Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  The girls were obsessed with boys. They made fun of me for my grades. Then my glasses. Then my boobs.

  “I had one good friend in college. It was short-lived,” I say, feeling myself auto-detach from the topic.

  “Okay. That’s a starting point. What happened?”

  “Jack.”

  His name tastes bitter as it rolls off my tongue. The detachment that started to flow through my veins as I mentioned Lacie fully flows at the mention of my ex.

  “Jack? Who is Jack?” Sienna asks.

  Would it suffice to tell her I don’t think I ever knew?

  My heart tugs as I think of Jack Williamson. Therapy taught me that the sensation in my chest isn’t for him, but for the time we spent together and what it represented to me—something it definitely didn’t represent to him. The pain, though, that’s because of him.

  And for me.

  I’m hit with a tidal wave of emotions. Guilt, shame, anger—it’s all there and so heavy. But it’s the sadness that swamps me, coming in like a tsunami and eroding the strength I’ve summoned since then. It’s a complete and utter devastation for the naïve young lady I once was who was irretrievably broken in the course of ten months. The me who lost both of my parents in a tragic accident. Who became the head of her family despite not having one iota how to do that. The woman who then lost her boyfriend due to her dejection. The girl who just needed a friend but lost her best friend too.

  Then nearly, her own life.

  Tears wet the corner of my eyes. I blink them back.

  “Jack was an old boyfriend,” I say. “We broke up, and he took my best friend, my only friend, with him.”

  “He sounds like an asshole.”

  “He is. Or was,” I say with a shrug. “I like to think that he grew up and did better. That he and Lacie had a good life, and I was worth the trade-off.”

  But there could’ve been room in there for me too.

  I shake my head. “But it’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.” Sienna takes a long breath. “It’s not okay that people you thought were friends did that to you.”

  “Clearly, I didn’t need them. I did just fine in life without them.”

  “It’s not about you needing them. It’s about knowing that you deserve to have good people around you and acknowledging that they didn’t deserve you.”

  Her words make me smile.

  “I’m going to teach you all about friends,” she says. “I’m your friend. The Douchebag and Douchebag Follower weren’t your friends. Welcome to your first friendship, Blaire.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Is this just to extract things about Holt? Because you don’t have to pretend to be my friend for that.”

  “No. That’s just a benefit in this particular instance.” She laughs too. “But I would like you to know I’m available, day or night, to talk. About Holt or anything else.”

  The sun shines brightly. My steps into the front of the park feel light. The smile on my face doesn’t feel too bad either.

  It must be the salt in the air that gets to me because I find myself talking before I even realize it.

  “Nothing has happened with Holt since the first night I got here,” I say. “We almost kissed last night, but Nana called.”

  Sienna’s giddiness rolls through the phone.

  “I slept in the guest room,” I say, trying to control the bubble of excitement in my belly just from talking about him. “It just felt more … practical.”

  “Practical? I would go with saintly, but you’re the intellect. Not me.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t want him to think I’m just a piece of ass. Not that he’s ever treated me like that,” I add. “Not even close. But I just want to maintain a little class.”

  “Of course. I get it.”

  I pick a piece of invisible lint off my shirt. “He’s supposed to be meeting me shortly for a little touristy adventure. I mean, it’s to a church, but that’s more adventurous than I usually get.”

  “I love this,” she says, ecstatic. “I so love this. Have fun. Be excited. This is an exciting thing.”

  The ball of excitement in my gut that I’ve been trying to control begins to unwind. I can feel it slip through my veins and make my heart beat faster, my palms start to sweat. It is exciting whether I like it or not.

  I scrunch up my face and laugh. “I hate that I’m excited about this but …”

  “But it’s Holt. I get it. And it’s new for you. It’s vacation. You’re doing what my sister Camilla and I did—well, sort of—in high school and college. It’s normal.”

  “I’m just late to the party.”

  “You’re just late to the party,” she repeats. “So go have fun. Take all of that man you can while you can.”

  I stick my tongue in my cheek. “Pun intended?”

  “In every way.” She laughs. “Call me later. Remember, we’re friends now. Okay?”

  “Okay, Sienna.”

  “Bye, Blaire.”

  “Goodbye.”

  I end the call and check the time. My spirits are still soaring as I scan the street between the park and the chapel. There is a woman pushing a stroller and a man on the phone but no Holt.

  The breeze kicks up again. The moss dangles from the trees and sways in the air. I close my eyes and sway along with it.

  I should do this more often. I need to make it a habit to get outside and have non-working human interaction. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.

  If I limit it to ten-minute conversations.

  I laugh out loud.

  Scanning the area, I notice a small ice-cream parlor tucked between two buildings on the other side of the street. I try to figure out if the building closer to me is a bookstore or a museum when my phone goes off again.

  I look down.

  And frown.

  My heartbeat picks up in my chest as I read Holt’s text.

  Holt: Got stuck in meetings.

  Disappointment hits me full-on. My shoulders slump as I bite my bottom lip and fire a text back.

  Me: No worries. I get it.

  I wait. And wait. And after four minutes of watching the screen for a reply, I kick myself for still standing on the sidewalk and waiting on a response that clearly isn’t coming.

  Dammit.

  I suck in a breath and slip my phone into my pocket.

  “You can’t blame him,” I tell myself. “He has a lot of work to do, and it’s not like he was planning on you being here this week. His life goes on.”

  I eye the ice-cream parlor again.

  “And mine too.”

  I lift my chin and march across the street.

  Dessert over dick.

  Every time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Holt

  No worries. I get it.

  Blaire’s text sits on my phone. The words are clear. Concise. She understands that a meeting changed my plans because it happens to her all the time too.

  Right?

  I blow out a breath and grip the back of my neck. The muscles are taut and in need of a deep massage—something more than my also-tense palm can provide.

  Oliver rattles on across my office, going into depth about the Landry deal and things I should be considering. He’s done his homework, thank God. It makes me a little less worried about my failure to listen.

  I should’ve called her.

  As I glance up at my brother, I realize that opportunity has passed. I can’t call her. Not now. Not with Rosie walking in any second to tell us that Graham Landry is in the conference room for our second meeting today.

  Why didn’t I call her?

  I cringe.

  The answer to this question isn’t as clear as her response to me. I don’t know why I didn’t call her. Maybe I didn’t think it would matter. I definitely didn’t think her response would bother me a half hour later.

  That’s the problem with texts. You can’t read someone’s tone.

  And this is why I don’t do this kind
of thing with women. It takes up too much damn time—time I need to be spending on other shit.

  But before I can sort through it, Oliver’s gaze meets mine. He lifts a brow, silently chastising me but also throwing a bit of concern my way.

  I get it. For sure. I don’t mentally check out—especially when the topic at hand is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He must think I’ve lost my fucking mind.

  But I haven’t. I’m still here. Just … distracted.

  Really fucking distracted.

  Is Blaire pissed? Does she think I’m blowing her off? Does she think my whole let-me-show-you-around-Savannah line was a lie to get her to stay with me?

  Fuck.

  “I know,” I tell my brother, dropping my hand. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  He furrows his brow like our father does when he’s trying to decide whether to ask Coy about something he allegedly has done or not.

  “I’m fine,” I insist. “Everything is fine.”

  “I hope so. We’ve been working on this deal for months. I’d hate to blow it now.”

  “We are not going to blow it.” I narrow my eyes as I tap the side button on my phone to turn off my screen. “Now, what were you saying?”

  He lets his eyes linger on me a second too long before he looks back down. It’s a subtle warning to shape up or ship out—something Gramps used to say. I wish I could tell him to mind his own business.

  But this is his business. It’s the Mason family’s business. We all depend on it, and we all depend on me to steer the ship in the first place.

  And steer it I will because the only other option is failure. And if there is one thing in my life I can never do, it’s look my father in the face and tell him I let him down. I won’t lose everything our family has worked for over generations.

  I refuse.

  I clear my throat and adjust my tie. “You were saying that you were talking to Boone …”

  “Right.” He clears his throat and settles back in. “So Boone brought up the potential that Landry will want a future stake in the project. What if he wants first right of refusal for occupancy?”

  “The Landrys aren’t into retail. Or hotels.”

  “No, but they like money. And there’s a lot of money to be made here.”

  I look at the ceiling and absorb his point. Because, again, the fucker is right. Or Boone is right. And that’s even more confusing.

  “Boone thought of this?” I ask.

  Oliver laughs. “Yup.”

  “Huh. Maybe he’s decided to be a grown-up, after all.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. Mom found out that he’s been charging her credit card for his video game subscriptions for a year.”

  My head levels, and I look at my brother. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Could I make that up?”

  I shake my head. “Well, the gamer has a point, I guess. Landry could counter us with that. How do you feel about it?”

  “Well, I—”

  A buzz from my desk phone cuts off Oliver.

  “Holten?” Rosie calls.

  “Yes.”

  “Larissa is here to see you.”

  I head to my desk. “Send her in.”

  Our cousin knocks once before opening the door. Her blond curls bounce as she enters. It’s one of the only traits she got from her mother. The rest of her is Mason through and through with her green eyes and tan skin that she inherited from my uncle Howard.

  She gives Oliver a one-armed hug from behind before setting her sights on me.

  “Hey, Holtie,” she sing-songs.

  “When did you start having Rosie buzz you in?”

  She comes to the front of my desk and plops down in one of the leather chairs. “Since you guys almost fired her and now she acts like she has to treat this place like Fort Knox.”

  “We didn’t almost fire her,” I say, looking over her head at Oliver. “We were …”

  “Moving her,” Oliver says.

  I nod. “We were moving her to Wade’s office.”

  “Well, news alert—Rosie doesn’t want to work for Wade. She wants to work for you guys.”

  “She’d love Wade. Eventually,” Oliver jokes.

  I laugh again. “What brought you here? Don’t you have class today?”

  “You do know I have a father who’s perfectly capable of interrogating me, don’t you?”

  “I do. But I thought I’d ask in case he’s slipping.”

  It’s her smile that makes my stomach twist. Her lips part, foreshadowing mischief.

  She scoots around in her chair before finally sitting on the edge and gripping her armrest with both hands. Her nose wrinkles.

  “I’m glad we’re asking questions today,” she pokes. “Because I have one for you.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” Oliver whines. “We have a … thing to do … and …” He sighs, falling back in his chair. “Please just let me keep him focused.”

  Larissa looks satisfied. “Well, even though that didn’t come from you, and I didn’t ask my question, I think it answers it.”

  Ignoring the glare from Oliver is harder than it should be.

  I tuck my tie into my jacket and sit across from Larissa. I ignore her eyes too.

  “So …” She prods. “The fam is saying a real live woman is at your house.”

  “Thanks, Oliver,” I say, blowing out a breath.

  “Oliver?” Larissa looks over her shoulder at my brother before turning back to me. “Wade told me.”

  “Wade?” I must look surprised because Larissa laughs. “Wade told you?”

  “I mean, he wasn’t celebrating it or anything. Actually, he said you were a … fool, I think was the word he chose. I’m just excited that it’s true.”

  I dig around in my desk and find the envelope Larissa came for. Hopefully, she’ll take it and leave.

  “Well, you need to settle down a little bit because it isn’t nearly as exciting as you’re making it out to be,” I say, giving her the package.

  Her eyes light up as she takes it from me.

  “I think the fact that Wade, of all people, brought it up means that it’s a little more exciting than just some ditz you’re bringing to an event,” she says.

  I rock back in my chair. “I bring those ditzes, as you so affectionately call them, with me to places oftentimes as a favor. Someone needed a ticket to something or wanted to network a little bit. I’m not bringing them for me.”

  “He picks the ones for him up at airports these days,” Oliver chimes in.

  “That’s enough from the back of the room,” I say.

  He laughs. “He met this girl at an airport, Riss.”

  Larissa’s face breaks into a wide smile. “It’s like a movie!”

  “It’s not,” I say with just as much gusto. “It’s a woman I met who can’t go home for a few days because her apartment is being renovated. And I offered my home out of kindness.”

  She gets to her feet and tucks the envelope in her pocket. Half of it sticks out the top.

  “That’s all well and good,” Larissa says, “but she’s staying at your house, Holtie. You’re practically marrying this girl in my book.”

  “Oh, please,” I hiss, my stomach twisting tighter. “This is nothing more than … a business arrangement. She’s family of the Landrys, and this helps our situation—something Oliver has also forgotten about.” I look at him pointedly.

  He rolls his eyes.

  Larissa says nothing but doesn’t have to. Her smug little grin says it all.

  I sigh.

  “This is not a business arrangement,” Larissa says.

  “How do you know?” I ask. “You just found out about this—from Wade, no less.”

  “I know,” Larissa says, heading toward the door, “because I found out from Wade. If it wasn’t a big deal, Wade of all people wouldn’t have told me.”

  She throws me a wink as if her point has been made.

  “Riss, you need to be going. Oliver needs my h
elp,” I say.

  “Yeah, but I’ve needed your help all morning, and you’ve been as worthless as tits on a boar.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I say.

  He shrugs. “I think Riss needs to stay, and you need to … get this out of your system. Do it with her so I can get the Holt I know and need back, and we can go make money today.”

  Larissa pats Oliver’s shoulder again. “I love your support of my nosiness.”

  “It’s really just self-preservation,” he tells her. “I’ll see you at the concert?”

  She taps the envelope in her pocket. “Yup. Are you bringing your new babe, Holt?”

  I clear my throat.

  The room gets hotter as I war mentally with her very, very simple question. The answer should be no. It should be a quick response that doesn’t require stumbling or thought.

  I don’t bring random women to family events. My family isn’t a normal family, and they can overwhelm people. They can attract the wrong people. They can become a pass to all the glamorous events in the South—and elsewhere—and that doesn’t bode well for relationships.

  In any case, Larissa’s question shouldn’t still be lingering in the room.

  And Oliver, Larissa, and I all know it.

  Oliver shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask, my question bordering on hostile.

  “Just answer the damn question,” he says.

  “I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Oliver stands. “And I don’t actually care, but now I’m curious. And I like watching you squirm.”

  Larissa leans against the door, her head resting on the wood panels. “I think he answered it, Oliver.”

  “I’m not bringing Blaire to the concert,” I say. But as soon as I do, I regret it.

  It’s none of their business.

  Fuck them for putting me in this position.

  “Suit yourself,” Larissa says, exchanging a grin with my brother. “But may I remind you that you’re getting old. You might wanna settle down and have kids while you still can.”

  “What?” I ask, my jaw dropping for her benefit.

  She laughs. “Thanks for the tickets. I’ll see you two later.”

  “Bye,” Oliver calls after her.