by Susan Hatler
“You know what? I actually regretted choosing work over meeting you, until I saw you making plans with Taylor on the beach yesterday with your lips,” I snapped.
He flinched, and his jaw muscle twitched. “You seem to think you have me all figured out, so I won’t bother explaining. You asked me for a favor, though. Unlike you, I keep my word. If you’d like to know about my lunch with Scotty, just ask. If you’re still interested,” he said.
“Do you think you can beat me, Brody?” Taylor interrupted, putting on a pretty pout.
“Come on,” I said to Wyatt. “Let’s leave them alone and get to the next event.”
We ambled over to where Greta stood with a pile of spoons and a basket of eggs. “Egg races next!” Greta said, in her sing-song voice. Her face glowed, and she really seemed to be enjoying herself. Maybe a sugar effect from all that mint ice-cream? She waved a spoon in the air. “Pass the egg to your partner using the spoon. The only catch is you hold the spoon in your mouth by its handle. The first group to move three eggs from one basket to the other without breaking them wins. Ready, set, go!” she shouted, then blew her pink whistle.
I tried to focus on Wyatt, but as I bit down on the spoon handle—which had a terrible metallic taste, yuck!—my gaze drifted to Brody, and I inadvertently turned my head. The egg Wyatt had passed to me dropped fast, landing in the basket with a splat. Oops. The second did the same. I almost got the third, but I was so focused on Charlie and Brody getting so close that I dropped that egg too, but this one landed on my foot. The yolk oozed through my sandal and in between my toes. So gross.
Groaning, I turned to Wyatt. “I’m sorry for blowing that competition for us. I’ll be right back. Just going to clean off my foot.”
As I walked over to the picnic table on the patio, the egg squished between my toes with a gross, slimy feeling. I was dumping the yellow goo out of my shoe when Brody appeared beside me. “Charlie and I won,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, because I know how competitive you can be. Maybe you’ll win this next one, but I doubt it,” he said, offering a smile.
I gave him a sickly sweet smile. “Well, if this were a kissing contest, I’ll bet you and Taylor would win first place,” I said, then walked away. My stomach roiled from arguing with him, but he was the one who had ruined everything, not me. So I tried to ease the guilt of my snotiness.
As I climbed into the oversized potato sack with Wyatt for the last event, I tried not to pay attention to Brody wrapping his arms around Charlie. Even though I knew she was totally into Wyatt, I couldn’t help but feel jealous. Despite everything, I still wanted Brody’s arms wrapped around me. At least I didn’t have to watch him with Taylor.
“Ready, set, go!” Greta blew her whistle.
We jumped forward. Even though I was determined to win this time and make Brody eat his words, Wyatt and I couldn’t get a rhythm down. We stumbled repeatedly. Amy and Pete passed us, but Brody and Charlie ended up winning by a small margin. They were still celebrating when Greta let out a strangled cry.
“What are you doing here?” Greta’s voice had risen several octaves higher than I thought was possible, and she stood gaping with her mouth open.
We all turned in the direction where she was looking. My heart sank as I saw Scotty crossing the sand. My gaze snapped to Brody’s. “What’s he doing here?” I demanded.
“I tried to tell you,” he said, shrugging. “But you refused to listen to me.”
I watched in horror as Scotty marched toward Greta, wearing a determined look on his face. I should’ve run over and stopped him but my feet were rooted in place. I’d just gotten my boss back to normal, and seeing him would destroy her again. It seemed only fitting when Taylor moved to stand next to Brody, as my dreams of becoming the premiere event planner in Blue Moon Bay went down in flames, along with any hope about Brody and me.
Chapter Twenty-three
The waves pounded against the shore with rhythmic ferocity, sort of like the headache throbbing in my temples. For some reason, I’d thought this Bait Buster event would be a fun last group hurrah since the retreat was coming to an end. Looked like the joke was on me.
Well, and Greta. She gaped openly at Scotty. I thought there was a real possibility she might faint, or crumple into a ball on the sand. Instead, she let out a wail that split through everyone’s conversations. I glanced around and all eyes—both male and female—became focused on Greta and Scotty as they stood on the beach, staring at each other.
I reached out and grabbed Brody’s arm, ignoring Taylor’s gaze on my hand. “What is Scotty doing here?” I hissed. “Can you please get him to leave? We can arrange a time for Greta to sit down with him and talk in private, but right now is not that time.”
“Sorry.” Brody shook his head. “No can do.”
“Greta is going to have another breakdown,” I snapped, as a breeze off the ocean blew my red hair across my face. I pushed my hair back, marveling at how well the windblown look suited Taylor. So not fair.
“Scotty and Greta’s relationship isn’t our business and if it were, I think they should talk.” Brody crossed his arms over his chest, and I tried to ignore the sexy way his well-defined muscles bulged. “Communication can clarify false assumptions people make when they’re too scared to see what’s right in front of them,” he said, arching his brow.
I crossed my arms. Was he hinting at me being scared? “You’re a firefighter, not a psychologist. Nor a bartender either, not that you ever told me why you were working in Scotty’s bar that night.”
He blew out a breath. “I was doing Scotty a favor, since he was doing me a favor by loaning us his beach house for two weeks. That’s all.”
“Now you tell me?” I asked incredulously. How infuriating that he just blurted out the reason after stringing my curiosity out for so long. Just further proof he’d never been the one for me, and that I’d been blinded by his ridiculously good looks. From the expression on Brody’s face, I could tell he felt bad about what was happening to Greta, and for a moment I felt a twinge of guilt for thinking rotten things about him. But then I glanced at Taylor, and my heart hardened. Every lesson Greta had taught us boiled up inside of me. If I’d had a phone booth, I would’ve changed into an appropriate Independent Woman suit with the super power to defeat lame guys who broke women’s hearts. “Well, if you won’t do anything about Scotty then I will,” I said, striding across the sand.
“Greta,” I said, putting myself between Greta and Scotty who were staring at each other. I noted how the group had surrounded them in a wide circle, with some of them whispering back and forth. I slipped my arm around her waist. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said in a low voice.
“Yes, please,” she said, glancing at me through watery eyes. “Why is he here?” Her voice broke as we started to walk away. Then she blinked, brought her brows together, and swiveled on her satin heel to face him. “Why are you here?” she said, her tone harsh.
Was it totally wrong that I wanted to know his answer? My face tensed as I turned toward Scotty, and watched dozens of emotions flicker across his handsome features. He looked like a slightly older version of Brody, and I wondered how many years they had between them, even though this obviously wasn’t the time to be thinking about their age difference.
Scotty took a step toward Greta then stopped, holding his arms wide in a vulnerable gesture. Finally he said in a soft voice, “I still love you.”
Greta trembled in my arms, so I kept hold of her. I wasn’t sure if she considered Scotty’s declaration good news or bad news, though. I mean, we still had the suspicious woman on the boat to worry about. Had Brody talked to Scotty about her yet?
“How can you say you love me?” she asked, letting out a long, aching moan.
“Because it’s true.” He stepped closer, his gaze glued to her eyes. “I’ve read your book, Men: Who Needs Them?, dozens of times. You’ve always been that vibrant, independent woman you wrote about wanting to be. I don’t understand wh
y you had to leave me in order to focus on your career and write that book. You would’ve had my full support.” He bent his head sideways and grimaced. “Well, perhaps with exception to the title.”
Greta pulled away from me and pressed her palms to her forehead. My heart broke for her because I knew how she felt. I’d been cheated on, too. Even with the anger and hurt, there was always that feeling of wanting an apology, or hoping the betrayal wasn’t true.
“I didn’t break up with you to focus on my career.” She threw her arms out in a wide, frightening gesture. Everyone around her drew back a step, including me. Scotty stayed where he was, and she moved closer to him. “I saw you on your boat with that woman,” she said, her words hanging thick in the air, as a collective gasp rang out over the sound of the waves rushing against the shore.
Scotty held his palms up, glancing around with an expression that claimed he had no idea which woman Greta was talking about. Yeah, right, buddy.
Finally, he asked, “What woman, Greta?”
“She was tall, blonde, and well put together.” She thrust a hand to her hip, tossing her short dark hair over her shoulder. “She also wore those four-inch designer stilettos I could never walk in properly, but that’s not the point.” She jabbed her index finger in his direction. “There was no way I could compete with her, and I wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing how you broke my heart!” Greta shouted, her anger alive and well after three years away from him.
“Emily? She was my Realtor,” Scotty said, sounding bewildered.
“The fact that she was your Realtor doesn’t make your affair any better,” Greta said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you’d been a decent man, you would’ve broken up with me first, before making a late night rendezvous on your boat with your mistress.”
My gaze darted to Scotty for his reaction.
His eyes narrowed. “Wait a second . . . you think I cheated on you?”
My gaze shot back to Greta, ready to hear her response.
“Well, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes, and propping her hand back on her hip. “I knew what was going to happen between you and that sexy woman on your boat, so I certainly wasn’t going to stick around to watch.”
Snap! This was a totally inappropriate thought to be having right now, but if Greta included this scene in her next book, she’d have a #1 New York Times Bestseller, for sure. I had no idea how this episode with Scotty would impact the meaning of the retreat, but I knew things would be irrevocably changed.
Greta squeezed her eyes shut, and a stray tear leaked down her cheek. “We were supposed to meet on the boat later that night, but I arrived early to surprise you,” she said, sniffling suddenly. “When I got to the marina and saw you on the boat with that woman . . .”
“Yes, Emily, my Realtor, met me on the boat that night.” He let out a long breath, then moved closer to Greta until they were only inches apart. Everyone in the circle took a stealthy step closer as well. “Emily had the closing papers on my new beach house.” He gestured toward the mansion on the bluff, and I marveled that was his second home. “I had so much to get ready for that special night with you. I wanted to include those papers, so I asked if she’d mind meeting me on the boat with them before you arrived.” He ran a hand through his golden blond hair, rustling the ends so that strands stuck out. “I would never have cheated on you.”
“You really wouldn’t?” Her bottom lip quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Why was that night going to be special for us?”
“If you’d stuck around, you would’ve known,” he said, but there was no accusation in his voice, only sadness. “I wanted to show you the new boat, of course, which I’d named after you.” He reached up, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “I planned to show you the deed to the house I’d bought for us.” He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a small navy box. “And I was going to propose to you with this ring,” he said, opening the box.
This time the gasps around the circle were audible. I glanced at Brody whose gaze was on me, and he gave me a slight nod. Brody knew what had happened that night on the boat. He’d talked to Scotty at lunch, which he’d tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. Sigh. Pressing my lips together, I turned my attention back to Scotty and Greta.
“My rashness has always been my Achilles Heel.” She drew in a shaky breath, covering her mouth with her hand, then shaking her head. “I’m jealous. And I’m flawed, but . . . most of all, I’m so sorry for hurting you. I ruined our relationship, which could’ve grown into something special, and for that I’m ashamed.” She glanced up at the sky, as if searching for some kind of wisdom. “I-I don’t know what to say, Scotty.”
“You can answer me this . . .” He gave her a brief nod, then dropped down on one knee. He removed the ring from its spot in the velvet, and held the piece toward her, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. “Greta von Strand, bestselling author, woman who broke my heart . . .” His voice trailed off, and I saw a glistening tear in his eye. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, the only woman I will ever love, and I know you don’t need a man. But, if you’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life supporting the amazing, independent woman you are . . .” His eyes widened as he took a breath. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Scotty . . .” Greta’s hands were on her cheeks as she gazed down at him. “I still love you, too. So, yes, of course I’ll marry you.”
Scotty’s mouth broke into a huge grin as he slipped the ring on Greta’s finger, and stood. Then, she leapt into his arms like something out of a fairy-tale and pressed her mouth to his in what must’ve been the most long-awaited kiss of a lifetime.
Through teary eyes, I clapped my hands together, then clapping erupted around the circle as Scotty lifted Greta off the ground, and spun her around and around. The joy on their faces felt contagious, only when my gaze latched onto Brody’s, his mouth was set in a tight line. He was looking at me, but he didn’t look pleased.
Chapter Twenty-four
Rough waves continued to pound against the beach, sending salty white foam spraying into the air. Menacing gray clouds bunched low on the horizon, and I knew there was a storm approaching. Greta and Scotty smiled and waved at everyone. Then, the two of them made their way across the sand, hand in hand, toward the stairs leading up to his mansion.
Brody stood no more than fifteen feet away, watching me with a look I couldn’t decipher, but my mind flitted to all of the things he’d said about me not listening to him. I was all too aware that the lack of communication between Greta and Scotty had been their undoing.
The difference between Greta and Scotty, and Brody and me, was that they’d had a whole history before their breakup. Brody and I’d only had a brief flirtation, and one date. One amazing date with hours-long kissing, but still. And, okay, we’d had some amazing moments during the retreat. But our blossoming relationship couldn’t possibly be strong enough to surmount my mistrust, which I now realized had nothing to do with Brody and everything to do with my own insecurities.
Plus, I’d abandoned Brody the night before when we were supposed to meet up. He’d said something was important, too. I still didn’t know what had been important to him since I hadn’t listened to him earlier when he’d tried to talk to me. Not good, Olivia. Not good. And, yeah, the Taylor thing looked bad. But deep down I knew there had to be a good explanation.
Watching Greta and Scotty hiking the stairs, I felt a host of conflicting emotions. I was happy for them—truly happy—but, at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder what their reconciliation meant for the rest of the retreat. All of the women were standing in small clumps trying hard not to be obvious about watching Greta and Scotty. After their spectacular makeup, none of us seemed to know how to proceed.
With blood pounding against my temples, I needed to do something—coming first to mind was apologizing to Brody for icing him out after I saw him with Taylor. I needed to admit he was right about my pencha
nt for assuming the worst. Even if I’d blown our relationship, and he really would rather be with Taylor, I still needed to be honest with him. My gaze connected with Brody’s, and my heart leapt into my throat.
I started toward him, ready to apologize for all I’d done wrong. Whether or not he forgave me would be his choice. I hadn’t walked five feet before Janine appeared in front of me, blocking my path, and waving her arms.
“We need to save The Date Escape.” Her eyes widened and she bounced on her heels. “This is supposed to be an independent women’s retreat, and the hostess just got engaged!”
I glanced at Janine, who seemed on the verge of hysteria, then gripped her shaking shoulders. “Deep breaths, Janine. We’ll figure this out. Okay?”
I turned toward Brody in time to see him shake his head, then turn and walk away. My stomach coiled. This was my moment, the one that would define my priorities in life. I could feel the weight of the choice, like my soul would rip in half one way or the other. I could either choose my beloved career, or I could choose the man who held my heart.
Despite my hard work on this retreat, I knew what my choice would be. I’d connected with someone who completed me by being my equal, and I wasn’t about to let him go without a fight. I knew if I lost him, there would be a hole in my life I could never fill.
“Brody, wait!” My voice was absorbed by the gust of wind and the crash of waves against the shore. If he’d heard me, he didn’t stop and whirl around. He just kept walking toward the stairs. With an urgency I felt vibrating through every nerve in my body, I turned back to Janine. “You’re going to have to run things here for now. I have something I have to do.”
“But, I can’t,” Janine spluttered, clasping her hands together in prayer position. “Honestly, I haven’t been to my therapist in weeks and I kind of downplayed those breakdowns I thought Wendy had told you about. You’re the mastermind behind this retreat, and Greta is . . . busy. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is too much pressure for me. I can’t handle the stress.”
