Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  * * *

  The next morning, I slipped out the front door of my house and didn’t look back as I tore out of the driveway unable to face the wrath I was sure was coming to me. I was greeted by an equally sleep-deprived Jasmine as she walked through the door with two lattes.

  “Double shots,” she said, offering me my cup. I took it, grateful.

  “How’s the puppy?”

  “She’s adorable and very vocal.”

  “Oh, no. That bad? You’ve been looking forward to getting her for a month.” Jasmine laughed, studying my face. “Poor thing. You can bring her in tomorrow so we can keep her awake during the day.” She took a seat behind her cluttered desk. “I love dogs.”

  “Yeah, my mom never let me have one when I was a kid. She always said no puppies in the penthouse.”

  “You’ve never had a pet?”

  “Never.”

  “Well then, go get her now. You haven’t shut up about her, I want to meet her.”

  “I can’t.”

  Jasmine gave me a sideways glance. “Sure you can. I’ll watch her here.”

  I shrugged as I searched through the schedule. “She’s kind of in someone else’s custody.”

  Jasmine pushed away from her desk and crossed her arms. “You gave her away?!”

  “I loaned her out.”

  “To?”

  “Ian.”

  “Really?” A wide smile covered her face. “You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?”

  “Not possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” she piped.

  I sighed. “Jasmine, he’s in the middle of a crisis. The puppy will help. It’s no more than that. Maybe I’m just a little curious because, after a month of living next to him, he’s still a complete mystery.” Aside from the attraction I had for him, he was off-limits in every way. Emotionally unavailable and temperamental were far from on my wish list.

  “I’m a little attracted to him. But you know crazy attracts crazy.”

  “You aren’t crazy,” she said sharply. “You’re just a nervous nelly.”

  “I left New York and my career because I had a brush with death and now I have an instilled fear of dying. There’s a big difference between having a breakdown in Target over the pillow selection and cracking up on my level.”

  Jasmine jerked out of her chair. “You ass. I’ll have you know that breakdown was legit.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Target is the mecca of indecisiveness I’ll have you know. That breakdown on sheet sets was well warranted.”

  “Forgive me, I forgot it was sheets. I appreciate you trying to relate, but a breakdown about bed sheets pales in comparison.”

  “You haven’t had an episode in a few months though, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s been a little over a month, but that’s a very long time for me.” I looked her over. “Sorry, I’m sure it was traumatizing for you in Target. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m tired. I’m sure your breakdown was legit.”

  “It wasn’t legit, it was PMS.” She yawned. “I’m exhausted. I got no sleep because of Chris. He’s a sea captain and has a hooked penis.”

  I swallowed down my latte with a chuckle. “Oh? Do tell.”

  “And the man’s got a thing for Mexican women.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t—”

  “Oh, yes I did. Last night I was Maria Valdez. I even went as far as reciting some old high school Spanish.” She waggled her brows.

  “That’s wrong on so many levels.” I shook my head. “Seriously, you spend half your time correcting people on your ethnicity and you mean to tell me you changed it for curvy cocked Chris?”

  Jasmine wrinkled her nose. “Don’t say cock, that’s gross.”

  “And penis is clinical,” I chided.

  “Dick?” She offered as a middle ground.

  That time I wrinkled my nose. “Better, but to me, that describes more of a type of personality than the actual body part.”

  Loud laughter erupted from the door as Toby, our water deliveryman, stood holding our weekly five gallons on his shoulder. “Never a dull moment in here, huh ladies?”

  Jasmine didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, Toby, what do you call your penis in the heat of the moment?”

  I choked on a bite of bagel as he shook his head to ward off her question and switched the water bottles out.

  I spoke up glaring at Jasmine. “Sorry Toby, I apologize on her behalf. She was raised by Mrs. Valdez, who ran a brothel in Mexico.”

  “Har, har,” Jasmine snapped before narrowing her eyes at me. “And as far as that story goes, I grew up with my aunt in California who lived just over the border.” Jasmine walked over to where Toby stood and I cringed. “I’m serious. Toby, are you married?” Toby turned to us with his hands on his hips. He was stocky and a little taller than Jasmine but not by much. He had a teddy bear’s build and thick sandy blond hair. One side of his mouth lifted. “Married, no. And you really want to know?”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “Water cooler talk.” Toby and I shook our heads fighting a laugh before he assessed Jasmine with a thorough once-over. “Depends.”

  “On?” Jasmine’s voice was syrupy sweet, and I rolled my eyes at her as she looked on at Toby unashamed and entertained.

  “On how dirty the sex is,” Toby replied boldly.

  Jasmine’s dark eyes fixed on his lips as he spoke. “If it’s dirty…”

  Even I was leaning forward as Toby sucked all the air out of the room. “I mean if it’s really dirty…”

  “Yes?” we said in unison. He leaned over and began whispering in her ear. She nodded as she kept her playful brown eyes on me. My bagel became chalk in my mouth as the two whispered back and forth before I swallowed and demanded an answer. “Well?”

  Jasmine’s mouth dropped as he leaned in one last time and whispered to her suggestively before he gave me a departing wink and walked out the door.

  Her impossibly tan face turned crimson.

  “Well?”

  “It’s cock.”

  “One point, Koti. I told you.”

  “I think my breasts are sweating,” she said, fanning her boobs. “Did you feel the heat coming off of that one?”

  I was definitely feeling… something. “Is it weird that just made me hot?”

  Jasmine shook her head and we both laughed. “Babe, I would be worried about you if you weren’t. Phew,” she picked up one of our brochures and used it as a makeshift fan for her sweaty breasts. “Who knew the water boy had it in him? Then again that is the basis for good porn.”

  “You are something else you know that? Get a grip, Gersch. Your escapades have turned you into a pervert.”

  “Cock…” she practiced shaking her head and wrinkling her nose. “Cock.” She pushed her voice up a decibel. “Cock.” She looked over to me. “It sounds weird, right? In no way, does that sound sexy coming out of my mouth”

  “Maybe it’s the Minnesota in you. It sounds more like you’re saying caulk.”

  “Cock,” she repeated, shaking her head again as I buried my head between my hands and pressed my forehead to my desk. Her voice was low as she spoke it again. “Cock.” She practiced again and I banged my head on my desk. “Cock,” she repeated until… “Nope, it’s penis.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Koti

  After work, because it had been a decent day and I felt I had the strength to handle it, I answered my phone as I was stripping down for a shower.

  “Hi, Mom.” I unbuttoned my shorts and slid them off before I laid on my bed in a sweaty heap.

  “Koti, Troy Emerick wants to meet with you!” I ignored her attempt at getting straight down to business without greeting pleasantries and went on a spiel of my own.

  “I’m fine. The weather is great. I think we may get some rain, which we need. Work is good. We’re gaining clients daily.”

  “Koti.” Her voice held that sharpness I’d grown used to but had
also become immune to.

  “This is Troy Emerick, you know he’s one of the best agents in New York. He’s agreed to meet with you as a favor to me.”

  “Thank you, but I’m happy here. I wish you hadn’t called in that favor on my account.”

  “What you’re doing with your life is not sustainable forever.”

  “I disagree,” I said, turning to study my body in the full-length mirror. It was a far cry from the stick thin skeleton frame it was a year ago. The circles under my eyes had disappeared. I’d gained the twenty pounds I needed to resemble healthy. I wondered if for one second my mother would forget her ambitions for me and notice the difference if she saw the new state I was in, or if it would even matter. “Mom, I’m in my underwear ready for a shower, can I call you back?”

  “No, because you won’t.” I gritted my teeth but held in my impatient sigh as she continued. “He can get you back in. You might have to—”

  “Mother, I already sold my soul. New York has it, okay? I’m never going back.” I took a deep breath in an attempt to ignore the stirring tension in my limbs.

  “Okay, Koti, it’s been long enough. I’ve talked to your father and we need you to come back to discuss your future.” And there it was. I was sure it took a good amount of her strength to be a concerned parent first and put expectant on the back burner. Apparently, a year was her limit.

  But she hadn’t been there, not in the way I needed her. And though my father tried, he couldn’t understand just how that day had changed me. I had a hard enough time coming to grips with it myself.

  At that moment, I remembered running through endless faces in the freezing cold with a box full of my belongings in six-hundred-dollar heels, my face pouring defeat, my heart pounding out of my chest, passing stranger after stranger, the words ‘help me’ on my lips and not a single soul around who gave a shit. After wandering aimlessly around New York for hours without a future, I tossed the box that held my degree in the garbage and sat in front of it in the cold until my limbs went numb.

  “Mom, I’m a little old for this talk of my future. If you’re going to threaten to take away the house, I’m prepared for that, so go ahead and do it. I’m too old to map out my life, instead, I’m living it. Here in St. Thomas. This is my future. Whatever issues you have with my failure, you’re just going to have to deal with it, like I have.”

  “Deal with it!? You ran away!” Her breathing was erratic. She had totally planned to play the house card. But how much of a threat would it be anyway if the stipulation was to return to New York?

  “Are you taking the house away?” I pressed on, unafraid of what she would say. There was nothing she could do to me that the world hadn’t done already.

  “Of course not, Koti,” she feigned offense.

  I heard my father ask to speak to me. That card I wasn’t ready for. He was still disappointed I lied to him with my promise to come home for Christmas.

  “I have to go, Mom. I have a renter calling.”

  “Koti! We haven’t seen you in a year! You’re breaking your father’s heart.”

  “I know, Mom, and I’m sorry. I’ve already apologized for that. I’m not ready.

  “Koti.” My father’s voice was a mix of concern and growing impatience for both of us, I was sure.

  “Dad, I’m sorry I can’t talk now.”

  “Listen to me, you either get on a plane or we will.”

  “Dad, I have to work,” I said weakly, his deep voice piercing my heart. “I can’t just leave; my boss depends on me.”

  “No more excuses on either side.” I knew his stern words were also meant for my mother, who I was sure was the reason my father hadn’t already shown up in St. Thomas. I knew she was sure I would come running back for financial help, guidance, or both. Another disappointment for her.

  “I need to see my little girl.”

  His words struck hard and I did my best not to let him hear it. “Soon, Dad, I promise. I love you both. I’ve got to go.”

  “Koti—”

  “Dad, I’ll call you back. I love you.” I hung up as my heartbeat sped up and my face flamed.

  I lay back in bed panting, a tear rolling down my cheek. In and out. Breathe. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. You’re okay. You’re okay.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

  Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes passed before I lifted my newly drained bones off the bed and submerged them in a shower. Twenty minutes and half a Xanax later, I was dead to the world.

  * * *

  Disco barked as I turned on my side and looked out the window toward the Kemp house before glancing at the clock.

  2 a.m.

  Unable to handle her yapping, I ripped myself away from the bed and slid on my flip-flops.

  I could feel the tension behind the door before I knocked. Seconds later, a T-shirt clad Ian answered with wide, helpless eyes.

  “Have you picked her up?” I pushed past him to see Disco in her box in the middle of the living room. “Ian, she can’t see that you’re here and that’s why she’s freaking out!”

  “Well, she pisses and shats everywhere!”

  “She’s a puppy,” I said, pulling her from her prison. “You have to take her outside every hour or so and reward her when she pees or poops.”

  “I’m well aware,” he snapped. “So, you take her.”

  “I can’t, I’m allergic,” I said with a mock cough. He crossed his arms as I held the dog toward him. Disco whimpered and scrambled in my grip before she leaped at him. He was forced to catch her and when he did, I could see the delight cover his face. He was reluctantly smitten. He looked over at me with narrowed eyes. “You are conniving.”

  “Thank you, I do my best. This is a puppy we are talking about here,” I said, looking at the dog with longing. “Puppy breath, puppy love. Seriously, don’t miss out on this.”

  He raised a thick brow and looked down at my camisole top before he averted his eyes without a single tell. Had I gone over there in my skimpiest camisole on purpose?

  Absolutely… not.

  But my breasts were the elephant that now sat on the puppy at hand.

  Disco lay quietly in his grip.

  “See, she just needed some love,” I said, feathering her soft fur through my fingers. I leaned down and kissed her forehead before I looked up at a surprisingly close Ian. “Disco needs you, crocky.”

  He rolled his eyes as I spotted a large dry erase board behind him.

  “What’s this?”

  Ian cradled Disco in his arm and stepped in front of me to obstruct my view of the board. “Just something I’m working on.”

  I tilted my head. “Why so secretive? I’ve already seen you at war, Marine.”

  His lips twitched in amusement. “That was years ago.” His eyes strayed down to his stomach. I saw his disappointment and felt my heart rip slightly at the degrading evaluation he gave himself. So he’d gained a few pounds since his service. No big deal. He’d already lost quite a bit of it in the month he’d been on the island. And I found it admirable that he served at all. Little love handles aside, the man was drop-dead gorgeous. He had to know that. But I wasn’t going to leave it unsaid, I’d been a victim of self-image awareness my whole life. So, what did I do to make sure he knew he still had it?

  “Ouch! What in the hell are you doing, woman?”

  My hand burned as I lifted my reddened palm away from his firm ass and presented it to him, “Still got it, eh?”

  Not my best move, but when Ian Kemp threw his head back and laughed, a wave of pure bliss washed over me.

  Ignoring the urge to kiss his prominent Adam’s apple, I shrugged as if I went around slapping men’s asses on a daily basis. I sidestepped him as he kept Disco snug in his arms and looked at the board. There was a list of lecture topics and keynotes.

  I nodded toward it in question.

  “It’s a course shcedule. I teach.”

  “Shcedu
le?” I grinned, and he grinned back.

  “Right, you always had a thing for my accent.”

  “Doesn’t every red-blooded American woman? I bet you cleaned up with the ladies very well in Texas.” I gave him a wink and his answering grin didn’t deny it.

  My whole body tensed at the sight of his smile. Angry with my horny self, I moved to the defensive. “And your accent has faded a little, what a pity.” He gave me that all-knowing stare again. The one that told me he knew my next words before I spoke them. I walked over to the board and felt his eyes on me.

  “I blame Texas.”

  “South Africa to Dallas, what in the world made your parents make that move?”

  “We went there initially to wait for my brother, the birth mother lived there.”

  “Your parents told me a little about him last summer, I forgot his name…?”

  “Adam. He’s adopted. My parents and I waited in Dallas for the length of the pregnancy. They got acclimated. I hated it, but we stayed.”

  “Too hot?”

  “I can handle hot,” he said, looking over the list on the board before he took a step forward with Disco cradled in his free arm and erased one of the notes. “The academics were lacking. I was several levels ahead, and it was all very boring.”

  “I remember you griping about not being able to safari on the weekend. No chance of lions invading Dallas then?” He threw his head back at my shitty attempt at his accent. I felt like I was batting a thousand every time I heard that sweet rumble erupt from his chest.

  “No, there wasn’t much adventure for me in the concrete jungle.”

  “I could say different about where I came from. I suffered from overstimulation. What do you teach?”

  “Linguistics and American Sign Language and sometimes I dabble in creative writing.”

  “Professor Kemp?” I mused, unable to picture him instructing a classroom. “You went from the Marines to teach?”

  “Actually, it was my wife’s doing. My ex-wife, Tara. When we discovered our daughter was deaf, I dabbled in speech, speech pathology, audiology, and linguistics. She pushed me in the direction of teaching. I used to write letters to her when I was stationed overseas. She thought I had a knack for it.”