Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance

by Katerina Cole

  Flora jumped in her seat. “All summer? My, that’s a surprise.”

  I kept my focus on the three lines I had to fill in.

  “Did Carl tell you the nightly rate for the campers?” She had retrieved a calculator from the same desk drawer, and she began counting the rest of the summer days on the calendar out loud.

  “No, but I have cash. It’s not a problem.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and rocked back on my heels. I would need to go into town and buy something other than boots.

  The campground hostess whistled. I got the impression she wasn’t used to long-term camper residents. She scribbled a few numbers, and then punched them into the calculator.

  “All right. If you stay until the end of August, that’s ninety-two days at sixty-five dollars a night.” She paused to see if I was going to interrupt her. “With tax and water fees, that comes to sixty-five hundred dollars.”

  I handed her the pen. “Ok. I need to run back to the Sand Dollar, but I’ll bring the cash in a few minutes.”

  Flora looked at me suspiciously. That was the last look I wanted to see.

  “Promise. I’ll be right back.” I smiled my best movie star grin and darted out of the office door.

  I jogged the trail to the camper, tugged twice on the handle, and reached for my duffle bug. Everything I had was in that bag, along with several wads of cash. I formed two stacks with the bills until I had all sixty-five hundred dollars ready to hand to Flora. I shoved the money in my front pockets and slammed the door behind me.

  The salt air hit me the same time my phone started ringing. I clenched my jaw and fist as I pulled it from my back pocket. Rebecca. I pressed decline and tucked the phone in my jeans.

  Rebecca wasn’t going to give up until she talked to me. One of the things I had liked about her from the beginning was her persistence, but right now, it was the one thing that was pissing me off. Funny how cute, endearing things could suddenly turn into the ones that were the most aggravating. I smacked a mosquito against my neck as I trudged back to the campground office.

  I pulled into an open space in front of Davis General Store. Flora had told me I could find everything I needed from beer to flashlights at the island’s largest store.

  I didn’t recognize the song playing on the local station, but I liked the words. Something about summertime, sand, and dancing. It wasn’t anything like Texas music, but the lyrics were catchy. I adjusted the volume on the radio. I wanted to play it loud since I had the top of the Jeep rolled down, but part of staying incognito was not drawing unnecessary attention.

  My boots hit the gravel parking lot, and I took the steps into the store two at a time. On the other side of this door was a twelve-pack with my name on it. Who cared if it was only ten in the morning? It was time to get this indefinite vacation started.

  “Welcome to Davis,” a guy wearing an apron called across the store. He was stocking the freezer with beer.

  I walked in his direction. “Thank you. That’s just what I was looking for.”

  “Sure, man.” He handed me a case of beer. “Chelsea should be back at the register now. She can ring you up—unless there’s something else you’re shopping for today.”

  Something about the store reminded me of my hometown in Texas. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what seemed so familiar. I was about as far away from Shiner, Texas, as I could get.

  “Actually, I have some more shopping to do.” I knew my list was longer than just a case of beer.

  “How about I take that for you, and you can have a look around?” The clerk gripped the sides of the cardboard carton and headed toward the front of the story. “Holler if you need anything.” I couldn’t help but notice how friendly the guy was.

  “Thanks.” I began browsing the outer perimeter of the store. There wasn’t much in the duffle bag I had left in the camper. A few T-shirts, another pair of jeans, my running shoes, and enough boxer briefs to make it through the week. I didn’t need much.

  I eyed the wall of board shorts. Now that I was living at the beach for the summer, I would need a pair. Unless there was a red carpet event and Lana Pine insisted I participate in the black tie selection, I had no interest in clothes. T-shirts and jeans fit every occasion. It felt strange to stand in front of the wall display of bathing suits. I reached for pair. They were simple. I needed simple.

  Behind the swimwear was a rack of suntan lotion—something else I hadn’t thought to throw in my bag.

  On the other side of the dressing room was a stand stacked with flip-flops. Exactly what I needed to fit in on the island. Beachgoers didn’t wear boots, especially not fifteen-hundred-dollar designer boots. I snatched a pair.

  I strolled back to the other side of the store where the grocery aisles were. Yesterday I had avoided junk food. Tom, my personal trainer for the past two years, would punch me if he saw me eyeing the row of cookies and chips. The hell with Tom. He wasn’t here to force raw eggs and protein shakes down my throat. I tossed two bags of corn chips under my arm.

  Trying to balance everything, I dumped it all on the counter. I looked up in time to hear an auburn-haired girl with the prettiest frown I had ever seen, curse under her breath. One of the bottles of lotion rolled off the pile and bumped against her hand, jarring the pen she was using.

  I thought I heard her groan. She scooped up the note and tucked it into the front pocket of her apron.

  “Is this all?” She sounded annoyed.

  “Sorry about that.”

  I wrapped my arms around the stash and tried to bring it back together in the center of the counter. As soon as I let go, a bottle of hot sauce toppled to the side and headed for the floor. I reached out and snagged the glass container before shattered on the wood.

  “Wow. That was quick.” The girl had perched on her tiptoes to witness the great save.

  I placed the jar upright next to the register. “Catlike reflexes.”

  “Hmm.”

  She started scanning tags before placing the items in paper bags.

  I couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t impressed. I rubbed my jaw. It must be the stubble. I hadn’t shaved in several days. All part of the new incognito persona, but still girls usually flirted with me. I would be hard pressed to recount a time when a girl had batted her eyelashes, or asked me out and didn’t know exactly who I was.

  “So what was that you were working on?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

  For the first time, she paused and looked at me. “Was there anything else I can get you, sir?”

  Puzzled, I fished in my jeans pocket for my wallet. “No. Thank you.”

  She pointed at the screen. “That will be two hundred and thirty dollars and twenty-four cents.”

  She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. I liked the color. It was pretty. She was pretty, in a natural way. It was nice to look at someone who hadn’t spent a gazillion dollars to have their face reorganized.

  I counted out the bills and handed them to her before gathering the bags in my arms.

  “Thank you for stopping by Davis.” She said it as if she was on autopilot.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and walked out on the porch.

  I loaded my purchases in the back of the Jeep. Damn it. The beer. I jogged back up the stairs and into the store.

  The girl had her back turned and was focused on the paper she had spread out on the counter.

  “So, you are writing something.” I pretended to peek over her shoulder.

  “Hey, that’s private.” She shoved the paper back into her apron pocket.

  “Dar—” I bit my tongue. I couldn’t say darlin’ here or anywhere. Too Texan. “I left my beer. The guy in the back brought it up for me, and I forgot it.”

  “Oh, Derek didn’t mention it.” She turned around, searching the space along the counter for the beer. “Here it is.”

  “Really, I’m sorry if I pried.”

  I watched as she scanned the box. I hadn’t noticed the tiny freckles on the bridg
e of her nose. They were cute.

  “I should have minded my own business.” I handed her another stack of bills and lifted the beer to my shoulder.

  A smile spread across her face, and I saw a glimmer of blue in her eyes. A shade of blue I had seen in the sky over the ocean.

  She shrugged. “It’s ok. Have a good day.”

  I walked toward the door and pivoted on my heel to ask her something, anything, but she had already pulled the paper from her pocket again and forgotten I was ever there.

  I smiled. It had been awhile—a very long while—but this was what it felt like when nobody knew who you were.

  Six

  Chelsea

  I looked at the clock again. It was the one my grandfather had put in the store on opening day. Of course I wasn’t around in 1961 when the store first opened for business. But I had heard the family tale so many times I felt like I had been there. My grandmother had served pineapple upside down cake and champagne punch. It was the social event of the season. Knowing Brees Island, it was probably the only social event that year. The little hand was almost at the five—that was all I cared about.

  “See you at eight. Don’t forget, hot stuff.” Derek tossed his apron in a ball across the counter.

  “Wait, I didn’t say I was going tonight. I have things to do,” I argued.

  Things that included finishing two incomplete songs that had surfaced at the most inopportune times today. Paul’s party would be like all of the rest—over the top and expensive. I didn’t mind missing it.

  “Whatever. You and I both know there’s nothing else going on tonight. See ya.”

  I rested my forehead against the smooth surface of the counter. This day would never end. If I could just make it through one more, then I would have a full day off. No matter what Derek had planned that day, I was going to write. He could party alone.

  Bertie walked by and typed in her clerk number on the register. “You ready to clock out?” she asked.

  “I can’t get out of here fast enough. I’m so glad you’re here.” I ducked out of the apron and handed it over to the petite woman.

  “For someone who is going to inherit this gold mine, you don’t seem to like it too much.” Bertie flattened the apron against her chest.

  “Don’t remind me,” I groaned.

  I didn’t like to talk about the store as an inheritance. I had no brothers or sisters to share the burden. It was just me. If things went the way I wanted, I would be writing songs and hearing them on the radio. My life on Brees Island would be part of the past.

  “All right, kiddo. Go on. Get out of here. You probably have something fun planned tonight. I’ve got the store.” She shooed me from behind the register.

  “If you see my dad, tell him I closed out the drawer like he asked and the report is in his office, ok?”

  “Sure thing. Don’t worry about reports. He’ll find it. Night.”

  I walked past the coffee machine, and the leftover display of this morning’s donuts. In less than thirteen hours, I would be right back here, starting the day all over again.

  I grabbed my purse and keys from the office and kicked open the screen door to the employee lot. Maybe I could squeeze in a few writing hours before Derek picked me up.

  One of the advantages to working in a beach store was getting first dibs on all the cute clothes that came in. I appreciated that perk if nothing else. I tied the halter-top behind my neck and pulled the rest of the fabric around my sides. Derek was going to notice me no matter what I wore. No use in trying to hide it.

  At eight sharp, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it to face the dark-haired guy who had chased after me since we were fourteen.

  “Hey, you look hot. Ready?” Derek smiled, his eyes trailing the V between my breasts.

  It was hard to ignore the look on his face. It stirred something under my skin—something I had felt a few nights ago. “Uh, yeah. Let me get my bag.”

  I twirled away from the door and closed my eyes. Quick party and then home by ten. That might give me a couple of hours to write before bed.

  Derek held the door open as I passed under his arm. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “Why? Paul’s parties are always the same. Booze, music, and a load of tourists he seems to pick up on the beach. Scratch that, girls he picks up on the beach.”

  “If you have to ask, then I’ve been doing everything wrong.” He opened the passenger side door.

  I recognized the gesture as something that happens on a date. This wasn’t supposed to be a date. Hesitantly, I slid into the car and waited as he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

  I glanced at the light in my bedroom window. How had I let him drag me into this? My guitar was in there with two songs, like half a heart, waiting for its whole.

  Paul’s parties were always epic. His dad was the island’s most successful realtor, and when there was less than six square miles of real estate to sell, any tiny piece of it was valuable. Mr. McIntire had figured out Brees Island was like an untapped oil pipeline long before anyone else caught on.

  Derek parked next to the fence, several cars away from the main gate. During party nights, Paul kept the gates open.

  “You ready?” he squeezed my hand. I felt the warmth of his palm as it pressed against my knuckles. Moments like this I knew he was the sweetest guy on the island, but I also knew he would always be the sweetest guy here—he wouldn’t leave.

  “Yep. One red cup and then you have to take me home.” I tilted my head to the side.

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He snatched the keys from the ignition and stuffed them in his pocket.

  I hopped from the car before he could make it to my side. I didn’t want him trying any more of that chivalrous stuff tonight. We were here as friends.

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me that, you know. I’m not your boss. I work at Davis just like you.” I sidled up next to him as we walked through the iron gates of the McIntire beach estate.

  “I’m just kidding around with you, girl. Lighten up. We’re here to have fun.” He slipped his arm around my shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s kind of hot that you’re my boss.”

  I shoved into his side, just under his ribs. “Am not!”

  Derek’s deep laugh echoed across the driveway. “All right, all right. But it’s definitely hot when you get mad.”

  He was relentless. I rolled my eyes and followed him up the stairs that led to the massive ten-bedroom house.

  Paul greeted us at the front door. His blond hair was spiked perfectly. I wondered how much time he had spent studying hair gel techniques for men.

  “Dude. Glad you made it.” Paul slapped Derek on the back.

  “Wouldn’t miss it, but you know this one I had to drag here kicking and screaming.” He pointed at me.

  “That’s not true, Paul. I love your parties.” I reached up to hug him.

  He didn’t seem fazed. We had all known each other since elementary school or longer. When you graduate with a senior class of thirty, you know people well. I didn’t think Paul cared one way or another if I made it to one of his summer parties. All he cared about was the minivan that had just pulled up with a load full of college girls.

  “Excuse me. Girls are here.” He pushed past Derek and me to meet the blondes and brunettes in tight sundresses.

  Derek laughed. “I guess I should go get us some drinks.”

  I held up my finger. “One. One drink.”

  “Ok, ok. Meet you on the deck.” He walked into the crowded living room as I made my way to the ocean side deck.

  At least I didn’t recognize anyone else. It would be a lot easier to escape after my one drink max, if none of the other Brees High classmates made an appearance.

  Our high school class was evenly split: fifteen went to college like me, and the other fifteen stayed on the island and drifted into family businesses or took community college classes like Derek. It wasn’t that those fifteen w
eren’t college material, but there was a strong pull to stay on the island. Parents needed help running restaurants and fishing boats, and it was too expensive for most families. I knew I was lucky my parents had a year-round business, with year-round income that could fund my education. I also knew my four years of college and two years of graduate school came with strings, more like heavy metal chains.

  In the far corner of the deck, the music wasn’t quite so loud. I could hear the occasional wave crash on the shore. I leaned over the railing and looked at the pool below. Paul had turned on the iridescent lights. The water sparkled between a pink and purple hue. Tacky, I thought.

  “Here you go.” Derek arrived with a full cup of something the bartender had whipped up.

  “Thanks.” I took a timid sip. “Paul’s got the lights in the pool on a disco show or something.”

  Derek peered over the side. “He’s such an asshole. Probably one of those girls in that pack will think there’s something cool about it.”

  “If you don’t like him, why do you always come to these parties?”

  Coconut. Tonight’s concoction was a smooth coconut mix almost like a pina colada. I sipped again.

  “Because, I get to see you and hang out with you—not at work.” He caught a strand of my hair and tucked it behind my ear.

  It felt familiar. It felt sweet. “Der, this isn’t going to happen.” I paused and looked into his dark brown eyes. “We—us—it’s not—”

  He cupped the side of my face with his free hand, gazing intensely at my lips. It was hard to talk to him while he stared at me like that. Even harder with him so close and so warm.

  “How’s your drink?” He moved so that there was just enough space to allow the cup to tip up and take a sip.

  I watched his throat move with each swallow. I knew he was giving me time to soak in the physical connection we had. Logic told me to stop right there. We didn’t have anything in common; we never would. How could we when our goals were so different?