by Tamara Lush
I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “It’s way more complicated than what you’re portraying, bro.”
“You need to get your brain out of your dick and start thinking about your future. She’s way out of your league. Yeah, you’re a rich lawyer in Florida with a future as a politician. She’s from old European money. Be realistic, boy.”
“Shit, you sound exactly like Dad. Be realistic, boy. I don’t see why you dislike her so much. What did she do to you?” I ask crossly.
“Nothing.” His tone softens. “She comes off as a great person. She’s polite and smart and seems quite nice. I just don’t think she’s for you. Apples and oranges.”
I inhale once, twice, three times. Long enough not to retort an answer about how he fell in love with Lauren practically overnight. Long enough not to reach through the phone and punch him. “Thanks for the advice; I didn’t realize I’d hired you as my campaign manager.”
“Whatever. Snark all you want, asshole. Just don’t come crying to me when you lose the primary because some tabloid reporter has crawled up your ass and manufactured a scandal, tanking your campaign. You asked for my advice early on, and I’m giving it.”
I’m silent, because I had asked for his advice long before I met Bella. Is he right? Am I jeopardizing my life’s goals for a relationship that will never go anywhere?
“I gotta run, Max. Headed into the office for a few hours.”
“Good. Just think about what I’ve said.”
The call disconnects, and I open my eyes as I ease myself upright. I’m startled when I spot Bella in the doorway. Oh, shit.
She’s staring with wide eyes and raised brows, looking as pale as the bone-white wall.
Nineteen
Isabella
“Well. Well.” I say this as a statement, not a question. More out of shock and a lack of anything else to say.
Tate hangs his head and sighs, then climbs to his feet. “Bella, I’m so damned sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
“And I didn’t intend to hear anything. I lost track of time and figured you were in here getting dressed for work. I was coming in for a kiss.” I straighten my spine, trying to hide the sadness fizzing in my gut. “I’m sorry I heard that.”
Tate reaches for me and drags me over to the bed, pulling me into his lap. I rub my head on his, like a cat.
“Bella, Max is the oldest. He’s protective of all of us. And I definitely want that kiss.”
Our lips touch briefly, then I pull back and nod. Had my little sister lived, I’d probably be protective of her, as well.
“It’s not that Max dislikes you. He’s just wary of everyone outside of the family. He’s like Dad. You should’ve heard Max when Damien said he was marrying Kate. They announced it after they’d been dating only for like, a month. Max was apoplectic for a few days. I think he doesn’t want any of us to get hurt.”
I shift and move slightly away from Tate’s body so I can look at him. “That’s sweet. But Natalia said Max and Lauren’s relationship was quite quick.”
Tate rolls his eyes. “That’s exactly correct. He’s a hypocrite. Listen, I’m not going to lie to you. The men in my family…”
He sweeps my hair behind my left shoulder. “The men in your family, what?”
“I don’t want to tell you and scare you.”
“Well, don’t leave me guessing.”
“I was talking about this with Dad one day recently. Us Hastings men fall fast. For women.”
My brows drop into a frown. “All women? Like you fall in love with everyone you meet? Have you loved a lot of women?”
He shakes his head. “Not all women. And no, I haven’t. Thought I was in love in college, but I realize now it was just infatuation.”
I frown. Am I in the infatuation category?
Tate rubs my back. “It happens when we meet our, ah, person. Our woman. It happens fast. Take my dad. He and mom met on a plane in the 80s that was diverted to Tampa. They somehow ended up staying here together for a weekend. Here, as in, the resort. It was pretty run-down back then. They were married a couple months later and bought the resort.”
“Hmm.” Is he trying to tell me that he’s falling in love with me? My heart speeds up, and I scratch the back of my neck, feeling vaguely sweaty. As much as I like this idea, the conversation I’d just overheard didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.
“Then there’s Damien. He and Kate knew each other in high school, then found each other back on Paradise Beach ten years later. And boom. Married. Max’s fiancée is Kate’s best friend, and they met at Damien and Kate’s wedding. Boom. Engaged.”
He grins so sweetly my heart melts. I kiss his cheek. “I read something recently about a study on this very topic. Men reported falling in love much faster than women. They’re more immediately stimulated, and they want to claim territory quickly.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Accurate.”
“Women are assumed to be emotional. But in reality, they’re more cautious. Because it helps us from an evolutionary standpoint to be more cautious—we have a finite number of eggs. So we’d better choose well. We want a good mate who will give us healthy sperm and wild meat and such. Oh, and in-laws who don’t hate us. We want that, too.”
He rests his forehead on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I truly am. Max will warm up to you, I promise. Chunky loves you. Nat loves you. Ma loves you. That’s half the battle with my family right there.”
“I think your mother loves the entire planet.”
“Yeah, true, she does.”
“She even mentioned to me that people come here to Paradise Beach to fall in love. Because of some Native American legend. Is that true, or was she just making it up? I couldn’t tell.”
He rolls his eyes. “She always tells visitors that. Was it the story about the explorer and the Calusa Indian girl? Or was it about a pirate and a mermaid? She has a few tall tales.”
I can’t help but giggle. “It was the explorer one.”
“Ahh, right. How he abandoned his ship because he was so captivated? And how the Calusa girl wasn’t entirely convinced until he could demonstrate feats of strength or something?”
“I think you’re getting it confused with Festivus and Seinfeld.”
He chuckles. “Maybe so. But see? It might be true. Men fall in love faster than women. Especially here on the island.”
I pause for few seconds, letting this all sink in while I skim my fingers through Tate’s thick, dark hair. I’ve never actually said I love you to anyone, and no one’s said it to me. Should I ask him if this is how he feels?
Probably not right now. Seems like it’s the kind of thing that should be more organic, no? Maybe a change of subject is preferable.
“And your dad? What does he think of me?”
“He’s skeptical of everyone but Ma. I think he just warmed up to us kids like last month.” Tate laughs.
“So if the Hastings men fall fast, that leaves you and Remy.”
He shrugs and kisses my temple. “Remy. That leaves only Remy. I’m in the other group.”
I’ll probably regret this moment, especially after what I’d just heard, but I grin out of sheer glee. If I can handle my family, surely the Hastings clan will be a piece of cake. And they only want what’s best for Tate. Like I do.
Still, I’m going to wait until he tells me his feelings. This isn’t the kind of thing to drag out of him. But I know I’m definitely falling in love with him.
I should probably start thinking about the future and how we can make a life together. There’s that evolution thing kicking in, I guess. But being with him makes me feel giddy and strangely hopeful, in ways I never have. Why is it so wrong to want to enjoy these feelings and not think about the future?
I kiss his cheek. “What about Nat?”
He lets out a long sigh.
“She got tangled up in a really toxic relationship in high school.”
I rear back. “Nat? I can’t imagin
e that.”
Tate’s mouth hardens. “Yeah. It was bad. The guy was a real dick. He ran with bad crowd here on the island. Partied a lot, was extremely arrogant, in that way only rich boys can be.”
“Sounds like I would’ve loved him.” I roll my eyes.
Tate snorts. “No shit. He hurt Nat bad. Thank Christ it ended, because I thought Dad was going to kill the guy. Well, and Max, too.”
“Yikes,” I whisper. “You don’t have the bloodlust of your dad and brother?”
“Yikes is right.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not the bloodlust type. Chad wasn’t an evil guy. He acted like he was brought up: entitled. Sometimes people can’t help who they become. I realize how lucky and privileged I am because of my parents. They brought me, well us, up right. To care about others.”
I nod slowly, my heart hurting at the thought of sweet Natalie being tangled in an abusive relationship. “She hasn’t seen him since she was a teenager?”
Tate shakes his head. “No. Thank God.”
I melt into him, and he wraps both arms around me. “Love is difficult,” I murmur.
“It doesn’t have to be, though. Doesn’t have to be at all.”
With that, cups my jaw and brings my mouth to his.
“I thought you needed to get to the office,” I whisper as he unbuttons the shirt I’m wearing.
“I happen to have a boss who is pretty understanding.” He growls when he opens the shirt and sees my naked breasts. I laugh because, of course, Tate works for himself. He circles one taut nipple with his tongue, sending shivers down my spine. Grinning, he looks up while caressing my nipple with his thumb.
“The boss will be totally understanding when he hears I was late because of this.”
The whir of the blender doesn’t drown out Natalia’s whoop of joy.
“Margarita season has officially started, bitches!”
Lauren and Kate clap, and I chime in with a cheer. We’re all clustered around the island counter in the kitchen while Natalia operates the blender with near-military precision. She’d brought the contraption over in a special tote bag.
“You should be the one doing this, Kate,” Nat says, pressing a button on the stainless steel machine.
“Dude, no thanks. I’ve had enough of slinging drinks. And I don’t even know what kind of blender that is. You know I make margs by hand.”
“Yeah, I bought this for a party a few years ago. I thought it was cool as shit. See? It shaves the ice up here and blends the ingredients down here. Of course, the ingredients are just as important.”
A line of bottles—top shelf tequila, triple sec, lime juice—sit nearby, along with a tin of salt.
Nat rifles through the cabinets. “Oh, please tell me Tate didn’t get rid of those glasses.”
“Which ones?” I ask, opening a cabinet door near the fridge.
“The plastic ones with the cacti on them. So we can take them in the pool.”
“Oh, they’re here. I saw them yesterday.” I stand on my tiptoes and open a door in the space above the stove.
“There we go. I’ll get them.” Nat’s a lot taller than I am, and she can reach easily. “Damn, girl, you know your way around my big brother’s kitchen.”
A blush creeps on my face. “We’ve been cooking together almost every night. And I’ve also been making special food for Chunky.”
“Really?” Kate says, glancing into the living room at the dog, who’s snoozing on the sofa. He’s wearing a black bandana that she bought for him. It’s emblazoned with two yellow tennis balls and the words Have You Seen My Balls on the front.
“I thought his fur felt extra soft when I petted him today.”
“Yeah, I’m doing a puree of rice, beef, and carrots. With a touch of coconut oil.”
“Nice,” Kate says. She hesitates for a moment, then looks around. “Um. Guys, I have news.”
We all stare at her.
“I talked to Damien last night on Skype. He said he gets a week of R and R. That’s rest and relaxation. He says that most contractors like him fly somewhere close by, or in Southern Europe, for a break. So we’ve planned on meeting in Rome.” She lets out a high-pitched squeal, and Lauren joins her.
Nat and I are standing back, beaming and watching Kate do a little dance.
“Thank God you’re going to see him. I can’t imagine being away from my man for that long,” Lauren says.
“It’s kinda weird to hear my brother being called my man, but whatever,” Nat mutters.
“I’m really happy for you,” I say to Kate, squeezing her arm. “If you need any tips about Rome, let me know. I know the city quite well.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” she says, her eyes glistening. “Although I don’t know if we’ll even get out of the hotel room much.”
“LaLaLaLaLa,” Nat chants, putting her fingers in her ears. “Can the three of you please refrain from talking about my brothers and sex? Have mercy. I still think of them as three kids in superhero underwear, making fart noises with their armpits and pretending to be wrestlers.”
We all dissolve into laughter, and Nat pours the drinks into four glasses, handing one to each of us. “To my brothers. And to our new soul sister, Isabella.”
“Aww,” I say softly.
“We’re glad you’re here with us,” Lauren says.
We all take sips and something about the normalcy of it all makes me tear up.
“What?” Kate asks, her eyes wide with concern. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s been a really weird couple of weeks. With the arrest and the paparazzi. My parents. Tate. God, Tate.”
The three women murmur in sympathy.
“Sometimes it’s not easy being in my situation.” I take a gulp of my drink. “This is damned good.”
Lauren tilts her head. “I can’t imagine being you. I read those stories in the papers when we were in London and was devastated for you. What are you going to do? I mean, in the long term? Is it true you’re engaged to that prince guy? I mean, the prince. Not Prince, the singer. He’s dead. And what about Tate?”
“Lauren, Jesus Christ,” Kate hisses, swatting her arm. “Don’t be so American and pry. And of course we know Prince is dead.”
“No, it’s okay. I actually don’t mind talking about it. I feel comfortable around all of you. Like you won’t sell me out to the tabloids.” I shrug and stare into my lime-colored drink, the unease of what I’d heard between Tate and his brother still gnawing at my stomach.
“Never,” Kate says, and Lauren shakes her head.
“Well, I sure as shit wouldn’t because Tate would disown me,” Nat jokes, and I laugh.
She holds up her drink, and we touch glasses. “My brother is in love with you. That’s all I know.”
A twinge of awareness goes through me at the mention of Tate’s feelings. “And that’s the thing. I’m falling for him, too.”
I swallow, and three pairs of eyes are staring at me expectantly.
“So what’s the issue?” Lauren says. “You’re both single, you’re both crazy about each other. I don’t see the problem.”
I’d told Nat about my situation with Jacques, but not Kate and Lauren. Somehow, the fact Nat kept my confidence makes me love her even more.
“I have to formally renounce my title as princess. Which isn’t an issue, but it’s going to be a rocky several months while I do that. My parents are going to go ballistic, who knows what Jacques the jerk will do, and the media will swarm. I don’t want Tate to get caught up in all that crap. Especially since he wants to run for office. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Lauren and Kate blink and quickly take long sips of their drinks, obviously agreeing that I’m in a pickle.
Nat snorts. “Jesus. The Hastings men are made of stronger stuff, Izzy-Bella. You let Tate determine what he can handle. All you can do is tell him how you feel, tell the world you don’t want to be a stupid princess anymore, and live your life in peace. Here, with us. We’ve
got your back, girl.”
With that, she tops up our margaritas. We make our way to the pool, and I climb onto an oversized flamingo plastic pool float.
Much to my surprise, my earlier angst lifts as I drink my frozen concoction and bob around the water with the other women. It’s as if I don’t have a care in the world.
Twenty
Isabella
“Isabella Grimmelshausen, I am going to withhold adjudication of your case. In doing so, the charge of wildlife harassment will be dropped, and you will not have a criminal record. I am ordering you to perform one hundred hours of community service on Paradise Beach. Your attorney has indicated that you’re willing to do this at the…” The judge, a fifty-something man with salt-and-pepper hair, shuffles some papers in front of him. “Island Turtle Sanctuary. Is this correct, Ms. Grimmelshausen?”
I stand up extra straight. “That’s correct, your honor. It would be a pleasure to work with that group.”
The judge’s eyes sweep around the court, which is filled with media here to see me and with alleged criminals awaiting their own hearings. Eight scary-looking men with crew cuts, tattoos, and scars are clad in orange prison jumpsuits. They’re sitting in chairs lining one wall of the courtroom.
“Well, that takes care of that. Ms. Grimmelshausen, I’m also imposing a thousand dollar fine, to be paid to the clerk of court. If you do not pay the fine or complete your volunteer work, you’ll be back here before me. You understand, young lady?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I’m a thirty-year-old woman, not a young lady. But whatever. I’m so close to being finished with this nightmare. One of the prisoners winks at me, then wags his tongue lasciviously.
I swallow hard and fail to register my disgust.
The pool press camera—a guy from the local paper who was chosen to take photos of today’s hearing and who will distribute the pictures to everyone in the media—snaps a photo as my face turns scarlet.
