by Emma Hart
“The beach house is in the middle of renovations,” he said as if he’d said it a thousand times. “There’s half a kitchen, hardly any flooring, half the wallpaper is peeling off, and—”
“The bloody bath is still leaking,” Charity said in a poor imitation of a British accent that made Arielle crease up laughing and me hide a smile. “Yes, child, we all know. But it’s livable, isn’t it? There’s running water, the shower works, it’s warm, and cooker works.”
“It’s not insured.” His jaw tensed. “I can’t rent it out to a tourist.”
“Does she look like a tourist to you?” Charity said before I could say a word. “She’s been sleepin’ in her car. Don’t you have a heart?”
“Yes, but it’s too busy keeping me alive to deal with the crap from you and my daughter.”
“Dad! Come on. It’s not like she’s just anybody,” Arielle said, practically begging now. “She’s—”
“Yes, I know who she is. You’ve squealed it no less than six times in the last twenty minutes.” Theo’s eyes flashed to me. “I’m sorry. The house is just not fit for renting.”
“I can pay you,” I said. “Even if it’s just for one or two nights until I can find somewhere else.”
“It’s not about the money.”
“I promise not to sue you if a bit of wallpaper falls on my head.”
Arielle grinned.
“Look, I—”
“She’ll help you get the renovations moving,” Charity offered. “For someone who lives next to the house, you’re not getting on with it, are ya? She can supervise that damn cowboy plumber and make sure he gets it done, and any old joe can paint.”
Why did this feel like I was entering an agreement with the mafia?
Ah, what the hell?
“Sure,” I said. “I can decorate, and I’ve even laid flooring before with my dad. And I can supervise a cowboy builder.” I glanced at Charity. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Please, Dad, please!” Arielle clasped her hands together in the prayer pose and leaned so far across the table her hair almost went in her food. “Pleeeeeease!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle?”
“Because you are,” Charity said brightly. “That’s settled, then! Elle will take the beach house.”
“Jesus bloody Christ,” Theo muttered, dropping his hand. He met my eyes. “Do you know your way around town?”
I shook my head.
“Right. Well, if you don’t mind waiting on us to finish eating, you can follow my truck to the house.”
“I don’t mind,” I replied. “I really appreciate this.”
He pressed his lips together, and with an indiscernible glint in his eyes, nodded his head, then turned back toward his meal and his bouncing daughter.
“Don’t worry about him,” Charity whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He’ll come around.”
I smiled weakly. “It really is only for a few days.”
“We’ll see,” were her parting words.
What the hell did that mean?
***
I took a right turn onto a road that wasn’t quite a road but wasn’t quite a dirt path. It was like if a teenage diet path—it wasn’t sure which one it wanted to be yet.
Theo’s truck was ten feet in front of me, and I winced as my car bumped over a large stone. My car was not cut out for roads like this, and the last thing I needed was a flat tire.
I didn’t think Theo would be too impressed if he had to give me a tow. He already wasn’t too impressed with how he had been strong armed into renting his beach house to me, and I didn’t want to piss him off any more.
I made the same turn he did into a gravel strip. Two houses came into view, and a glance into my rearview mirror showed three others about half a mile down the road. A strip of grass was just to my right, stretching in front of the houses that also bordered the beach. Golden sand mixed with the turquoise water as it crept up the beach.
Theo pulled in front of the house that didn’t have a pile of wood in front of it. I parked behind him and got out, only just avoiding hitting Arielle with my car door.
“Ari!” Theo yelled, shutting the door. “Slow down!”
She bared her teeth at me. “Sorry.”
“Coming?” Theo asked me, beckoning me with a nod of his head.
I locked my car and followed him toward the other house. Aside from the large pile of wood and others miscellaneous items outside, I never would have guessed it was being renovated. The outside looked perfect—white brick and light blue woodwork with deep blue tiles on the roof.
He glanced back at me as he pulled out a key. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not this put together on the inside.”
Arielle popped up beside me. “Nuh-uh. But I like it anyway!”
Ignoring her, Theo pushed the door open and stepped inside. Arielle followed, and I ducked inside the dark blue door frame to the slightly dusty but bright house.
It was open plan downstairs, with a half-installed kitchen that stretched into the main area, then opening onto sliding patio doors that overlooked the beach. One half of the room was filled with various building items—big packs of laminated flooring, tins of paint and unopened packets of paintbrushes, boxes of tiles…
“Ari! Stop running in here. It’s not safe.”
That was reassuring.
The more I looked around, the more I could see what he meant. It wasn’t safe for a hyper little girl, but for an adult, it wasn’t too bad.
It was literally just renovations.
“There’s nothing structurally wrong,” Theo said, walking into the main living area where a sofa was covered under a dust sheet. “It was just time for a renovation, and with the season being so long, I needed it all done at once. Unfortunately, there are a few contractors who didn’t agree with me, and here we are.”
“They’re arseholes,” Arielle said brightly, drawing a heart on the dusty sliding doors with her finger.
Theo rubbed his temple. “I have got to stop taking work calls with her around,” he muttered. “Ari, get off the doors. Anyway,” he said, turning his attention to me. “The kitchen is getting finished this week and hopefully the bath will be done, too. Otherwise, it just needs cleaning and all those supplies are in the utility room.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, looking at him. “How much do I owe you?”
Ari did a cartwheel across the dirty floor and almost toppled into a stack of flooring packets.
Theo winced. “Ari has a dance class in the morning. I’ll come by when I’ve dropped her off.”
“Offt!” Ari rubbed her butt from the floor.
“That works.” I edged back.
Theo slowly nodded. “Ari, take my key and let yourself in at home. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Aw, but, Dad—”
“But, Dad nothing. I can’t hear myself think while you’re over there pretending to be a fairy elephant.” He held out his keys. “Go now, please.”
She huffed and stomped across the room, then snatched the key out of his hand. He reached out and gave her a quick clip to the back of the head, one she squealed at before she ran off.
“Anyway,” he said, turning around again. “Like I said, needs a clean, but everything works. Except the bath—don’t run that fucking thing unless you want to pay to repair a hole in the ceiling.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Good choice. There’s not great service on the beach, but there is a WiFi code. It’s in my office, so if you can manage without it, I’ll bring it over with me tomorrow. If not, feel free to come over in about half an hour and I’ll get it for you.”
“There’s no rush,” I replied. “I’m not bothered.”
He looked at me for a moment, puzzlement flashing across his face, before he shrugged off any hint of emotion and schooled his expression back to one of not really caring. “Your choice. There’s a drawer in the TV
unit with numbers for food delivery, and there’s a grocery store in the middle of town, plus directions on how to get there.” He glanced around the room one last time and nodded as if he was satisfied with the directions he’d given me. “I just ask that you have a bit of a clean before you pull off the dust sheets. There’s also sheets for the bed in the cupboard in vacuum-sealed bags.”
“That’s great. Thanks.”
“Right. Well, I’ll stop by around ten-thirty tomorrow morning, if that works.”
I nodded. “Thanks again. I really do appreciate this.”
He drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, and nodded. “No problem,” he said with the tone of someone who definitely had a problem with this. “The key is just here.” If you need anything, you know where I am.”
On that tightly spoken note, he dropped the key on the kitchen island then left, closing the door behind him.
I sagged, leaning against the dust-sheet-covered sofa. All the breath left my lungs in something that was a mixture of relief and dread, but it was mostly relief. Relief because there was a place to sleep that wasn’t my car, and dread because it was blatantly obvious I wasn’t really welcome here.
Not as far as Theo was concerned, anyway.
He obviously knew who I was because Arielle obviously watched my videos, but I didn’t know how much he knew, especially about recent events.
Jesus, Mitch had really screwed me over, and I didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like we’d broken up last week—we’d split up almost a year ago. I could only guess it was because he no longer had access to my online platform for his newest attempt at a business.
His latest one had been candles. Not particularly nice-smelling ones, either.
Funnily enough, me giving him my honest opinion had sparked the row that had ended up with him breaking up with me and me throwing a pair of his sneakers out of my apartment window at him.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t hit him.
You couldn’t win them all.
I went out to my car and grabbed my things. Saying ‘things’ was a bit of a stretch; I had my cheap phone, laptop, chargers, and two hastily-packed carry-on suitcases filled with necessities.
I lugged everything inside and up the stairs. The two-bedroom house was small but cute, and I pulled the cases into the bedroom with an ocean view and a double bed. Unlike the rest of this house, this room was painted in a gorgeous powder blue, and the white, wooden furniture had a slightly rustic feel to it.
It definitely felt like a beach.
I pulled all the dust covers off the furniture, pleasantly surprised to find a new mattress on the bed, still wrapped in the plastic. A quick bounce determined that it was comfortable, and I folded all the dust sheets so I could store them in the closet.
The room was relatively clean, so I went ahead and unpacked my meager belongings, making a quick mental note of what I needed to buy from the grocery store when I ventured out next.
Probably in an hour.
I doubted there was wine in this house, and God only knew I needed some.
I carried my phone and laptop downstairs, plugged them both in, and retrieved the bucket of cleaning supplies from the utility room. There was both a vacuum and a mop there, and I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have to go out right this second.
Sure, this wasn’t a long-term solution to my problem, but I wasn’t sure I such a thing existed.
Not right now, anyway.
So for now, this would do.
CHAPTER THREE – THEO
“Dad, you don’t understand. It’s amazing. That’s Elle Evans. She’s my most favorite vlogger ever. I can’t believe she’s in Creek Keys. I can’t believe I met her. I watched her eat, Dad!”
I side-eyed Arielle. “Yes, and I’m sure she appreciated every second of that. Put your plate in the dishwasher.”
She did as I asked. “Now she’s right next to us? In our beach house? Oh, my God, I’m gonna die. I can’t even. This is the coolest thing. I need to tell everyone, Dad. I can’t believe this happened. Do you think she’ll show me how she curls her hair? I can’t get it right.”
“What are you curling your hair with? You don’t have one of those things,” I replied. “And no, you’re not getting one, either. You’re nine. Also, for what it’s worth, I don’t think she would appreciate you telling everyone she’s here.”
Ari huffed as she put her cutlery in the basket in the dishwasher, but I didn’t care. She could huff all she wanted.
Elle Evans, vlogger extraordinaire and idol to probably millions of teen and tween girls all around the world, was not in the tiny island town of Creek Keys because she wanted to be mobbed by said teen and tween girls.
As a father, it was my business to know everything about what my child was doing on the internet, and that extended to learning about the people behind the stupid videos she was watching.
Which meant I knew a lot more about my new, temporary tenant than I needed to.
Like the fact she had an X-rated tape currently floating around on the internet.
Call me old-fashioned, but that wasn’t the kind of woman I wanted my young daughter looking up to.
“While we’re talking about her, we’re going to talk about her,” I told Ari, closing the door to the dishwasher to turn it on. “You’re not to bother her, do you understand? She’s probably here on vacation and doesn’t want to be bugged by crazy little children.”
“What? I can’t have one picture?”
“We’ll see. She doesn’t intend to stay long, so maybe she’ll give you one,” I said reluctantly. “But you are to tell nobody she’s here, do you understand?”
“I understand, Dad. You don’t have to keep asking me that.”
“I’ll ask you as many times as I like, young lady, so you can cut that attitude right out before I take your laptop charger.”
She jutted out her bottom lip. “I understand. But I really love her.”
“I know you do. Have you ever heard the saying ‘Don’t meet your heroes?’”
“No.”
“Well, there’s a saying that says ‘don’t meet your heroes.’ The reason for that is because they rarely turn out to be the people you expect them to be.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes meeting people you look up to isn’t the same as admiring them from afar. We don’t know anything about her, and—”
“I do. I know lots about her.”
“No, you know lots about what she talks about in her videos.” I crouched down so my eyes were level with hers. “You don’t know her, and that’s a very important distinction you need to remember.”
She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked away, out of the window at the beach. “Do I have to ignore her?”
“You don’t have to be rude,” I said slowly. Carefully. “But it wouldn’t be proper for you to seek her out. Like I said, I don’t think she’ll be here long. That house isn’t ready for that at any rate.”
Ari sighed, her shoulders sagging right down. “I know. I’m just excited. Wouldn’t you be excited if you met the rocket man?”
“Who the heck is the rocket man?”
“The fighter bloke.” She jumped back and took the position of a boxer, legs apart, fists up in fighting mode. “The tiger guy!”
Rocky.
She was talking about Rocky.
I laughed and stood up. “You mean Rocky Balboa.”
“The rocket man.”
I pulled her into my side and kissed the top of her head. “I sure would, but he’s only a character, babe. Rocky isn’t real, but Sylvester Stalone is.”
“Whatever. You’d die either way.”
“I don’t think I would die, but I would be a bit excited,” I admitted. “As long as we’re clear, you can go.”
“Go where?”
“To shower. You spent half the day on the beach and you have ketchup in your hair from the diner.”
“But I have dance tomorrow and I
’m going to have to shower after then, too!”
“You’re right. Off you go.” I took her by the shoulders and guided her toward the stairs. “And make sure you use a clean towel, not something from that cesspit you call your bedroom floor.”
She dropped her head back with a groan as she stomped up the stairs.
She could groan all she liked.
She was still bloody well doing it.
I waited until the sound of the shower running filled the air before I nodded and stepped away from the hallway. One of the living room windows overlooked the house Elle was staying in, and I glanced out in time to see her little silver car park up outside in the designated parking space.
She got out of the car, tucking her dark hair back from her face, and moved to inspect her tires.
She needed to. That fancy little machine was going to last five minutes on the old dirt road, so I hoped she had enough supplies to last her until she was ready to leave and move on.
She stood, apparently happy with her tires, and moved to the front door. She unlocked it before returning to the car and fetching her groceries from the boot. I sipped my beer and watched her carry the bags inside then shut the door behind her.
I knew exactly what had brought her here, but that didn’t stop me from wondering how the hell she’d ended up in Creek Keys. We were one of the smaller islands in the Florida Keys, only really attracting Floridian tourists and family members. We didn’t get the spring breakers or the kind of traffic Key West got, but we got enough to keep us going.
In my experience, this was exactly the way the residents of Creek Keys liked it.
It was the way it needed to stay, which was why Ari couldn’t tell her friends that their beloved vlogger was staying next door. Nobody needed a gaggle of crazy, obsessive pre-teen girls descending on their doorstep.
Elle definitely didn’t.
I hoped like fuck she wasn’t going to stay long. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help with the house, but I didn’t really think she was going to do that, either. She gained nothing by doing it, and someone who got as many column inches as she did in all the stupid little teen magazines my daughter insisted I buy at the store, she probably had a place of her own in some exclusive island resort somewhere.
