Meant to Marry Me

Dozens of hunky, shirtless guys on the beach, and all Bree could think about was one of them--the one she couldn't have. The night before on the phone, Christy had asked if Matt and Dwayne were still hot. Now, seeing them in swimming trunks with the early light of morning illuminating a thin layer of sweat that dampened every rippling muscle, the answer was a resounding, "Yes!" Hank looked good, too, though it was apparent from his bloodshot eyes that he had gone back to his room to drink a little after he'd dropped her off the night before. Some of the cousins had come to play, too, and a few of them were also pretty good looking, not to mention all of the other random dudes out on the beach jogging, playing frisbee, walking through the surf. Yeah, a few dozen hot, sexy, bare chested men, and she couldn't keep her eyes off of the groom.

Trent did look hot, though. There was no question he was still running every day like he had in high school and probably lifting more than he had back then, too. He'd played baseball and ran track, and his physique had only become more defined over the years. He wasn't bulky like Hank who loved powerlifting and did his best to resemble those California dudes who were always at Muscle Beach. No, Trent's muscles were long and lean and rippling with every subtle movement, and Bree's fingertips itched to run down those abs and find that low V she knew was there if his blue trunks were set just a tiny bit lower.

"I'm in trouble, uh huh. Big trouble," she muttered as she dropped her beach bag by everyone else's and approached Lilly.

"Oh, thank God you're here," her former roommate whispered.

Bree was certain she wasn't late, not by more than a minute or two, but then, if Hank was already there, maybe she'd looked at the time wrong. "What's the matter?"

"Them," Lilly said, tipping the point of her head at Monica and her friends. A few other women their age were with them, too. Bree vaguely remembered having met them at the dinner the other night. "It's like the Sport's Illustrated swimsuit edition threw up all over this beach, and I'm the only one whose legs aren't two miles long."

Bree chuckled nervously. Lilly was right. The other women all looked a lot more like supermodels than either one of them. It wasn't that Bree and Lilly weren't attractive--they just weren't built the same way. The shortest of the girls standing with Monica had to be five foot ten at least with the kind of legs a guy would die to have wrapped around him--all the way around him.

Swallowing hard, Bree said, "It'll be fine. You're cute, Lilly. Besides, aren't you related to most of these guys?"

Lilly rolled her eyes. "No, I have, like, three cousins here. I've had my eye on Matt for a while now, ever since I met him senior year. But... there's no way he could want to be with me after having met Monica." "Please!" Bree said, rolling her eyes. "You're gorgeous. Now, shut your pie hole, and let's not let them intimidate us, okay?"

"Okay." Lilly looked slightly convinced, though not completely. Bree certainly hadn't convinced herself either. She'd been nervous to come here anyway for fear of being around Monica in a bathing suit, having every single one of her imperfections highlighted against the goddess. Now that Lilly had mentioned how striking most of the other girls were, Bree was a little intimidated to take her coverup off. A few of Lilly's cousins, and Trent's as well, didn't have the same traits as the gorgeous couple they were there to celebrate, but that didn't make Bree feel any more confident. When Monica went over to talk to Trent a few seconds later, just as Bree was taking her wrap off and preparing to join the others on the sand, she just knew the bride was talking about her, and it made her want to run back to her room and put some clothes on.

She didn't, though, and it helped her feel a little more confident when Hank shouted, "Damn, Bree! Lookin' good, girl!"

Her face reddened as if she'd been outside without sunscreen for a few hours. "Thanks, Hank." A glance at Monica told her that she was still laughing at her, but Trent wasn't, and that was something. He didn't look particularly happy about whatever it was Monica had said either. At least she hadn't made him start acting like a horrible person. The more time she spent around Monica, the more Bree was beginning to think that's exactly what the bride-to-be was--a horrible person.

They quickly drew teams and got into position to play a game Bree hadn't played since high school, when she was forced to in PE class. But she was determined to have fun and not let Monica intimidate her.

For the most part, Bree just tried to stay out of the way of the ball. She had Hank, Matt, and Dwayne on her team, as well as Lilly, and one of Trent's cousins, a girl named Michelle she'd met a time or two when she'd come to visit him growing up. Sometimes she'd pretend to be going after a ball, but only after she was sure one of the guys was going to get it. The guys were totally into it, and that was just fine with Bree because she didn't want to go after it anyway. That all changed when Monica was serving. Bree was standing toward the back, minding her own business, when the volleyball came rocketing at her. It was evident Monica had played volleyball in high school because her aim was precise, and her strength was enough to send the ball with so much velocity that when Bree instinctively got her arms up to receive it, the collision between her bare forearms and the vinyl of the ball stung with the intensity of an attack from a thousand bees.

She'd hit it, though, and straight enough that one of her teammates, Dwayne, was able to set it. Hank spiked the ball, sending it back over the net at the two bridesmaids, Hannah and Clarice. Neither of them got there in time, and they almost collided diving for it. The ball hit the ground, and Bree's team got the serve back.

"Yes! Nice hit!" Dwayne said, coming over to her with both hands up. Bree slapped her palms against his, and then he wrapped her up in a big hug. For a second, she lost herself in his embrace. He was a hot blond, tall with tanned skin, and a cute, crooked smile. Perhaps he was worth getting to know a little better. But when he stepped aside, and Hank came over to also give her five before they rotated to serve, she caught Trent's eyes. Was that a little bit of jealousy she saw there? Surely not. He had Monica, after all. Still, it seemed as if Trent might be giving Dwayne the stink eye, and if that was the case, perhaps the tiny flutter of hope she'd held in her heart that her chances of being with Trent weren't dead after all. They'd definitely need life support and a good doctor, but if there was anything there at all, maybe she should figure out just how deep it went.