Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1)

by T. K. Rapp

  FUMBLED

  The Girls of Beachmont ~ Book 1

  by T.K. Rapp

  © Copyright Notice

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, T.K. Rapp.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover Design by Amy Queau & T.K. Rapp

  Edited by Amy Jackson

  Cover Images Courtesy ~ Krivosheev Vitaly & conrado/Bigstock.com

  Copyright © 2015 T.K. Rapp

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN: B018WF8QDW

  Dedication

  Spence. I love you.

  Always.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  C h a p t e r 1

  D A N I

  “No no no no no!” I shouted as I twisted my hands on the steering wheel.

  I hoped I had imagined the rumbling coming from the back end of my black 1957 Bel Air, but then the wobbling started. I pulled over in an old neighborhood and grumbled as I shut the door behind me with more force than necessary. I checked the back tires first, but found nothing. It wasn’t until I examined the front passenger side that I noticed a large screw sticking out.

  “Figures,” I said aloud, kicking the flat tire as if that would actual help anything. It was the icing on the cake to an already shitty day.

  My boss, the principal, had informed me thirty minutes before I I’d left for home that my after-school program, River’s Kids, lacked the funding it needed for another school year. My entire summer was going to be spent finding backers and donations, which meant my “vacation” would likely be put on hold. That is, if I wanted the kids to have something to do the next year.

  I stared at the screw protruding from the black rubber and willed it to disappear. Alas, I would not be a Jedi today. I’d have to fix the tire myself.

  Fortunately, my dad taught my sister Grace and I how to change a flat long before we were allowed to drive. My luck had run out, as I had never changed a flat until that moment.

  “Dear God, please let me remember how to do this,” I muttered as I gathered my hair into a messy ponytail.

  I took a few deep breaths to calm my frayed nerves. But it didn’t help. It was after five in the afternoon and the warm California sun caused my clothes to cling to me in the worst way. Or maybe it was my irritation with the circumstances I found myself in that made my temperature high.

  The tools I needed were in a box in the trunk, prepared by my dad a long time ago. I removed the cotton shrug I wore over my thin white tank and tossed it into the back.

  “All I wanted to do was go home, open a bottle of wine, and binge-watch Cake Wars. Is that too much to ask?” I grumbled to myself.

  A blue sedan slowed as it passed by, but quickly sped off before offering to help.

  I narrowed my eyes, resisting the urge to flip him off. “No. Really, it’s fine. I’ve got this,” I said sarcastically, as if the driver could hear me or even cared. “May your practical piece of shit overheat and die.”

  Funnily enough, being snarky and bitter toward a complete stranger made me smile, shifting my mood slightly. I kept up the charade as a few other cars continued to do the same, none stopping to help.

  Fifteen minutes of fake reassurances that the lug nuts were getting looser didn’t improve my situation. I knew I was screwed. The stupid bolts had to be welded in place. That was the only explanation for why I was unable to remove them. I worked out daily, could bench-press sixty pounds, seventy-five if I was spotted. It should have been easy.

  “Come. On,” I grunted, pulling one way and pushing another. “Stupid piece of shit!”

  I threw the tire iron on the ground and jumped out of the way when it bounced. The last thing I needed was a bruise because I was a clumsy dumbass. I kicked the black rubber before wiping my hand across my face to move the stray auburn hair that clung to my forehead. My knees were blackened from the dirty asphalt and my hands were covered in brownish muck.

  I was a complete mess.

  I wiped my hands on my thighs and sat down on the curb, preparing to call my dad to drive over and save me.

  “Do you need some help?” a low voice asked.

  The sun blazed down, obstructing my view. Not even shielding my eyes seemed to help. All I could make out was a towering shadow a few feet away that was intimidating as hell. A gray Range Rover was parked behind him across the street, and I assumed it belonged to Mr. Tall-and-Helpful. He squatted down next to the tire, giving me an unobstructed view of him.

  He wore gold-rimmed aviators and a baseball cap that hid his face well. But his full lips that were curved into a smirk had me entranced. I tried to avert my eyes to anywhere but his lips, knowing that he might be able to see exactly what I was thinking.

  I cleared my throat and dropped my gaze, and it landed on the white T-shirt clinging to his chest. His pecs were straining beneath the thin material and it dawned on me as I continued to look him over that his muscles appeared to be bulging everywhere. Hell, his neck was probably the same size as one of my thighs.

  After my breakup with Philip the year before, I’d sworn to myself that I would never rely on a man again—even for something as small as a tire change.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a man-hater by any means. I loved men. But I’d depended on Philip so heavily that I’d started to lose myself in the process. Once I’d found me again, I didn’t want to let go.

  But sometimes you need help, whether you want to admit it or not.

  “I—I’ll be fine,” I lied, scrambling to my feet to give me some distance. I had a better view of the guy and I was unable to say anything more. Mr. Tall-Helpful-and-Sexy let out a disarming huff and it shook me from my perusal of his body.

  “I’m sure you will,” he said before stepping around me, picking up the tire iron, and pointing to the flat.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “I’ve only been trying for the last fifteen minutes.”

  “I know.” He smirked as he placed it over the lug nut. With one strong push, he loosened it.

  “You know?” I questioned, laughing softl
y. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Looked like you were determined to do it alone. Didn’t want to step on your toes,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.

  “Oh,” was all I could say in response.

  His hands moved swiftly, removing the rest of the lug nuts and setting them aside. I was fascinated at how easy the whole thing was for him, and I was grateful for his help.

  “I’m Tabor,” he said as he put the car jack in place.

  “Dani,” I answered. “And thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  He flashed a smile over his shoulder before he turned back to the tire. I touched my hair and realized I probably looked like a frazzled mess. Sweat was running down my spine, my clothes were smudged with dirt and grime, and I was pretty sure my mascara was trudging into raccoon territory.

  “So do you make it a daily ritual to scour the neighborhood for damsels in distress, or do you happen to live around here?” I asked, though it came out rude and not playful as I intended.

  I was grateful for his help, but it wasn’t coming through in my tone. My friends always told me my sarcastic, dry personality was off-putting, and when I wanted to rein it in, I failed miserably.

  “Are you asking me if I come here often?” His eyebrow arched slightly over his sunglasses suggestively and he laughed as I stared at him feeling mortified.

  My cheeks flushed at his response and I shook my head, thankful that he didn’t seem to mind my tone. I truly suck at flirting. Is that what I’m doing? Flirting?

  “Nope,” he grunted, removing the tire completely and not embarrassing me further. “Just happened to be passing by.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he gave me a lopsided smile before rolling the spare into place.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Have I met you before?” I asked before smacking my forehead with my hand.

  Shut. Up. Dani. You sound like an idiot. He already insinuated that you were coming onto him.

  “I mean, I don’t think I have, I’ve never met anyone named Tabor before. That’s an interesting name. I—I mean, you just look familiar,” I said, wishing the verbal vomit would stop.

  His shoulders shook in amusement and I wished I could see his eyes. I didn’t like that he was able to disguise himself so well, while everything I was thinking was painfully obvious.

  “Is that a nice way of saying my name is weird?” he challenged.

  “No. Not at all. I really like your name. It’s just…different—good different—I mean, it’s unique…” I said, shaking my head and smiling. “Forget it. I’m going to shut up now.”

  “I’m just kidding,” he said, turning back to tire in front of him. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t met before. I think I’d remember that face,” he said with a tone that stole my breath.

  Damn.

  I tried not to watch the muscles in his back constrict with every tug and push on the lug nuts, and had to resist the urge to lean in closer.

  Yep, flirting. Totally flirting.

  “Well, thanks again for doing this. I really did have it,” I added, hating that I was being “rescued” by some random guy who thought I was hitting on him. I wanted to explain that I didn’t need help, that I could do it on my own. But before he’d walked up to help, I was seconds from calling Dad anyway.

  “I think you loosened it for me,” he finally said, looking up at me. His mouth quirked up on one side and I imagined there was a wink that went along with it.

  He turned his hat backwards as he continued working. His short blond hair stuck out beneath the opening in the cap, contrasting against his light skin. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes behind his sunglasses, but if they were blue, I was a goner.

  “I’m pretty sure I did.” I grinned.

  This Tabor guy had the smirk and compliments down to a science—or maybe it had been too long since I’d been on the receiving end. Regardless, I was beginning to enjoy his attention, a fact that shocked me.

  “So what do you do, Dani?”

  “No way, you’re a complete stranger, I’m not telling you that. What if you’re a stalker or something, and then I’m the idiot who told you exactly how and where to find me?”

  “I’m changing your tire. Pretty sure that means I’m a nice guy.”

  “You think…but Ted Bundy was pretty smooth too,” I answered, raising a brow. “What if you planted a line of nails six blocks that way and then hung out in your SUV, just waiting for your next victim?”

  He smiled. “Was that a backhanded compliment? Smooth, but creepy?”

  “I’m just saying,” I said with a shrug.

  “I promise, I’m not a murderer.” He chuckled, and I died a little. That laugh flustered my inner sensibilities and made me want to say something funny to hear it again. Stupid, hot laugh.

  “All right, point taken. You shouldn’t trust me,” he said. “You already know my name. What else do you want to know?”

  I laughed and raised a brow. “Who said I wanted to know anything?”

  “Ouch, my ego,” he answered, placing a hand over his heart.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I teased. “You have that whole big-muscle, tough-guy thing going for you.”

  I was only teasing him, but the longer the silence continued the more awkward it became. He picked up the tire and began working to fix it again.

  He stayed silent, letting the quiet afternoon hang thickly in the air between us while he glanced back at me with a soft smile on his lips. I was the first to look away, with embarrassment flooding my cheeks. I felt like a jerk for wearing my emotions on my sleeve once again.

  “So you’re a teacher, huh?”

  “How’d you guess?” I asked, stunned.

  His muscles flexed as he slid the spare into place, but I quickly looked away before I could be caught ogling.

  “My mom’s a teacher, too. She’s the only person I know that has that many papers in the back of her car. What grade do you teach?”

  “Seventh,” I said.

  “You didn’t just get off work, did you?”

  “Sort of. I run an after-school program for at-risk teens. Today was our last day before the summer break.”

  “That’s really cool,” he said, flashing me another smile. It took only minutes for him to fasten the lug nuts and finish up. He wiped his hands on his jeans and I felt bad that he’d messed up a perfectly nice pair of pants. “So where do you teach?” he asked.

  “I think I’ve already said too much,” I said, my cheeks flaming hot as if he’d read my mind. “I have no idea who you are.”

  The moment the words came out of my mouth, he cocked his head to the side as if he knew something I didn’t. Standing, he towered over me and I felt insignificant next to him. As I ran through a mental database to see if I’d ever met him before, I kept coming up blank. I wanted to see his eyes. You can tell a lot about a man by his eyes. But Tabor had yet to remove his sunglasses.

  Finally, his smile returned. “Then let me take you out and you can get to know me.”

  My lips parted and I was a little stunned by the offer. But I kept my cool and straightened my posture, plastering a grin on my face. “Does that line really work?” I asked coyly.

  “You’re not gonna cut me any slack, are you?” He wiped his hands on his jeans once more and stuck out his hand. “Tabor Hunter. Nice to meet you.”

  Strange name.

  I stared at his hand for longer than necessary and tried not to let my curiosity get to me, but it was pointless.

  “Dani Miner, teacher. But you already knew that.” I laughed softly as I stretched out my hand. His large hand enveloped mine in warmth and I felt a tingle run the length of my arm and straight to my chest. His fingers were rough, dirty, and in any other situation I probably would’ve tried to take my hand back as quickly as possible. But we both lingered a little too long, and by the warm smile on his face, he’d noticed too.

  “So?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “So what?”r />
  “Are you going to let me take you out?”

  He was still hanging onto my hand and I fought like hell to quell the screaming girlie hormones that were going crazy inside me. It was unreasonable to feel that sort of attraction to someone I’d just met.

  Well not completely unreasonable. He was ridiculously gorgeous, after all. But the attraction didn’t just have to do with looks, I could admit. It was something else.

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “Your eyes,” I said.

  “My eyes,” he repeated slowly before finally releasing my hand and crossing his arms over his broad chest. His muscles strained beneath his T-shirt and he smirked at my request. I tugged at my lip, waiting.

  “No eyes, no date,” I added, crossing my arms and mimicking his posture.

  Tabor exhaled and his smile faded slightly as he removed his sunglasses.

  He cocked his head to the side and gave a small smile. “Did I pass?”

  I tried to keep my face neutral and impassive as I cleared my throat and fought the urge to giggle. I was never that chick, and yet Barbie was about to burst from my psyche in the form of twirling my hair and batting my lashes—like my name was Mandi, and I always dotted my i’s with little hearts and carried a tiny dog in my oversized Gucci bag.

  I was so that chick.

  My pulse was picking up pace and I wanted to slap myself. But I couldn’t help it. His hazel eyes were breathtaking, and by the smug look on his face, he knew the effect he was having on me.

  They’re just eyes, I told myself. Get a grip.

  Besides, he’s just a guy.

  Just a regular nice guy.

  With a rippling chest.

  Eyes that a girl could get lost in.