soft, smooth voice like melting butter in a warm pan.

“Wow. How long has it been?” I licked my lips as my eyes took in her gorgeous face.

Long blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, luscious pink lips. My eyes travelled down her long, lithe body, pausing briefly at her chest. Plump, round breasts filled out her pink tank top, with just enough cleavage to give me a glimpse of the supple, creamy flesh underneath.

And her legs.

Holy fuck.

Tanned, muscular, and they went on for miles. I wondered how tall she was. It was hard to tell when she was sitting down.

“Seven years,” she replied with a shy smile as she caught me checking her out.

“You grew up,” I said, picking my jaw up off the floor. And out. In all the right places. “So, what are you up to these days?”

Her face fell. “I’m kind of in between things right now. I just finished culinary school, and I’m hoping to find a job as a pastry chef.”

A conversation with Craig filtered into my brain. Cheyenne just got out of a two-year relationship. The guy proposed. Instead of accepting, she dumped the dude. I didn’t pay too much attention at the time, because I had no idea Cheyenne Carson was hot and totally fuckable.

I was pretty sure my best friend wouldn’t approve of me hitting on his little sister, but fuck. It would be damn near impossible to stop myself with that sexy little honey underfoot for six weeks.

“What are your plans now that you’re done school?” She glanced over at me, a knowing smirk sliding across those sexy lips.

Oh boy. She knew I was mentally drooling over her. And she was enjoying the attention.

“I accepted a position at an advertising firm in New York City. I start the week after we get back.”

“Wow. Congratulations. You must be very excited.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

She laughed softly before turning to stare out the window.

“How far is it to Honeymoon Bay?” I asked, leaning forward between the seats.

“Three-and-a-half hours,” Craig replied. “Could be longer, depending on the ferry.”

“Ferry?” Julie asked.

“Yes,” Craig said with a brisk chuckle. “We have to get over to Vancouver Island somehow.”

“I didn’t know that. I can’t go on boats. I get seasick.” She glared at Craig. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You have a copy of the itinerary.” He shook his head, concentrating on the heavy traffic as we exited the airport. “It’s a massive boat. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

I leaned back in my seat. Cheyenne glanced over at me, rolling her eyes at the same time I rolled mine. A soft giggle erupted from her throat.

I laughed. Hard. So hard I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

She threw her head back with a loud roar that sounded like it came from a three hundred pound man, not a tiny girl. Actually, a tiny woman. Cheyenne was definitely a woman.

“What’s so funny back there?” Julie asked, turning in her seat to peer at us with her beady little green eyes.

Tears poured down Cheyenne’s face while she continued to laugh uncontrollably. I wasn’t even sure what we were laughing at anymore. Definitely Julie. And I guess the fact that we rolled our eyes at the same time.

Then Cheyenne got the hiccups. Loud hiccups that made her sound like a seal barking.

“Have a drink, Cheyenne,” Craig said.

“Here.” I handed her my bottle of water. She accepted it, gulping back a large drink.

“Thanks,” she said, handing the bottle back to me.

“No problem.”

I took a swig from the bottle without tearing my eyes away from her. It tasted like strawberry Chapstick. I ran my tongue around the rim of the bottle, collecting every last taste of her before smacking my lips. Then I winked at her.

Her eyes widened, her face turning a deep shade of scarlet. She turned away to look out the window again, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

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