The Do Over

Looking through my windshield, the scenic drive west on the MacArthur Causeway from South Beach to the mainland looked like a photoshopped image. I flipped back my sunglasses to get a better view. The sky was a crisp blue, and the landscape was bright green speckled with bright orange and pink exotic flowers. I was amazed at all the colors. As a native South Floridian, I took the warm tropical climate and the beauty that surrounded me for granted.

As much as I wanted to appreciate paradise, I was in a hurry to get to my CPR class. I weaved through traffic, trying to avoid lanes that would slow me down. I needed to arrive early enough to find a seat in the back. The book I was currently reading was getting really good, and I had to finish the chapter that my dear friends interrupted. I shook my head, thinking about how they staged an intervention.

I had to admit that I got lost in my stories. I felt each character's pain, angst, and longings. This book in particular was full of everything that makes a novel awesome. It included a typical girl—the one that gives me all the hope that I, too, can have it all—with a couple of hot badass guys who both wanted her. Who will she pick? I was at a really hot and steamy part of the novel where the chemistry between the characters was off the charts.

I had experienced my own relationship drama. Maybe my drama was more anticlimactic since my relationships had never seemed to last. I'd started to notice a pattern. At first, I'd thought I was attracted to the bad boy, the type that would make my dad curse in Spanish and bring my mom to tears. They had questioned their parenting and blamed the divorce. They'd wondered what they'd done wrong and why I couldn't find a nice boy like my sisters. After all, I was such a good girl. My mom had said I was codependent and needed therapy. She'd read a lot of self-help books. Then, I'd realized that they all had the same thing in common. He could be a bad boy on a motorcycle with a couple of tattoos, who would give my dad heart palpitations, or he could be a nice guy in a BMW, wearing khakis and a polo, who would make my mom swoon. They were all scared to death of commitment.

No matter the type of guy, I would be swept off my feet. The dashing, charming boyfriend would promise me the world, saying everything I'd ever wanted to hear, but as soon as I was head over heels in love with him, he would bail. I was sick and tired of hearing the same excuse.

"Dani, you're a wonderful woman. It's not you. It's me. You're the type of girl a guy marries and has kids with, but the truth is that I'm not ready to get married yet."

With that, everything would fall apart for me.

That never happened in books. The heroine always had two guys fighting for her. I found the triangle-relationship plot to be exciting and thrilling. Real life never had that kind of drama, at least not for me. I just had the heartbreak without the triangle angst. That had been the case with Rick Marin. Thanks to him, I was on a self-imposed dry spell. Frankly, I was done with all the headaches that came with dating.

My mind was so wrapped up in the book that I didn't even notice that I'd already pulled into the training center. With just enough time, I ran into the classroom and grabbed a seat. The instructor still hadn't arrived. The flyer had displayed his picture with all his credentials. He was a Captain for the Miami-Dade County Fire Department. He looked like an older, distinguished man, similar to my dad, which was perfectly fine. I wasn't looking for anything else. I just couldn't get Macy's hottie instructor comment out of my head. Macy's one-track mind always led straight to the gutter. I wanted this class to be over with since I was already certified in CPR, and honestly, it was keeping me away from my book.

I convinced myself that I could finish the chapter before class started, and then I would pay attention to the training, or at least act like it. After all, it was incredibly rude to read while in class. I couldn't help myself though. I just had to keep reading, so I started the next chapter.

I was worried that my friends were right. Maybe my reading hobby was becoming a bit of an addiction. Maybe I did have a problem. I thought about attending some twelve-step program where I'd introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Dani. I'm a Kindleholic, and I hoard eBooks." At the moment though, I was more concerned about what the protagonist in the book was going to do. After I knew, I could then pay attention to the class in peace.

I noticed when the instructor entered the room, passing by me as I sat in the corner by the door. The room itself wasn't too big, but the class was almost filled to capacity. This worked to my benefit, so I could blend in the background and zone out for a little while.

From the corner of my eye, I could tell the instructor was tall and lean. He didn't look too bad for an old dude. I was still glued to my Kindle, struggling to deal with the angst in the book, as I kept my composure in class. I have to finish this chapter. I could not believe what the heroine was about to do. I had a strong desire to scream and throw my Kindle against the wall. Feeling an urgent need to pace, I instead bounced my leg nervously as I chewed on my thumb. I knew this wasn't good. I was having a book meltdown, sitting in a training class, as the instructor started talking.

The instructor introduced himself. Wait. Did I hear him say Lucas? Am I in the right class? The instructor was supposed to be Captain Rafael Santos. Feeling a surge of panic rise inside of me, my face flushed as I painfully tore myself away from my novel.

Slowly, I looked up through my lashes to see that he was walking in my direction. He stopped right in front of me. He was wearing black cargo pants that fit rather nicely on what could only be a tall body. My eyes kept going up until I hit his gray standard county-issued polo, which just so happened to show that he worked out. I shyly smiled as heat rose to my cheeks. I wanted to die of pure embarrassment.

As a bright blush warmed my face, he looked straight into my eyes. He had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. With eyes just like Miami's sky and his dirty blond hair cropped short, he was breathtaking. My peripheral vision was correct. He was tall, lean, and yes, muscular. He was so not the old dude. I was a paralyzed mute. It took all my willpower to keep my mouth from hanging open.

Bending over, he leaned in close to my ear. As his unshaven face brushed against my neck, he whispered, "I'm a jealous fool, and I don't share. Do you mind putting it away?" His tone told me he wasn't asking but telling me what to do. He paused briefly as he leaned even closer. "Name?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Daniela Ruiz," I stammered.

As he slowly stood back up, he winked. He moved to close the door and then walked back down to the front of the class.

At that moment, I realized that I'd been holding my breath with my legs pressed tightly together. Someone call a code blue. I wouldn't mind at all if he had to administer CPR on me. Hmm, maybe I was a little premature on my stance involving men. For the first time in a very long time, I felt hopeful and a little turned on. Okay, I was a lot turned on.