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I had no doubt that we were probably down on the list of “naughty’s” and not the “nice” due to the fact of my sixteen-year-old appearance and my uncle’s grim no-nonsense exterior of expressionless thought. I was certain the staff suspected our nocturnal sins were mountainous and smiled behind their hands at my often too-revealing short skirt addiction that made me more like a real-life “Lolita” than some innocent niece with only ice cream and music on her mind.The assistant manager was the son of the older woman that managed the place and she was usually dressed in a plain black ankle-length dress with a huge cross around her neck that made her look like one of the visiting nuns touring the Vatican City and a chance to touch the hem of the Pope’s robes when he swept by with a regal entourage.His name was Roberto and he was quite delicious to me in my sixteen-year-old fantasy world of desperately wanting that first kiss and the feel of an actual male’s fingers between my legs and right. He thought he silenced his groan, but her head snapped his direction. ‘Who’s there?’ she demanded. ‘Otto, if that’s you, I’m going to tell Hayden you were watching me.’ Hayden started to back away from her, but he couldn’t tear himself away from looking at her figure. She took a step toward him, still talking. ‘Otto,’ she teased. ‘I know you are there. Confess and I’ll not tell on you.’ Hayden stood, his face barely visible in the waning sunlight. ‘It’s me, Cayden. It’s not Otto.’ He took a step toward her, tilting his head to the right, his brows drawn together in sudden anger. ‘Has Otto been watching you?’ Otto was his friend and would one day be his brother, but he felt hot jealously toward the future Baron. ‘No,’ she answered, suddenly as flustered as her brother. She tried to look everywhere but in his face. They could hide little from one another. She knelt down in the sand and began combing her fingers through her long, wet hair as Hayden emerged from the bushes. She heard his.
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