SUMMER SWAP 2 // Chapter 5

One beneficial side-effect of being a yacht-vacation nudist was it curbed your appetite. When you were on full, uncovered display, those cravings for sugary alcoholic beverages and salty snack foods diminished. That being said, Chey found herself in the kitchen preparing herself a snack. Nothing but good choices: two carrots on the counter, one in her grip, her other hand shuffling the grater up and down its shaft, making a shredded carrot salad she would eat with some apple cider vinegar and organic raisins.

It was tremendously odd being alone in the kitchen without a stitch of clothing on, but she kind of liked it. If Penny from work had asked her what the wildest thing Chey would do on vacation, she probably would have come up with something lame, like jumping off the top deck into the sea. Something predictable and that made sense. Not that she ever intended to jump off the yacht. Though she hadn’t intended to do this swinging and nude sunbathing thing, either. All the things she’d engaged in since the first night on the yacht had been wilder than she could ever have—

Behind her: “Our paths cross again, Miss Susan.” The voice was a put-on cowboy drawl, confident and masculine. She froze. Now he said, “I’d recognize that pretty little behind anywhere.”

She peeked over her shoulder to see Cody coming into the kitchen, wearing a loose tank top, and at first he thought he wore no pants at all. But no, Cody wore skimpy black bikini briefs, his package mostly hidden by the loose top. She couldn’t help giggling, though she felt stupid doing it. She was standing with a vegetable peeler in one hand, a big carrot in the other, her naked butt against the yacht’s marble countertop.

She brought her forearms up to cover her hardening nipples and crossed one leg over the other, protecting the view of her lady parts. But now her eyes were flitting as Cody continued his stroll toward her, dashing left and right, worried there were other eyes watching her. Watching them. But she saw no one.

Cody sauntered around the island, coming right toe-to-toe with her. She bit her lower lip and said quietly—you never knew where someone was lurking within earshot—“Fancy meeting you here, cowboy.”

Cody smiled his dazzling smile, sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows and filling up the brilliant blue of his gorgeous eyes, turning them the same color as the turquoise waters around the shores of Watermelon Cay. He touched above his forehead like he wore an imaginary cowboy hat, loomed closer, putting hands on either side of her hips, mouth close enough to kiss. He said, “Thought I’d never see you again.”

Chey bit her lower lip once more, eyes still darting left and right. “Looks like my group and I got snowed in. We’re stranded in this one-horse town.”

“Looks like it,” Cody said.

“What’s your excuse? Why didn’t you ride your horse on out of here, trot off to wherever you’re headed next?”

“Don’t you need help watching those school kids? Thought I might stick around, see who might need me.”

She said, “There are other parents here.”

Cody bounced his eyebrows. “Well, maybe you let them watch the kids, and I’ll show you the sights.”

She grinned and licked her lips. “What sights?”

He got close to her ear. “I wouldn’t mind starting where we left off, maybe take a tour around the Bozeman saddle,” he whispered, putting his weight onto one hand so he could use the other to trace along the curve of her breast with the knuckle of his index finger. She drew in a quick breath and held it. Her whole body shivered, and her nipple swelled hard.

“Don’t,” she whispered, smiling.

“We don’t have to stay there,” he said, “maybe I’ll take a tour down into the saddle.” He extended his long index finger to touch between her breasts. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind wandering down the valley”—now his finger dragged lower from her breastbone over her rib cage and touched the top of her tummy. She made an embarrassing peeping sound, went onto her tiptoes, shuddering enough to make the vegetable peeler rattle, and spun around.

Cody chuckled, said, “I heard your husband might be in town.”

She giggled and whispered, “Knock it off.”

Now in his own Cody-voice, he said, “What the hell’re you doing to that big carrot?”

“Making a salad,” she said.

“With no clothes on?” He moved away from her and gave her space, leaning his own butt on the counter and looking sideways at her, crossing those tanned muscular arms, his big well-formed fingers curving over his thick tricep, his own wedding finger glinting in the light.

She said, “Everybody’s going commando today,” and began shuffling the carrot with the peeler again, sending long skeins of orange carrot into her bowl.

Cody watched her work a moment, then said, “Gotta be better ways to make coleslaw.”

“I’m a little hungry, but I don’t want to eat. You know, nothing too substantial.”

“You should save some room.”

“Room for what?”

She expected one of his sly double entendres, something he wanted to stuff her with, but he said, “Carla’s got Arlo up on the grill deck. He’s brought out one of the coolers with the good food.”

“Oh, yeah?” Arlo was a chef in the city, worked at a three-star as a sous chef for Frankie Shellenberger, star celebrity chef and general New York City raconteur.

“Yeah, you know those coolers he brought? He’s got all sorts of stuff.”

“Why am I eating Froot Loops for breakfast?”

“Late nights, hangovers . . . the guy’s on vacation. Don’t worry, he did plan for some special dinners. Tonight: some wild yellowfish he cured and, like, marinated in pomegranates or some crazy shit.”

“Oh my God,” she said and lay a hand over her bare stomach. “Carla’s helping him?”

“My wife’s the sous chef today.”

“Aw, she left you all alone?”

He shrugged, whispered, “It’s driving me crazy watching your hand on that big thing.”

She looked down at her grip on the phallic carrot. “Will you knock it off?” she said, and faked a creeped-out shudder. She set the carrot down on the counter gingerly, like she didn’t enjoy seeing it in her hand with that thought in her head.

He said, “That’s better. That pretty hand is wasted on a boring old carrot.”

Dammit, he had ways of twisting her stomach around, turning her on when she wasn’t supposed to be turned on. But she couldn’t help herself. “What do you want me to put in it?” She held up her hand in front of his face and wiggled her fingers.

“Seems your grip has an affinity for a certain shape.”

“I don’t think I could grip anything much bigger than that carrot.”

“One way to find out,” he said, reverting to his sultry, cocky, cowboy drawl. Her eyes flitted around again, the two of them still alone. There were sounds of laughter somewhere beyond the window, but maybe the deck below. She said, “Thought you heard my husband was in town?”

He said, “There’s in town and there’s in the room. Just you and me right now.”

“He’d be so angry.”

“Angry about what?” He went to one hip, leaning it on the edge of the counter, arms still folded.

“Angry if I did this . . .” Her lower lip tucked under her front teeth, and she looked up into his dreamy eyes—her hand grazed down the draping front of his tank top and cupped the front of his swimming briefs. His package was too large for her hand. She brought her knees together and pressed them tight as a heat baked in her oven hot enough to set off the pre-heat chime. “Oh my gosh,” she gasped, disbelieving she actually did it, but not removing her hand. “You think you can get away with wearing this skimpy little thing?”

He cocked one eyebrow, comfortable with his genitals in her hand. “What are you saying?”

“You just don’t mind showing off what you got, do you?”

“Just a pair of swimming trunks, Miss Susan. What else am I going swimming in, long-johns?”

She gave a brief titter and covered her mouth with her unoccupied hand. She ran the pad of her thumb along the spandex material stretched over the sideways-curved shaft of his penis.

Cody looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. “You’re one to talk, standing there without a stitch on.”

She stuck out a hip, shocked at the boldness Cody encouraged from her. “You don’t like it?”

“It might make a problem with my skimpy little briefs, as you called them.”

“You worried you’re going to stretch them out?” She could feel his penis swelling. “You know, most of us around here aren’t wearing a thing at all.”

“Then what’re you complaining about my trunks for? Sounds like you don’t want them on at all.”

“What’s the point in wearing them, cowboy?”

He cocked his head. “I’m taking a little gal for a horseback ride.”

She frowned and tried not to pout. “What do you mean? Who?”

Back to his own voice now, Cody said, “I’m taking Lily on a jet ski ride. You want to come along?”

“I’m making a salad,” she said.

“Oh, come on now, honey-bunch,” he said, back in his cowboy drawl, grabbing her naked hip and pulling her close. “Miss Lily’s just an old friend. And she’s a married woman. I’m taking her out on the old Cherokee Trail and we’re gonna—”

“Have fun,” she said, and returned her attention to the salad.

Cody looked around, then swatted her bottom. She yelped, almost dropped the carrot, went on her tiptoes. She smiled and rolled her eyes, realizing she was being surly and petulant over a man who wasn’t her husband. “You can do what you want,” she said in an apologetic singsong.

Cody said, “I’d like it if you came along.”

She eyed him. “Is that you or the cowboy talking?”

He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You collecting a harem now?”

He smiled and went back to his cowboy accent: “I like seeing you a little feisty, Miss Susan. There’s a fire in your eyes. I like a little—”

Chey lifted the draping front of his baggy tank top and shoved the fat, wet carrot down the front of his skimpy briefs.

Cody jumped back, stepping one knee high, laughing. “Dammit, Susan, that’s cold as shit.”

He pulled the carrot out of his swim trunks and stepped back into her space, his other hand cupping his big package and soothing it. She folded her arms and lifted her chin up, defiant. He wound the carrot in a circle, bringing it closer to her mouth, and she turned her face away.

He said, “Why don’t you slice up your salad with those little bunny choppers? Open that pretty mouth for mister carrot.”

She looked at him sideways, let him push the blunt carrot tip against her lips, strangely aroused that it had just been next to his penis. Her lips parted, and Cody guided the phallic carrot to push against her teeth. She accepted it in her mouth, looking him in his bright blue eyes. Cody smiled, and she saw that she was getting to him just as he was getting to her.

Then Lily walked in, and Chey just about screeched.

She chomped on the end of the carrot and snapped it off with her teeth, snatching the rest out of Cody’s hand and trying to look innocent. Her heart thundered in her ears and she felt her cheeks go hot and knew they would be red. But Lily bounced in, singing, “I’m all ready.”

Chey stepped sideways to put space between her and Cody, and Cody turned to face Lily on the other side of the island, tugging down the front of his tank top to cover his growing arousal. From her angle, she could see its beefy heft resting against the inside of his wrist.

Cody smiled wide and sly, but like he wasn’t hiding anything at all, just his usual charming self. He said to Lily, “You sure are ready, look at you.”

That jealous discomfort wormed through Cheyenne again, twisting up her expression and her stomach.

Shy Lily went all cute and bashful and rolled her eyes around, looking up at the ceiling and doing a cute little dance of tiny movements, showing off her sporty swimsuit.

Cheyenne covered her naked chest with folded arms, saying, “Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea. Jet-skiing. I’m going to come along, Cody.”