Freshwater Kisses
The morning was still young, and we would have plenty of time yet for practice.
"Oh, you must be Mrs. Owen Parker," a voice said. I stood up straight, nearly spilling my coffee over my hands. A handsome man with spiky bleach blonde hair smiled up at me. The collar on his shirt was popped with a pair of oversized aviator sunglasses hanging from the collar. I frowned slightly; this house was supposed to be on a private beach.
"Um, no, actually. I'm not Mrs. Parker," I replied, feeling a bit flustered and annoyed. I set my cup on the railing and made sure the robe was securely tied around my waist.
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