“And I’ll take drink orders. Jake, what can I get you? Beer? Gin and tonic?”
“Beer sounds good, sir.” He slid his hands in his pockets. I liked the blue shirt he was wearing with the khaki shorts. He looked relaxed.
“Ok, and sweetie, I know you’d like a glass of wine. I’ll be back.” He walked out of the study.
I bit my tongue. My dad was using this setting to act like things were the same as two months ago. I couldn’t correct him in front of Jake. For now, I would act like a daughter who wanted to have dinner with her parents.
“Your parents are great. I met your mother earlier.”
“Yeah, she’s the best.” I knew my father would waltz back in any second, but I was fighting a growing urge to reach up and kiss Jake. Not seeing him for twenty-four hours had that effect on me.
“You look nice.” His eyes dipped to my throat and trailed along the V of my dress.
It was a heated stare my reveled in.
“Ok. Ok. Here we go.” Dad appeared with drinks in hand. “One beer for you, Jake. And here you go.” He handed me a glass of wine.
“Thank you, sir.” Jake tipped the glass against his lips. My parents were really going all out. The beer was in a pilsner glass.
“Mom says dinner is ready, so why don’t we head to the dining room?” My dad waved his hand toward the door.
“Dining room?” I looked at him. We only ate in the dining room at Christmas and Easter. Sometimes, if all of my aunts and grandparents were over, but it was rare that both sides of the family gathered at the same time.
“Come on. Let’s go.” He put his hand across Jake’s shoulder. “Wait ‘til you taste this sauce Cindy makes. It’s an island legend.”
I rolled my eyes. I was behind them so no one could catch this one. At least I got one freebie.
“Mom, that was so good. Thanks for making dinner. You sit and I’ll take care of the dishes.” I placed my napkin on the table and pushed back my seat.
“Yes, Mrs. Davis. It was delicious. You should bottle and sell that sauce at the store.” Jake smiled.
My mother blushed. “I’m just glad everyone enjoyed it. Chelsea, you don’t have to do the dishes.”
“Yes, I do. You sit and relax.” I began collecting plates.
“I’ll help.” Jake stood before I reached his plate.
“Why, a man that helps in the kitchen. That’s nice to see on the island. Isn’t it, Chelsea?” My mom beamed at me as Jake piled Dad’s plate on top of the stack.
“Mom, that is so sexist.” I knew it was true, though. It was rare to find a man on the island who helped with domestic duties. Add that to the list of reasons to find love off this piece of sand.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” She giggled. Her cheeks flushed from a glass of wine. “I’d have to pay your father to wash a dish.”
“Who wants to do dishes?” He chuckled from the head of the table. I fought the impulse to fire back. It was pointless.
Jake followed me to the kitchen and began rinsing the plates.
“My dad is such an asshole,” I seethed.
“He doesn’t seem that bad. But I don’t know what’s going on.” He tilted his head. “There’re always two sides to every story, right?”
I didn’t want to tell him that the other side of this story was dark and ugly. My father’s affair with Eileen was something that had permeated the happiness I once felt in our family home. It hung in the air like mold, growing darker and more disgusting the longer it was left on its own.
“Right.” I opened the dishwasher and tossed the silverware in the basket.
“You seem awfully quiet.” He nudged me with his arm.
“I can’t really talk about it right now.” The salt in my tears stung the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t going to cry. I couldn’t. “Is that ok?”
Jake turned the water off. “Hey, come here.”
Before I could turn my face from him or reach for another handful of dirty dishes, his strong arms wrapped me in against his chest.
I exhaled into the broad surface of his upper body. He smelled so good—like clean soap and cologne. I circled my hands around his waist and settled into the embrace. I felt the anger that had gripped me release with every deep breath I shared with him.
“Is that better?” he murmured into my hair.
I looked in his eyes, feeling calmness wash over me. It was as if Jake had steadied all the tipsiness, and with a new sense of balance, I lost my breath.
“Yes,” I whispered.
It was only a hug, but suddenly it felt like the single most earth-shattering moment of my life.
Twenty-One
Ben
“Rick, come on. Tell me something. What is going on with her?” I closed the door of the Sand Dollar behind me and turned the AC to low. Today was a scorcher.
“Rebecca’s determined. She says she’s in love.”
“What in the hell? We weren’t even together that long.” I ran my hands through my hair.
“I talked to her for a few minutes yesterday. She swears the article is her way of getting you back. She really wants you to work things out.” He paused. “It sounds legit, Ben.”
I slid into the vinyl booth with a cup of coffee. “It can’t be. I was there. I was in the relationship. We never once said we loved each other. This is so full of bullshit. She has an angle. I know she does.”
“You can’t tell anyone that. Rebecca is sweet and beautiful. She’s really playing up the girl-in-love card. And it’s working. She’s had one interview after another.” Rick breathed hard into the phone. “Have you thought about doing a counter interview? You should put your side of the story out there.”
“Hell no.” The coffee burned the tip of my tongue. “I’m not responding. No statements, no interviews, no spin. Do you hear me, Rick? I just want to know what she’s up to. I’m not turning this into a bigger media circus.”
I didn’t know about the other interviews Rebecca had granted, although it wasn’t surprising. She loved the attention. I remembered how she never turned down a fan request for an autograph or a picture. She was in her natural state when a camera was present.
“I’ll keep making some calls,” he announced.
“Thanks, Rick.”
“Sure thing. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out.”
“All right.” I attempted another sip of the coffee.
“But if you change your mind, just say the word, boss, and I’ll have Entertainment Now, the Gossip Channel, anyone you want ready to air your side of the story. We can work this in your favor. I know it.”
“There is no my side of the story. Just find out how to end this shit.” The longer this carried on, the more sympathy Becs was stockpiling.
“Got it. Hey, how is it, where you are?” Rick hadn’t asked my whereabouts in the last few phone calls.
I realized that he wanted that one piece of information above everything else. “It’s beautiful, man. I’ll catch you later.”
I didn’t give him another chance to pester me. I ended the call and placed the phone on the table.
I had worked five straight days at the store, and now I had two off in a row. It felt strange to sit in the camper with nothing to do. The waves were breaking hard and the wind was blowing.
I stepped out onto my sandy patch of yard and took in the scene. I had to shield my eyes from the sun. Man, it was bright and hot even with the breeze.
“Hey, stranger.” I heard Alice before I saw her.
“Hey, Alice.” I smiled and raised my coffee cup to her.
The pink bikini wasn’t as wild as some I had seen her in.
“You’ve been a busy guy this week, haven’t you?” Her arms were loaded with a beach chair, bag, and towel.
“Yeah, I took a job at the general store in town. This is my first day off.” I took a sip of the coffee and peered at the surfers taking the waves head on.
“Day off? I bet you could use some sun. Some time on the
beach, huh?” She ran her tongue over her red lipstick.
One of the surfers took a nosedive in the center of a wave. I watched him pop back up with a smile on his face. “Actually, I’m going to do some surfing today.”
“Surfing?” She sounded shocked. “Oh, I bet you look all hard and chiseled in a wet suit.”
I swallowed the coffee and fought the urge to laugh. It was all so comical how blatantly she threw herself at me. “I don’t know about that, but I thought I’d give it a try. It’s been awhile.”
I wasn’t going to tell her the last time I surfed was for my role as a spy who arrived on an island by surfboard. I would keep that tidbit to myself.
“You have a good time, and if you come down to this part of the beach I’ll wave.”
“All right, Alice. Thanks.” I watched her sashay toward the row of sunbathers camped out on the beach for the day.
Sure, it was a spur of the moment excuse, but I was pretty stoked that I had come up with it. It was the perfect day to hit the waves.
“Welcome to Wave On, how can we help you?” The girl behind the counter couldn’t be more than sixteen. Exactly the demographic I needed to stay away from.
I was feeling more comfortable about my residence on Brees Island. But after Rebecca’s article two days ago, some of that contentment I had built as Jake the writer was gone.
I pulled my hat over my eyes and focused on my feet. “I wanted to get a refresher on surfing. I’ve done it before, but it’s been a few years. Is there someone who could give me a quick rundown on the breaks and waves, and then I’ll take it from there?”
She was staring, definitely staring long and hard. I was going to be pissed at myself if I blew everything because a fifteen-year-old identified me.
“That sounds like something we could totally do. You should go out with Derek. I think he’s free. He knows like everything.” She turned and opened a door behind her. “Derek!”
“Yep. I’m here. What’s up?” I recognized Derek as the clerk from Davis General Store. The clerk who had created a job opening for me.
“This guy needs a lesson or like kind of a lesson. Like maybe you could just take him out.” She started re-braiding her hair. I was no longer worried she knew who I was. She might be the one teenager who couldn’t pick out One Direction from a lineup.
“Hey, I’m Derek.” He stood by the counter.
“Jake.” I shook his hand. “We kind of met at Davis. You used to work there?”
“Five years I did. But this is a better situation.” He wiped dark bangs off his forehead. “Surfing is better than stocking shelves and sweeping floors.”
“All right.” I didn’t need all the background. I was just making conversation. “Do you think you could take me out? I’ve surfed before, but I’m rusty. It was a few years ago. Just fill me in on the best spots. I’ll be good from there.”
“Oh yeah, man. Let’s go.” Derek led me over to the rack of surfboards. “Pick out your board and meet me on the beach.” He turned and walked behind the teenage girl.
There wasn’t much to choose from. I reached for a white board, tucked it under my arm, and exited through the same door Derek used.
I remembered my first time surfing on the set of Spy Cross. I had approached the board like all other tasks—something I could tackle with athleticism. I didn’t know it would be such a humbling experience. It took me almost a week before I could stand on the board, and then another few days before I felt confident enough for the director to start shooting scenes with me upright. They almost called in a stunt double, but I was determined to find my balance on the waves. I didn’t need a double. Most of the scenes were shot as close-ups, but I was still proud I had learned to surf so quickly.
“You ready?” Derek greeted me by the surf.
I felt the waves lap around my ankles. “Yeah, let’s do it.” I gripped the board and waited for him to give me the rundown on Carolina waves.
It was almost sunset. I sat in the sand watching the waves wash through the pilings of the pier. The surfing didn’t come back to me as quickly as I wanted. I had spent the entire day wrestling with the board and the waves, but it felt good. My head was clear.
My lungs surged with the salt air, and my muscles ached with exhaustion. It was a damn near perfect day.
Twenty-Two
Chelsea
I listened to the old timers in the corner. “Sure is. Sometime next week’s when I expect her to make landfall. Write it down.”
“Last summer we didn’t have much in the way of storms. Bound to catch up with us. You’re probably right.”
The men went back and forth talking about one of the tropical storms that had been named on the news. I hadn’t bothered to turn on the television. I knew I would hear everything I needed to right here at the store.
It was Sunday and my favorite day to be at work. It was hard to explain, but there was a certain serenity that descended on the island on Sunday, and it even found its way into the general store. The fishing boats still went out and tourists still flocked to the beaches, but the flow of the island slowed to an easy pace.
I knew the men would rock in the chairs and sip at least two cups of coffee before leaving the store. They spent their Sunday mornings in the same corner while their wives were at church. I pulled a scrap of paper from my apron and flattened it.
I had started a song in the shower, and slowly the body of it was unraveling on the paper. These were the days I wished I had my guitar with me. If I had the chance, Sunday mornings would be the perfect time to write.
I looked around for Jake. It was fun writing with him on my porch. He mainly tossed out ideas I had to squash, but that was part of the fun. I had never laughed so much with my guitar in my lap. He reminded me that it was supposed to be fun. Not everything could be emotional and reflective all the time. It starts to take a toll if the lyrics deplete you. With Jake around, it felt like the lyrics were breathing new life into my soul. It energized me like it never had before.
When he had arrived this morning, he smiled, said hello, and immediately started sweeping from the corner of the store. It was the first time I had seen him since the dinner at my parents’ house. Since the hug. Since I melted in his arms in front of the kitchen sink.
I worked six days a week to make up for the money I had to repay my father. Everyone else put in five. That meant Jake was gone for two days. Two long days.
Was it normal to miss someone you didn’t know well? I sighed, knowing the answer was no. Nevertheless, there was something about him that I was drawn to. When he wasn’t around, it was noticeable that the air wasn’t as calm, that I wasn’t as steady.
“Hey.” He strolled to the register. How did he appear like that? It reminded me of a vampire in one of the books I was reading. He showed up when the girl least expected it.
“How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” I asked, looking at his new sunburn. The bridge of his nose was red. Secretly, I had wanted to hear from him over the weekend. Paul had another bonfire, and the thought crossed my mind to invite him. For once, I was trying to take things slow. When we were alone, the brakes were unlocked and things spiraled before either of us could catch our breath.
“Good. Spent some time on the water. How about yours? Write anything new?” He smiled as if he was sharing a secret with me.
“Actually, I’m working on something now. Want to take a look at it?” I twirled the paper around so he could read it. I had never so readily handed over my lyrics before.
He scanned the paper. “This is good. I like it. Maybe even better than the one from the other night.”
“Really?” I blushed. How could anything be better than the other night? My back on the kitchen table, buttons flying everywhere—yeah, that was amazing.
“It sounds a little darker, like you’re coming from a deeper place. Finish it.” He handed me the paper.
He said it like I could do it in five minutes. I intended to finish all of the songs, but
it didn’t work that way.
“I will. Hey, I was thinking about sending in the one you helped me with.”
“What do you mean?” He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket.
“I’ve been trying to get a contract with one of the labels in Nashville or Austin since I graduated. Every week I send in at least one—sometimes more than that.” I didn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed by how high the number was. It grew each week.
He leaned on the counter. “And do you know anyone at the labels? How do you know someone gets them?”
I scrunched my face. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought of that before. “No, I don’t know anyone. I wish I knew someone. But eventually, they’ll land in someone’s hands who loves them. I just have to keep sending them.” I was new to the game, but I had researched all of the right contacts at the labels. Every week I switched up my pitch letter before sending another email. It was tedious and sometimes felt like a useless exercise, but it was the only avenue I had.
“But, that’s a crap shoot.”
The words stung a bit. I thought he understood the publishing and discovery process. Wasn’t it the same routine he had to go through with agents and publishers?
I shrugged my shoulders. “What other options do I have if I don’t know anyone in the business? I believe in my songs.” I was annoyed. “Do you have some advice that will land me a big record contract? Do you know a huge star who wants to sing my music?”
He placed one foot behind the other and backed away from the counter. I instantly regretted being such a big mouth. He was always so good at helping me brainstorm. I wanted him to stay longer, but he had a way of ducking out before I got all that I needed.
“Good luck with your music. It’s great stuff.” He winked before disappearing into the hallway. He was probably headed to the rental booth. People loved to paddle on Sunday mornings.
I sighed and looked at the words on my page. Well, that was a disaster.
Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance Page 62
