The beast falls over, his legs rigid and extended. He’s rolling in the surf like a furry log, and I’m running at top speed out the back door and down the stairs. Mrs. C is on the back porch with her bird on her shoulder as she arranges paints near her easel.
I dash past her and she jerks back, holding the wall for support. “Slow your roll!” she calls out, but I don’t stop to explain. I have a goat to save.
“Fucking teenagers!” the bird squawks loudly.
Ashton hasn’t moved, but when she hears me shouting her name, her head pops up. “What’s wrong?” she calls, rising to her feet.
I point to the ocean, where all I can see are four hooves sticking up like tree limbs in the surf.
“Goat’s in the water!” I yell, but the wind takes most of my voice.
She doesn’t seem to hear me, and she’s frowning as I fly past. I only vaguely register her following me.
“Jean Claude!” she screams. “Oh. My. God. That stupid, damn animal!”
My shoes are off as I dive into the surf. There’s not a minute to lose if I’m going to save him. The water is warm and salty, and thankfully I’m a strong swimmer. The surf is blasting in my face with each stroke. I grasp the rigid form, and I can’t tell if he’s dead or alive as I tug him under my arm and start for the shore.
He’s frozen in some position of goat-fear. Still, I manage to keep his head above the water. I swim us both to safety, and once I can stand, I carry him like goat Cinderella to the shore.
Ashton waits at the edge for us, hands on her hips. “Is he alive or dead?”
I don’t have a clue. The damn thing must weigh fifty pounds. I sink to my knees and lower him gently to the sand. Water drips off me as I lean into his face to check him out. He blinks slowly and lets out a long exhale. I guess he held his breath while he played dead?
“He’s alive.” I gasp, still winded from the swim.
“I don’t know if I’m happy or sad.” A grin flits across her face as she stares down at him.
I give him a little poke, and it seems to startle him into spryly jumping up as if nothing even happened. With a loud bleat, he gives us both a glare as he shakes like a dog then attempts to trot up the shore in the direction of the little hill leading to the house.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Ashton runs after the mongrel, and I’m so exhausted all I can do is watch.
I’m just thankful I don’t have to perform CPR on a fucking goat.
One thing’s for sure, staying here is going to be an adventure.
Eight
Ashton
Few things in life are as jaw-dropping amazing as Jax Roland emerging from the surf, muscles bulging, water running down the lines of his face, dripping from the ends of his hair… Jean Claude van Ram a rigid brown log in his arms, legs extended.
Okay, that last part I could’ve done without.
It takes less than a minute after he puts that asshole goat on the ground for JC to jump up and head straight for the shrub roses. I don’t even have time to say thank you before I’m charging up the hill after him.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
My overwhelming sadness at the prospect of losing Granny’s house, even my semi-gratitude toward Jax for averting Lulu’s anger over letting her precious goat drown, are forgotten in the race to save my grandmother’s flowers. In addition to the house, they feel like my final connection to her, the plants she lovingly cultivated every year in her funny hat.
“Did you see that?” Mrs. C meets me at the gate. “He charged down there like Adonis heading into battle. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so stimulated. Reminds me of the time Mr. C talked me into taking a bite of a serrano pepper.”
I don’t have time to correct her Greek mythology or even ask why Mr. C was always taunting her with hot peppers. “Where did that bastard go?”
She jumps back, confused. “Rufus? I put him in his cage. It was time for his nap.”
“Jean Claude! He’ll eat everything!” Pushing past her, I continue running around the house, weighing my concern about Lulu’s anger versus killing that goat with my bare hands.
When I finally make it to the top of the hill, I see him, standing on the porch, his head plunged into the middle of my sweet olive, chomping away.
“Stop, you heartless bastard!” I catch him by the collar and drag him out of the deep-green leaves.
I look around, trying to decide what I’m going to do now. This jerk already chewed through the rope Lulu tied him with.
“Ashton.” The deep voice pulls my attention to the top of the path.
Jax stands there looking all of sexy with his tee stretched over his broad chest and his wet hair pushed back from his face. In his hand is a silver hook and a thin cable.
“What is that?” I drag the goat to where Jax is standing.
“I had it in the trunk of my car. It’s from a job I was doing. The owners had really big dogs.”
“He can get out of anything. I told Lulu not to bring him here again.”
“Lulu’s your friend?” He comes to where I’m standing and clips the hook through a loop on JC’s collar.
“Possibly ex-best friend.”
“You can’t really tether goats.” He gently extends the silver cable into the yard. From the soaked back pocket of his shorts, he pulls a metal stake. I watch as he loops the other end around it and pushes it into the ground. “How long do you expect to babysit him?”
“She’s got one hour left. Then we’re digging a pit. Roasted goat is delicious.”
The ripple of laughter from Jax’s throat does funny things to my insides, and I try to remind myself I’m super pissed off… only, I’m not sure why. My head is so mixed up from last night to today to talking to Ben to feeling desperate about the future. I feel like I’m on an emotional rollercoaster, and I don’t know what direction it’s going to take me next.
“Listen, I’m really sorry.” Shaking my head, I catch up with everything that just transpired. “You didn’t have to run into the ocean and save him like that.”
He presses his fingers to his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “I wish you’d said that earlier. Not that I’m the type to watch an animal drown…”
“Why did you save him?” Tilting my head to the side, I try to understand this sexy man who melted my panties one minute and squished my dreams the next. Who ran into the surf to save a dumb beast, and who could potentially be my knight in shining armor against my brother.
He shrugs, shaking his head. “I-I don’t know. I guess I saw you sitting on the beach… I just thought you’ve lost so much. I didn’t want you to lose any more.”
“What makes you think I’ve lost something?” He looks like he’s said too much, and I hold up a hand. “You know what? Just forget it. Lulu will appreciate you saving her ram.”
“I hate to argue, but that guy is a goat.”
“Yes, but Jean Claude van Goat isn’t as catchy as Jean Claude van Ram.”
Jax’s expression is thoroughly confused, but his voice is gentle. “Either way, I didn’t do it for Lulu. I did it for you.”
I study him.
As much as I don’t want to do it, I compare him to Kyle. My ex-fiancé acted like he cared about my feelings. He did things he said were for me, but I clearly recall walking into his dental office that evening only to find him getting drilled—and not by a dental tool.
Suctioned is more like it.
Whatever. The last thing I’m interested in is getting mixed up with another guy. The best thing to do is change the subject.
“Where do we stand on the rehab?” I ask.
He puts his hands on his hips, and his shoulders appear even broader. “I just got off the phone with my producer, and we should be able to cover everything with sponsorships.”
My eyes grow wider, and I cover my mouth with both hands. “What are you saying?”
“We’ll have to cut some corners, but not structurally. I won’t use an assistant, so you’ll have to be out fr
ont at times, following my directions.” His eyes rove over me. “You’re naturally photogenic—and genuine—so I don’t see a problem there.”
I feel my cheeks getting pink. “Okay, but what? That means—”
“That means we’re going to do everything on your list, and hopefully nothing pops up we haven’t planned for.” He pauses for a moment. “I had this crazy idea of redoing the sitting area, you know, since it’s the first room everyone sees. With just a few, inexpensive touches—and maybe some furniture rehabbing on your part—we can give it more of a beachy feel.”
“Really?” My voice goes high.
He nods. “I was thinking we’d paint the walls a soft white, maybe put in an updated lime green and blue rug. I actually get a big discount at Home Goods if I mention them on the show. I can get decor for almost nothing. As for the piano… Would you consider giving it a distressed finish? I mean, if you want.” He shrugs and looks at me sheepishly. “Am I going too far? I tend to do that when I get something in my head.”
Elation flies over me. I’ve been dying to update the entire house since the day I moved in six months ago. I jump forward, but I catch myself before I pull him into another unprofessional hug.
“It all sounds incredible!” I run in a small circle wringing my hands. Jean Claude bleats, and I glance over at him. For once he doesn’t even annoy me—nothing does.
Take that, Ben!
Take that, Kyle!
Take that, everybody who said this was a fool’s errand!
I’m going to restore this house, and I’m going to make it the most successful B&B on the coast. I’m going to show everybody. It’s going to happen. I just know it. And this sexy guy is going to help me.
Nine
Jax
I’m driving home from dinner at Bernice’s, and I’m beat from my long day. At the same time, I’m strangely exhilarated the closer I get to The Conch Shell. I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight, mostly because I can never sleep in a new room on the first night.
Hell, sometimes the first three nights.
I blame my restlessness on the fact when I was fifteen, and my mom sent me off to a boarding school in Connecticut where I was stuck in a cold as hell dorm with Upper East Side rich kids. It took me forever to acclimate. Rest assured, I figured out quick how to think on my feet and dish out as good as I got from those guys. It came pretty easy. I was already six foot two and fit from football and working with my dad.
I let out a sigh as I think of him. We lost Dad in a car accident, and when my mom remarried six months later, she decided I needed a more formal education to suit the Roland name. Figures. She always wanted to be fancier than we were, and as soon as she landed a rich husband, off to boarding school I went.
Admittedly, I acted out after my dad passed. I skipped school, got shitty grades, and started fights—but it was just grief. Part of me has never forgiven Mom for yanking me out of my home. Whatever. I push that anger away and smile as I imagine what my dad would say about the antics we’ve gotten into on The Right Stud. Damn, he’d love it.
He’d love his grandkids too.
This afternoon, I checked in on Bernice and my triplet nieces: Molly, Mellany, and Mayla. Why the hell Bernice chose names that all start with the same letter is beyond me. Even though they aren’t identical, I can barely keep them straight most of the time.
As soon as I came in, Mellany—or was it Molly?—jumped on me and demanded I be her pony. Three rambunctious pony rides later followed by an impersonation of a prince who wanted to marry the triplets, I was ready to pass out.
Thankfully, Mittens the kitten was safely inside, and I was treated to lots of grateful little girl hugs for that act of heroism. I told them all about rescuing Jean Claude van Ram as Bernice cooked my favorite meal, lasagna with French bread slathered with garlic and butter, and wouldn’t you know it? Ashton’s friend must be right. The girls decided Jean Claude must be a magnificent animal to have such a fancy name.
The lights are off when I reach the place, and as I make my way up the stairs to my room, my phone lights up with a text. I turn it over to see it’s from the number I called earlier, the one Pearson sent to me about the beachfront property.
Thanks for the quick reply. If you’re free, we can meet for coffee in the morning at the Java Hut. It’s a small town. I’ll know you when you arrive.
Frowning as I think, I decide getting this out of the way is a good idea. Sure. I’ll be there at eight.
Once in my room I stand at the big window, thinking about my dad and watching the ocean curl into the shore. The water is black, and the moonlight touches the tips of the waves in silver. I think of Ashton doing her victory lap in the yard this afternoon. Her smile seemed to outshine the sun. I wonder how her evening went here without me, but just as fast I try to push thoughts of her away. I have a job here, and that’s what I need to focus on. Business.
With a sigh, I decide to go for a walk to clear my head. It’s too beautiful out there to ignore, and I can see why Ashton is enamored of this place.
Still wearing my jeans and tee from dinner, I grab my flip-flops and open the door. My plan is to be quiet and stealthy and it seems to be going smoothly, only it’s dark in the hallway. The moon is shining through the oval window near the stairwell, and I use it to navigate.
Moving slowly toward the light, I’ve almost made it when I collide with someone coming from my left. Both of us exclaim with surprise, and I hear a soft groan. Shit! I definitely felt the crunch of someone’s toes under my foot. I reach out to steady the weaving form, which is decidedly soft, silky, and female.
Goddamn, I hope I haven’t somehow ended up in Mrs. C’s room, only I quickly remember Ashton said she was downstairs.
The moonlight from the window helps my eyes to focus. “Sorry… Ashton?”
“It’s me,” she whispers. “I should apologize…”
I gaze down at her, my eyes now adjusted enough to see the outline of her oval face, the way her hair falls in thick waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing a silky pink tank—I know because my hands are on her waist—and a pair of the shortest lace-trimmed booty shorts I’ve ever seen. Is that what she sleeps in? Her sweet, citrusy scent hits me, and I swallow.
Fuck. She’s hot.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off her?
Her small hands clutch my biceps. “I didn’t even look up when I came out of my room.”
“Late-night snack?” I’m whispering because the moment feels intimate.
“Actually, I was having a nightcap. If I’d known you were here, I might have taken more care.” She pauses. “I didn’t hear you come in. I guess I was in the shower.” She looks down at her feet while I’m imagining her in the shower with a lemon-scented body wash…
“Are your toes okay?” I bend down to see if there’s any damage from me stepping on her, but the light is shit. I look up at her. “I’m pretty handy with a smashed finger or toe if you want to come in my room and let me have a look?”
She blinks rapidly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
Then I realize what I just said.
I stand up and laugh self-consciously as I rub the back of my neck. “I just invited you into my room…”
“My toe is fine. Don’t worry.”
I nod, wondering what the etiquette is for running into your hostess in her sexy silk pajamas. I clear my throat again. “I should have turned on the light, but I didn’t want to wake anyone. It’s just a new place makes me squirrelly the first few nights. Give me three days, and I’ll be snoring like a bear. ”
Her eyebrow arches. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah, I always do, no matter where I stay.”
“They say warm milk helps you sleep. Want me to make you some?”
Laughing softly, I touch the side of her cheek. She’s so damn sweet. “I think warm milk sounds… disgusting.”
She exhales a breathy laugh. “I think you’re right. War
m milk sounds pretty gross.”
Standing here in the dark, quiet hall with just a few inches between us, I feel like even though we’ve made a little progress, I want to know her better.
“Why were you sad this afternoon?”
Lines form along the top of her eyebrows, and her eyes move away from mine. “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t sad this afternoon.”
I do my best to make my voice gentle. “I saw you sitting on the beach, and your head was down. You seemed like the weight of the world was on your shoulders.”
“The weight of the world.” She repeats my words softly then sighs as she chews on her lip. “To be honest, since my grandmother died, I guess nothing feels right. She was the one person in my family who got me, you know? She taught me everything I know about cooking and gardening. We loved to watch old movies together—” A wistful expression flits across her face, but she stops. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this.”
But I do. “You don’t have any parents?”
“No, my parents are great, but they’re retired and live in Boca, where their friends are, and my brother…” Her voice trails off.
“Yeah?”
She tilts her chin up, almost defensively. “Don’t even get me started on him.”
I nod. I can understand. My mom makes me crazy too. I’m thankful her society life keeps her busy enough that she barely contacts me.
Ashton continues. “Plus, I can’t seem to stop picking men who are complete douche canoes—” She comes to an abrupt halt, her lips tightening.
My ears perk up, and I remember Mrs. C mentioning a cheating fiancé. “What happened?”
Shaking her head, she turns away, almost as if she’s heading back to her room. I can’t let her do that. I like how she’s opening up to me. I like her.
“Wait.” I’m right beside her, gently touching her arm. “I’m not trying to overstep, but if we’re going to be working together, I’d like to get to know you better. If you want to talk, you can trust me.”
The Right Stud Page 6
