Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Brynn laughed. “Thanks. Speaking of broken hearts, are you okay, really?”

  I slid my fingertip along the rim of my shot glass. “Yeah, I guess so. I want to be okay with him being around, but it’s complicated.”

  “Why are men such idiots?” she asked.

  “That’s a very good question.”

  The more Brynn drank, the more she opened up about her breakup. He was only the second guy she’d ever dated. Her brothers had made it almost impossible for her to date in high school, so her first experiences in the—often shitty—world of dating had been in college. So far, her first boyfriend had seemed nice, but he’d broken up with her because he didn’t want to be tied down to one girl. And now she’d had a guy cheat on her.

  I wanted to rip Austin’s dick off and feed it to him. And I wouldn’t have minded doing something equally terrible to her roommate. Some fucking friend she turned out to be.

  We snacked on the stuff I’d brought—drinking made me crave salt, so I devoured a bag of potato chips—and drank more. It wasn’t long before we were both cry-laughing at something, but neither of us could remember what. Which made us laugh harder.

  “Zoe, what the hell are you doing?”

  I looked over to the doorway and saw Ben, Salishan’s groundskeeper and handyman. “Hey, Ben!”

  His mouth turned up in a smile, and he shook his head. Ben was in his mid-fifties. A nice-looking guy—rugged and outdoorsy with smile lines around his eyes. Thick beard. Strong hands. For all I knew, he’d always worked here. He was just as much a fixture as any of the Miles family.

  “I’m sure you’re not here after hours providing alcohol to your boss’s underage daughter,” he said.

  I giggled and tried to stand up. Oh shit, I was really drunk. “No, course not.”

  Brynn was sprawled out on the bench with one leg dangling over the side. “Ben. Hi, Ben. Benjamin. Ben. Benny. Benaroo.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” I said. “She’s just bad a day. I mean had a day. A bad one.”

  He came over to the table and started cleaning up our mess. “Come on, girls. I think it’s time to call it a night.”

  Brynn mumbled something incoherent. Ben just shook his head again.

  I put my head down on the table while he put the bottle and food wrappers back in the grocery bags. I must have fallen asleep for a second, because his hand on my shoulder startled me awake.

  “What? Shit.”

  “Come on, Zoe,” Ben said. I glanced up and he had Brynn in his arms, cradled like a baby. “Let’s get her to bed, then I’ll take you home.”

  “Yeah.” I got up and steadied myself against the table. “Didn’t mean to so drunk. Get so drunk. Ben, you’re a superhero.”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just glad I was here late.”

  I stumbled after Ben while he carried the half-conscious Brynn to the Blackberry Cottage. I’d probably had about two shots too many, but I wasn’t too worried about it. I’d regret it in the morning, but for now, I was happily numb.

  “You know, Brynn is fun,” I said. “Brynn, this is more often. No. We should do this more often.”

  “I don’t think Brynn will want to do this again for a while,” Ben said.

  “What?” I asked, laughing. “She will. I’m super drink to fun with. Wait. Super fun to drink with.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Ben said.

  We stopped outside the cottage and Ben struggled to get his keys out while holding Brynn. I moved in to help, but the ground seemed to roll beneath my feet. I had the fleeting thought that I was about to land on my face when a pair of strong hands caught me.

  “Whoa there, Zo.”

  An arm slipped around my waist and I felt the warmth of a body next to mine. I looked up and blinked, my eyes feeling heavy. “Roland?”

  “What the fuck, Zo?” he asked, but there was amusement in his tone. Or maybe I was so drunk, everything sounded funny.

  I laughed. “Hey, Miles. Wanna have a drink with me?”

  “It looks like you’ve had more than enough,” he said. “Thanks, Ben.”

  “No problem,” Ben said. Somehow he’d gotten Brynn’s door open. “I’ll get her to bed. You want me to take Zoe home?”

  “No, I’ve got her,” Roland said.

  “Ben’s so nice,” I said, giggling. “Why is he so nice?”

  “He’s a good guy,” Roland said. “Come on, Zo. Let’s go.”

  Roland half-carried me to the cottage next to Brynn’s. My feet didn’t want to work right, my legs felt like jelly, and somehow it was all hilarious.

  “Aren’t you taking me home?” I asked.

  He opened the door and I shuffled in, still pressed against him for balance. “Nope. You woke me up, and I just want to go back to bed. You’ll have to crash here tonight.”

  I laughed again, because in my tequila haze, something about that seemed incredibly funny.

  10

  Roland

  I dragged a very drunk Zoe inside the cottage. She leaned against me with her arms wrapped around my waist, tripping over her own feet.

  I’d been in bed when Zoe’s voice from outside had woken me up. I’d come out to tell her to shut up, but found Ben carrying Brynn, with Zoe stumbling behind them. I hadn’t even realized my sister was home. Luckily, I knew Ben would take care of Brynn—make sure she was safe tonight. Ben was one of the few people I’d trust with anything, my baby sister included.

  “Let’s go, drunkie,” I said, nudging Zoe in. The scent of tequila mixed with the smell of her shampoo. It was oddly arousing, which made me think I really ought to take her home. But damn it, I was fucking tired. I wanted to go back to bed, not drive her drunk ass across town. I wasn’t even sure where she lived.

  And I kind of wanted to mess with her. She’d obviously gotten my sister drunk. I didn’t need to know what had happened to know whose idea that had been.

  “I’m not as think as you drunk,” she said, then erupted with laughter. “You’re drunk.”

  “Nope, I’m the sober one tonight,” I said. “Come on, keep walking. We’re almost there.”

  She lurched toward the kitchen. “You need a drink.”

  I grabbed her around the waist to keep her on her feet, then held her for a moment until she stopped struggling. Her body relaxed against me, but I didn’t keep walking. Knowing I shouldn’t, I kept my arms around her, just holding her. She felt good. Familiar.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. Her body convulsed, and she covered her mouth.

  Instinctively, I pulled her into the bathroom and opened the toilet. She crumpled to the ground and for a second, I thought maybe she wasn’t going to—

  Then she did. I crouched down behind her and pulled her hair back. Waited while she emptied what looked like half a bottle of tequila into the toilet.

  “Are you okay?” I asked when she finished. I helped her stand and get cleaned up.

  “I’m good,” she said, but her eyes were half-closed. “I got this.”

  I finished wiping her face with a wet washcloth. “Yeah, you’ve got everything under control, don’t you?”

  “Everyone is can’t be so like you responsible,” she said. “Wait, no. Said that wrong. Everyone responsible… no. What was I saying?”

  “That you need to go to bed.”

  She laughed. “No I don’t.”

  “I think you do,” I said. “Come on, Zo.”

  I led her into the bedroom and she collapsed onto the bed.

  “Mm, soft,” she said, nuzzling her face into the comforter.

  “Yeah, it’s nice,” I said. “What were you doing with Brynn, anyway?”

  “Drinking tequila.” She hiccupped.

  “I can see that,” I said. “Why?”

  “Cheater, cheater,” she said. “Fucking men.”

  “What?”

  “Her fucking boyfriend cheated,” she said. “Imma cut his balls off.”

  Hearing that unleashed a wave of anger, pouring h
eat through my veins. I wanted to cut his balls off. “Are you serious?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said. “So drinks a few. No. Had a few drinks.”

  “I’d say it was more than a few,” I said. “Is Brynn okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “She’s a tough girl. But wait till Coop finds out.”

  Cooper was going to lose his shit when he found out someone had hurt Brynn. We were all protective of her, but Cooper took it to an entirely different level.

  “He’ll be pissed,” I said. “You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

  She tapped her finger against her temple, like she was thinking hard about my question. God, she was ridiculous when she was drunk.

  “Nope,” she said. “We should get pancakes. Remember the pancakes, Roland?”

  “Yeah, I remember the pancakes,” I said.

  The first time we’d gotten drunk together, we’d been high school seniors. Although, it was more accurate to say Zoe had gotten me drunk. I’d grown up around wine—alcohol hadn’t been much of a novelty for me. But tasting your mom’s latest cabernet and getting wasted with your crazy girlfriend on cheap whiskey were two very different experiences. We’d decided we needed pancakes at two in the morning and walked across town to a diner that was open all night. I still remembered those pancakes as being one of the best things I’d ever eaten.

  Whiskey will do that to you when you’re seventeen.

  She giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t seen Zoe this drunk in a long time. There was no way she’d remember this tomorrow.

  “Why you smiling?” she asked.

  “Because you’re funny when you’re wasted,” I said. “And because you’re going to freak out when you wake up in the morning.”

  “I will not.”

  “Yeah, you will,” I said. “You’re in my bed, and I’m going to sleep next to you. When you wake up, you’re going to wonder how the hell you got here.”

  “You can’t sleep with me,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not moving you,” I said. “And I’m not sleeping on the couch. So you’re stuck with me.”

  “Hmm,” she said, humming like she was deep in thought. Either that or she was on the brink of passing out. It was hard to tell. “Not freaking out in the morning.”

  “You will,” I said. “You aren’t going to remember this conversation.”

  She draped her arm over her forehead and groaned. “Yes, I will.”

  “Nope,” I said. “I know you, Zo. You’re past the point of no return.”

  “Why did I drink all that fuckin’ tequila?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Brynn needed me. This is whatcha do.”

  Brynn needed her. Maybe she had. Zoe had been a part of my family for years—since Brynn was little. And here she was, years later, still with them. Still working for my parents. Hanging out with my brothers. Being a big sister to Brynn. She’d left me, but she hadn’t left them.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “I can’t sleep here,” she said, curling up and tucking her hands underneath my pillow. Her eyes drifted closed. “This is your bed.”

  “I know it is,” I said. “That’s why it’s funny.”

  “What if your girlfriend comes over?”

  “She wouldn’t anyway, but she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

  “What?” Her eyes opened and focused on me. “What happened?”

  “I broke things off,” I said.

  “Why?”

  For a second, Zoe looked awfully sober. Maybe she would remember this tomorrow. But then her eyes drifted closed and her head relaxed against the pillow. A few seconds later, she was asleep.

  “Because I guess I need someone who cares,” I said. “And she never did.”

  I laid down on my side, facing her. Pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. She was out cold—didn’t even flinch. I traced her cheek with the tips of my fingers, feeling her soft skin. Her lips parted, and her breath came out in a raspy snore. It made me smile again. She always snored when she passed out drunk, and always denied it later. I’d have to tease her about it tomorrow.

  Of course, tomorrow she’d be sober, and there would still be this gulf between us.

  11

  Zoe

  My stomach was raw, and my head hurt, but the warm body next to me felt so good, I didn’t mind. I nestled in closer to his back, curling up against him. I had the vague sense that my hand was down the back of his underwear, my palm splayed across his tight ass. It almost made me giggle, but I didn’t want to wake him. I never slept over with Van, but apparently I had last night. It wasn’t like I was in love with the guy, but he was cuddly to sleep with. Who knew?

  I took a deep breath, his scent flooding through me. God, he smelled great. Why had I never noticed how good he smelled? It was a heady masculine scent that lit up a deep primal part of my brain. Despite the fact that a raging hangover was rearing its ugly head, warmth spread through my core. I traced my nose along the back of his shoulder, breathing him in. It was too bad Van wasn’t generally a snuggler. This was nice.

  He shifted, making a low sound in his throat, and I froze. Wait. This wasn’t Van. I hadn’t even seen Van last night, let alone spent the night with him. Had I?

  The previous evening came back to me. Drinking with Brynn. Way too much tequila. Ben picking her up and carrying her back to the guest cottage. And—

  Oh my god. Roland.

  I very carefully cracked one eye open. There was indeed a man sleeping next to me. He was in a t-shirt, his muscular back moving with his soft breathing. I was tucked so close, I was practically on top of him. One of my feet was wedged between his legs and yes, my hand was down the back of his underwear.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

  Why the fuck was I in bed with Roland? And why was I grabbing his ass?

  Moving as slowly as I could so I wouldn’t wake him—oh my god please don’t wake up and catch me with my hand in your pants—I slid my hand out of his underwear. He didn’t move. I carefully shifted my leg, then rolled onto my back, separating myself from him.

  He stayed where he was, still apparently asleep. I let out a long breath. My head was killing me, and my stomach felt like something had died in there. I loved tequila, but I probably needed to admit I was too old for this shit.

  And for the love of everything, why was I in bed with Roland?

  We were in the Hummingbird Cottage, where he’d been staying. I could tell by the hummingbird curtains and the watercolor picture of a hummingbird on the wall. He must have brought me in here last night. But why? Brynn was staying in the cottage next door, so he must have come out when I was bringing Brynn home. Or, more accurately, when Ben was bringing Brynn home. I was pretty sure Ben had offered me a ride, so why hadn’t Roland just let him take me home?

  But he hadn’t. My memory was spotty, but I could recall bits and pieces. Suddenly I remembered puking in his bathroom. God, I’d really had way too much to drink. But Roland had handled it. Held my hair, helped me clean up. Then put me to bed. With him.

  I vaguely remembered him telling me it was going to be funny in the morning because I wouldn’t remember how I got here. Ass.

  I found myself suddenly wondering about his girlfriend. What would she think if she knew he’d slept in a bed with his ex-wife last night?

  But wait. Hadn’t he said something about her? Maybe I’d asked. But I remembered him telling me he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore. He’d broken up with her. Did I remember that right?

  Not that it mattered. He could be with anyone he wanted. He didn’t owe me anything.

  I needed to pee something fierce, but I really wanted to avoid the awkward morning conversation that was sure to happen when Roland woke up. I’d thank him later for helping me last night and letting me crash here. But if he never knew I’d been sleeping cuddled up next to him with my hand on his ass, that w
ould be a very good thing.

  And I was not going to think about how good it felt to sleep next to him. Absolutely fucking not.

  I slipped out of bed—thankfully I was still fully dressed—and grabbed my shoes from beside the bed. Roland slept on as I tip-toed out of the bedroom. My purse was on the floor next to the front door, with my phone and keys inside. Good. I didn’t have to go hunting for any of my stuff. I couldn’t remember if I’d been wearing anything else besides my t-shirt and leggings—maybe a hoodie or cardigan. I didn’t see anything lying around, so I crept out the front door, shutting it as quietly as I could.

  The cool morning air felt good. I took a deep breath and let it clear my head a little. I still needed a vat of coffee and a greasy breakfast before I’d feel human, but fresh air had its merits.

  I went next door to check on Brynn. Poor thing. I might have gone a little overboard last night. I wasn’t sure how often she got shit-faced. I’d done it enough times to know exactly what to expect—and how to counteract the worst of it—but Brynn was young. It took some experience to handle a night of ill-advised tequila.

  I knocked softly and waited. If she wasn’t awake yet, I could check in with her later. “Hey, Brynn? Are you up, sweetie?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was muffled through the door, but she sounded miserable. “Just a sec.”

  I ran my fingers through my tangled hair while I waited. God, I needed coffee. If she didn’t have any, this was going to have to be a very short visit.

  Brynn opened the door. She was dressed in an oversize Tilikum College sweatshirt and black leggings. Her hair was a mess, she had makeup smudged beneath her eyes, and I had a feeling she’d spent some quality time praying to the porcelain god last night. But she still smiled.

  “Morning, sunshine.” I sniffed, detecting the scent of brewing coffee coming from her little kitchen. “Glad you’re still alive.”

  She shook her head. “Barely. Want to come in for coffee?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice vehement. “I think I’ll die in the next five minutes if I don’t get some.”