Bayside Desires (Bayside Summers Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  “We were told to take down these walls.”

  She and Rick bolted upright at the sound of deep male voices followed by more barking.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

  “No!” She scrambled to her feet, searching for her underwear as Rick stretched.

  He peered over the railing. “I think your mother’s contractors have arrived. Those are Cape Renovators trucks. They do excellent work.”

  “I wonder what work she’s scheduled.” She tossed one blanket into the air after another. “Do you have my underwear?”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “No, but I’m pretty sure they won’t know you don’t have any on. But now that I remember…” He slid a hand beneath her dress and squeezed her bottom.

  “I can’t go down there without them!” She twisted out of his arms, and he hauled her back, grinning as she tried to wriggle free. “Rick! Don’t you hear Cosmos going crazy? I need to get inside.”

  “Violet had to let them in, right?” He brushed her hair from in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as she peered around him, scanning the floor for her underwear. “This is our first morning together, and we only get to experience this very special moment once in our entire lives. I know you’re frazzled, and I hear Cosmos, and the guys, but I’m pretty sure nothing bad will happen in the next sixty seconds while I say good morning to my beautiful girl.”

  Her eyes met his, and her frantic heart took notice, slowing her down enough to realize how romantic he was being. She inhaled deeply, blowing it out slowly and smiling. “Hi.”

  “There’s my girl. Good morning, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to hers. “It was nice being close to you last night.”

  “Very nice.” She wound her arms around his waist, glad she’d taken a break to soak in his goodness but still thinking about the people in the house. “But…”

  “No worries. Let’s find those missing panties, and then we’ll go down.” He made quick work of shaking out and folding up the blankets. When he shook the last one, her panties flew up in the air. She snagged them and put them on. Three minutes later they were standing face to face with three burly men—and one very amused Violet—on the third floor of the house.

  “Well, well, well,” Violet said, sidling up to Desiree. “I thought you stayed out last night.” She leaned in close and whispered, “What kind of fuckery was going on upstairs?”

  “Violet!” Desiree felt her cheeks flame. She scooped Cosmos up, trying to settle him, and herself, down. She shot a look at Rick, who was stifling a grin and shaking his head.

  Stepping away from Violet, Desiree turned her attention to the oldest of the three men, hoping they hadn’t heard her sister’s comment. “Hi. I’m Desiree Cleary, Violet’s sister, and this is my boyfriend, Rick Savage.” It felt good to call Rick her boyfriend. Really good. “You’re here to do the renovations?”

  “That’s right. Rob Wicked and sons at your service.” He took off his baseball cap, revealing a shock of black hair, flecked with silver. A friendly smile stretched across his face. “These are my boys, Zeke and Zander.”

  One of his sons flashed a cocky smile and thrust out his hand. “Zeke Wicked. Nice to meet you.”

  He had the same thick black hair as his father and bright blue eyes like his brother, who was busy lusting over Violet in her bikini top and shorts. Maybe Desiree should take her clothes shopping.

  “Hi. I’m Zander.” With a rake of his hand, he pushed his longish brown hair away from his face and winked at Violet.

  Zeke elbowed him, and Zander grinned.

  Violet narrowed her eyes as if she were putting him through some sort of mental test. His smile never faltered. He obviously wasn’t afraid of failing.

  This should be fun. “I guess you guys have already started in the studio?”

  “The studio?” Rob put his hat back on. “You mean the room with all the painting supplies? No, ma’am. We have strict orders not to step foot in that room until the two of you give us directions on what you’d like done.”

  Desiree looked curiously at Violet.

  “Don’t look at me,” Violet said. “I have no idea what she’s asked them to do.”

  “I can give you the rundown. Starting on this floor, we’re taking down these walls.” Rob pointed to the walls that separated the hall from the bedrooms. “On the second floor, we’re combining the two front bedrooms into one, and on the first floor, we’re removing the wall between the dining room and the kitchen and—”

  “What?” Desiree looked at Violet again. “No.”

  “You can’t do that,” Violet said. “This house has been this way forever. It’s practically historic. You can’t change the structure.”

  “Can we put this process on hold?” Desiree asked. “We thought you were here to fix drywall and, I don’t know. The kitchen and bathrooms, maybe? And I guess you already renovated the widow’s walk, which is gorgeous, by the way.”

  “They did?” Violet asked.

  “Yes, and it’s beautiful,” Desiree said as Violet plowed past her and headed upstairs to the widow’s walk.

  “Zander and I finished that up last week,” Zeke said with a proud smile.

  “Rob,” Rick intervened. “Desiree and Violet have just been thrown into managing this project, and the house has sentimental value to them. Would you mind if they take a look at the contract and design plans before you get started?”

  Desiree was relieved that he’d stepped in. Her mind was running in too many directions to speak rationally.

  Violet came down from the widow’s walk raving about how awesome it was, took one look at Desiree, and said, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to let anything else happen.”

  Zeke and Zander left, and Rob stayed to review the plans. After going over the proposed renovations, it became clear that the house would no longer even feel like Summer House Inn. This was another piece of her family that her mother could take away. Maybe Lizza hadn’t finished the widow’s walk for Desiree after all. Maybe it was all just part of the general renovations, to bring Summer House Inn back to life so she could sell it.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Desiree finally said. “Rob, can we cancel the contract?”

  Rob shook his head. “I’m sorry, Desiree, but we’ve already had the structural drawings done, and there’s a no-cancellation clause in the contract. The good news is that Ms. Vancroft did say that if you two wanted changes, we had her permission to work with you, within the confines of the monetary contract. But the bad news is that our architect is backed up for five weeks. So, I’m afraid if you decide to make changes to the plans, we may need to wait to get started closer to the end of the summer.”

  Panic gripped her. “Vi, if they start when Lizza’s here, she’ll make all of these changes.”

  “I know you have to get back to teach,” Violet said. “But I’ll stay, and I won’t let her destroy the house.”

  Rick took Desiree’s hand. “Sweetheart, I’m a licensed architect. I can do the drawings for you and Violet and have them done quickly.”

  She wanted to leap into his arms, but she didn’t want to be an imposition. “You’re finishing your own renovations at the resort. Are you sure you have time? And what will it cost?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it will cost,” Violet said. “I’ll sell everything I own. Except my bike. No way. Or maybe you’ll take a few nights on the widow’s walk with Des as payment?”

  “Violet!” Desiree covered her face.

  Violet splayed her hands. “I’m just thinking of creative financing.”

  “Nobody needs creative financing, and you’re not selling anything,” Rick assured them. “I’ll make the time, and we’ll get this all worked out.”

  RICK CROUCHED BESIDE the bookshelves he was building in the new recreation center later that afternoon and eyeballed the level. Perfect. He pushed to his feet as Drake came down the h
all.

  “The old place doesn’t look too shabby, does it? You have to admit, we make a great team,” Drake said.

  “We’ve done a hell of a job. Once we get furniture, stock it with games and books, it’ll be a great gathering place. The patio and fire pit will really make it, though. Put on a holiday event, advertise it during the weeks before and during the Oyster Festival to get the word out. If we advertise it well enough, we should be pulling in solid bookings by year three.” Winters were harsh on the Cape, and tourism was almost nonexistent then, but they’d winterized the cottages with the hopes of making their mark as a Cape winter destination. “And if not, we’ve lost nothing by ridding ourselves of the restaurant overhead and headaches.”

  “I agree. Like I said, we make a great team.” Drake gave him the look. The one that said, You know you want to stay.

  Rick didn’t respond. Drake had been on him to move back for good ever since he arrived last year. When they’d first bought the resort, Rick had agreed to stick around until it was fully renovated, which should have been this past March. But they’d made a last-minute decision to turn the restaurant into a recreation center, and he’d agreed to stay and handle the renovations. He had a feeling the late decision had been driven by Drake’s wanting him to stick around. If Drake knew how hard Rick was falling for Desiree, he’d try to use that to get him to stay, too.

  “Guess things went well last night?” Drake was relentless. “You missed our run this morning.”

  Rick moved to the other side and began securing a shelf to the wall. “Yeah, we had a good time. Thanks for lending me your guitar.”

  “No worries. You need all the help you can get to turn a girl on.” Drake smirked.

  “You realize I have tools in my hand, right?”

  Drake laughed. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had a girlfriend. Everyone really liked her.” He grabbed a shelf and set it in the bookcase they’d installed earlier.

  “I had no doubt they would.”

  “Bring her sailing Friday night with Pete and Jenna? Pete’s father is watching Bea and we’re going out around ten.” Pete and Jenna were Matt’s brother and sister-in-law, and Bea was their almost-four-year-old little girl. “Mira’s waiting to hear back from Mom to see if she can babysit Hagen so they can go, too. It’ll be fun. Dean and Serena are going.”

  “Sorry. I’m taking Desiree out. I was hoping you could help me get a few things set up on the dunes.” He’d been thinking about it all morning, as they’d walked around her house and made a list of the things she and Violet wanted to change. Renovating the kitchens and bathrooms and replacing some of the windows were the biggest aspects of the project; the rest was cosmetic—drywall, paint, replace a few fixtures. They even wanted the hardwood to remain scuffed to retain the home’s character. Depending on the fixtures and appliances they chose, the renovations should come out to be less than the initial budget. He’d have a talk with Rob on their behalf when it was time, and ensure they received whatever money remained. They’d also checked the fence off of the kitchen, where Violet had let Cosmos out yesterday morning. But they hadn’t found any missing pickets, holes, or cracks the pup could fit through. Cosmos, it seemed, was as elusive as Desiree’s mother.

  “The dunes?” Drake laughed. “Not exactly your usual date.”

  “There’s nothing usual about Desiree, and I don’t have a ‘usual’ date.”

  “Sailing is more romantic than the dunes. Come on. Change your plans?” Drake stroked his jaw. With two or three-days’ scruff, he looked even more like their father. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Rick crossed his arms, meeting Drake’s serious gaze. “Like what? Like you’re pressuring me to do something I don’t want to?” The familiar stare-down ensued. How many years would it take for Drake to back off? How long will it take before I can stop seeing Dad when I look at him?

  Mimicking his brother’s stance, Drake planted his legs like tree trunks and crossed his arms. “You haven’t gone sailing with us once since you got back.”

  “I’ve been a little busy.” He motioned toward the stairs. “I’m heading up to”—escape your pressure—“check out the tiles in the bathroom and make sure they set properly.” They’d renovated the second floor into an apartment.

  “I’ll go with you.” Drake followed him up. “Mira and Serena said you looked at Desiree like you were totally into her.”

  “Yeah? Like you look at Serena?” He crossed the living room and went down the hall to the master bathroom. Eyeing the tiles, he wished Drake would back off.

  “You have to get past this.”

  “No idea what this is.” Rick moved through the spacious bathroom, checking the shower tiles, the caulk lines, anything to keep from looking at Drake.

  “Rick. You haven’t gone sailing since Dad died.”

  “What are you, my therapist?” He pushed past Drake and headed down the hall, into the other bathroom. “It’s not like I have time, or live on the water when I’m in DC. Hell, I’m lucky if I get home before eight or nine most nights.”

  “Look at me,” Drake demanded in the commanding eldest-brother voice he’d adopted in the years after their father died.

  Rick spun around, sure his eyes were casting daggers. “What?”

  “Why do you think you’re fighting moving back here with your family, where you belong?”

  “I have a business to run. I don’t have time to dick around on the water like you do.” Rick held his brother’s stare.

  “You did that, Rick. You make yourself work all the time.”

  No shit. Think I want to talk about it? “Why is it perfectly acceptable that you own music stores off the Cape and travel for them, but my business being out of state is an issue?”

  “Because I didn’t stop doing one of the things I loved most when Dad died.”

  Something inside Rick snapped. He closed the gap between them, and years of rage and hurt came flying out. “You’re right. I haven’t gone sailing. Big fucking deal. Is that the measure of a life well lived? If I’ve fucking sailed or not? I can’t help it. It sucks, but every goddamn time I think about going on that boat, on any fricking sailboat, I remember how much he loved it, and it fucking kills me.”

  “Rick…” The concern and love in Drake’s eyes warred with the ghost swimming between them, and there was nothing his brother could do to slay it.

  Only Rick could do that. “I don’t have time for this.” He needed to get Desiree’s drawings done.

  He pushed past Drake, descending the stairs at a fast clip, and stormed down to his cottage. Memories of that awful night lurked like villains as he worked on the drawings late into the night.

  Still wired from the conversation several hours later, he rolled up the completed designs, hopped in his truck, and drove down to the marina, determined to do something, though he didn’t exactly know what. He noticed Desiree’s sandals on the floor of the truck, and his chest constricted.

  It was after midnight. The restaurants and shops were closed. A few stray cars were parked by the pier. A couple stood by the boathouse kissing, and Rick’s mind sped straight to Desiree. She’d texted earlier. Hope you’re having fun with the guys. Miss you! She’d made his night and distracted him from his argument with Drake for a little while. But even thoughts of his brave, beautiful girl couldn’t quiet the ghosts as he crossed the parking lot, shoulders rounded, hands pushed deep in his pockets, eyes locked on the pavement, and I can do this running through his mind like a mantra.

  That awful night came rushing back in an angry flash of the boom carrying his father overboard, and Rick froze. With his heart in his throat, he turned back toward the truck, determined to outrun the memories.

  You chicken motherfucker.

  He grimaced, uttered a curse, and headed for the marina again. His pulse raced so fast he thought he might pass out. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool air as he forced his legs to carry him forward. He was vaguely aware of the coupl
e he’d seen kissing driving away, leaving him alone in his tortured state. More memories crashed over him—Drake holding him back, their voices disappearing in the rain as the angry sea swallowed their father.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He paced, pushed both hands into his hair and clutched his head in a futile attempt to stop the memories from flooding in. He took three long strides toward the truck and stopped. Goddamn it.

  His mind reeled back in time again as he stood there shaking, unable to move forward. He’d stood here before. First a number of years ago and then again a few months ago. He’d stood in this same place, staring down the ghosts of his past. He hadn’t been able to face them then. Why did he think he could do it now?

  Life takes you where you need to be, when you need to be there.

  He started as the memory hit him. He’d almost forgotten the woman who had said that to him. She had been sitting on the dock drawing the night he’d come out a few months ago. They’d talked for a long time about what it was like to miss the people they loved. And he’d made a comment about not knowing why he’d thought he could deal with it. It was her response about timing and life that brought Drake’s voice back to him now.

  Why do you think you’re fighting moving back here with your family, where you belong?

  Why, after all this time, was Drake pushing him so hard? Why am I pushing myself? He knew those answers. They were easy compared to the turmoil of uncertainty consuming him. For the first time in years he’d spent long stretches of time with his family and friends, instead of hiding behind mounds of work miles away. He’d laughed more over the last several months than he had in a decade. He’d gotten a chance to live again, and he’d met someone who touched him in a way that made him want to slow down. Only slowing down on the Cape meant dealing with his demons, and he wasn’t sure who he’d be when, or if, he came out the other side.

  He spun around one more time, staring down at the boats tethered to their moorings. They were imprisoned, just as he was shackled to his past. He shifted his eyes to the other side of the marina, thinking of Desiree. Wasn’t his confession enough for one twenty-four-hour period? Confessions, he reminded himself. Being honest with Drake would surely cause his touchy-feely brother to want to talk about it ad nauseam. He wasn’t any better prepared for that than he was for what he’d set out to do tonight.