Billionaire Vacation

by Nella Tyler

  “I wouldn’t ask you to, Summer. But don’t get me wrong here, I still want you. I want you even more now that I’ve had you. So, when I finish teaching you and it doesn’t feel like you’re exchanging sex for something, I hope like hell you’ll re-consider the no-sleeping together0 rule.” I wasn’t sure, it was dark and she was so good at controlling her facial features, but I think I saw the traces of a smile. That’s all I got, though, before she turned away from me again and walked away. This was definitely going to be the hardest I’ve ever worked to get a girl…but something about Summer tells me that she’s worth it.

  *******

  I met my mother for breakfast the next morning at a café near my father’s office in the business district. She’d arranged for me to meet her there because she was hoping my father would join us. I could have told her he wasn’t going to show up, but since they’ve been married for over thirty years, you would think no one would have to tell her.

  “So, mother of mine, what’s on your mind?”

  “What do you mean? I just wanted to have breakfast with my handsome son.”

  I grinned. “I know you love me, Mom, and I know I’m handsome.” I winked and she rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “I also know that tone you get in your voice when you have something on your mind and it was there when you, let’s just say, requested my presence at breakfast.”

  “Well as long as we’re on the subject, I’d like to go on the record here as saying I shouldn’t have to call and practically beg my son to come and see me, especially considering the fact that he’s only been in the country a total of four weeks out of the past year.”

  “You’re right.” Mom was an expert at making me feel guilty. I guess it’s a mom thing. “I’m sorry for not making more time for you.”

  “And, Chrissy…and your father.” I love my sister, but we are as alike as night and day…or at least I hope we are. Chrissy is like Paris Hilton on steroids. She thinks the world should bow down at her feet. Anything she’s ever wanted, she’s gotten. She’s twenty-five years old, and my father still doesn’t dare say no to her for fear of the fit to come. She no longer has full-blown tantrums, thank God, but she will find a way to make him pay. One good thing about her being the way she is was that it gave them less time and energy to turn me into the spoiled monster she'd become.

  “Chrissy and Dad are hard to get an appointment with themselves,” I said.

  She rolled her pretty blue eyes at me. “Your sister stays busy it’s true, but I know she’d love to spend an afternoon or evening catching up with her brother. And, you know how hard your father works. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us.”

  I didn’t want to argue with her. I really just wanted to know what she wanted so that I could try to say no and end up doing it anyways. I could never say no to her. “Okay, Mom, I’ll try and get in touch with both of them and spend some time with them while I’m in town.”

  She smiled. My mother is beautiful with her long black hair and topaz blue eyes, but I recognized that smile as her evil one. She’s plotting something. The next words out of her mouth told me what it was, “I’m putting on a Gala next Friday night to introduce some new local artists…”

  I groaned. “You know I hate those things, Mom.”

  “Let me finish,” she said. I sat quietly and tried not to grimace as she filled me in on her plan. “This Gala is very important because Spencer Exports is offering a full scholarship to the Art Institute of California to one of the artists. That means a lot of press and that means I need my entire family there.”

  “Can I go now?”

  “Don’t be smart. What is there for you to say?”

  “I hate those things, Mom.”

  “I’ll expect you there, Drake. It will be at the La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club in the ballroom at seven p.m. next Friday night.”

  I knew arguing with her was futile, so instead, I asked, “Can I bring a date?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SUMMER

  “So, tell me what you already know about surfing.” Drake had showed up twenty minutes late. I didn’t think he was coming and that hurt a lot more than I wanted it to. When he did show up, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. I don’t know who I am anymore.

  “I happen to know a lot. I was trained by a professional surfer.”

  He might have smirked, but I wasn’t sure, so I let that one go. “Who?”

  “Just take my word for it, nosy. He won a lot more competitions than you did.”

  He did smirk. I was torn between being in complete lust with this guy and aching to kick him in the balls. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but since he didn’t show you how to stand up on your board, he did you a hell of a disservice.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I know that he didn’t know he was talking about my grandfather, but it still pissed me off. “Do you know who Wayne French was?”

  I could see in his eyes that he did. He got that look of hero worship that every surfer did when they heard his name. “Of course. He was one of the greatest. He… No way! You are not telling me that Wayne French taught you how to surf? Please, don’t tell me he taught you how to crouch on your board like you’re playing a game of limbo.”

  I gave him an even dirtier look. “He taught me how to surf. Unfortunately, I was just a kid and he died before he finished teaching me…” Damn it! Now I had a damned lump in my throat. Shit! I was not going to cry in front of this guy.

  “How did you know Wayne French?”

  “Never mind. Teach me.”

  I didn’t think he believed I did know Wayne French. I wondered if he’d believe he was my grandfather and that he raised me. “Okay,” he smirked again. “I saw you paddle out and pop up, but then your feet got all screwed up and when you stood up, or tried to, your stance was all off. You’ll never ride a big wave if you’re not balanced on your board. You have to get those feet planted right off the bat and then you can maintain your balance as the wave takes you up and brings you back down.”

  “Okay, so let’s try it.”

  “No, not on the water. Lay the board down here.”

  “On the beach?”

  “Yeah, right here,” he pointed at a spot near his feet. I pulled the board out of the stand where it was stuck and dropped it in front of him…barely missing his toes. I smiled my sweetest smile and said,

  “Oops, that was close.”

  He shook his head at me and said, “Lay down on your belly.”

  I was glad I still had my shorts on. I know I let him see me naked already…and a lot more, but somehow since it was dark and we were in the water, I was sure I looked a lot better last night. I lay down on my stomach and waited. When he didn’t say anything for a long time I looked up at him. He was staring at my ass. “Do you mind, perv?”

  He grinned, “I don’t mind at all…very nice.” I started to push up as he laughed. “I’m sorry. Come on, I’ll be serious.” I glared at him and dropped back down in push-up position. “Okay, now pop-up for me, Summer.”

  I pushed up with my arms and bent my knees. I brought my legs up underneath me and did it all in one quick motion the way I remember Grandpa showing me. “Not bad. Stand up for a minute.” I stood and he took hold of my shoulders and spun me so I was facing the ocean and away from him. I could feel his chest and stomach against my back and when he spoke, his warm breath tickled my ear. “Close your eyes.”

  “If this is some kind of perv trick…”

  I felt his body shake as he chuckled. If this was a perv trick, I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. “It’s not a trick. Pay attention.” Easy for him to say, he didn’t have a surf god breathing on his neck. He still had his hands on my arms, too. I wasn’t sure how much of this I’d be able to take and still stick to my guns about no sex. Now that we were having skin to skin contact, I wondered why I’d make up such a stupid rule. I closed my eyes and felt him move his fingers against my upper arms, brushing the skin softly wi
th his rough fingertips.

  “Now walk.” I had no idea what he was doing, but I walked. He kept his big hands on my arms and he walked with me. I took about ten steps and he said, “Okay, stop.” I did and stood there with my eyes still closed. I was beginning to have a fantasy where his full lips brushed up against mine and that was all it took for me to break my own rule when he said, “Open your eyes.” I opened them. He let go of my arms and stepped around in front of me. “You’re right footed.”

  “Yeah,” I almost made a sarcastic comment about how brilliant he was. I decided against it and instead, I said, “I’m right-handed, too. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “When Wayne was teaching you…” I could tell he was trying hard to believe that. I guess I appreciated his effort. “Did he talk to you about your dominant foot?”

  “Yeah, a lot actually because he was…oh shit!”

  He grinned. I think he finally believed that I did know Wayne. “He was goofy-footed.”

  “Yeah, he was left-handed, too. He did tell me to land on the ball of my dominant foot First, but in my head I was trying to picture him doing it.”

  “You jumped up with your left foot dominant. When you stood up, it put you off balance.”

  I grinned. “Problem solved then, thanks, teach.”

  “Oh, we’re not even close to finished. Back to the board.” I curled my lip and went back over to the board. I thought he was going to make me lay back down on my belly, but instead, he said, “We’re going to practice the pop-up again.” For the next hour, I heard the word again a lot. He had me pop-up and stand over and over and over. I kept forgetting my feet and getting them tangled up. I was getting frustrated with myself, but he was patient. He was also very hands-on, and each time he touched me to adjust my foot or my leg or when he put his hands on my waist to adjust my stance, another piece of me melted inside. Jesus, I’m a hormonal mess.

  After what felt like the one hundredth pop-up, he said, “You’re getting it, good.” He looked at the expensive watch on his arm and said, “How about we get some lunch and come back and try it on water afterwards?” Lunch sounded great. I had missed whatever Ace had scratched together for breakfast this morning because I left so early. I had to make up a story to keep Bennie from following me. I told him it was the anniversary of Grandpa’s death and I wanted to go to church and say a prayer for him. I know…a lie about church and prayer can’t be good. It was the one place I could think of that he’d give me some privacy, though. He was suspicious and in a really foul mood when I got back last night. I didn’t want to have to referee a fight I was sure Bennie would lose. But I also didn’t have any money and I wasn’t going to just go with Drake and expect him to pay… “My treat,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. He was either reading my mind or just remembered I was flat-assed broke.

  “Okay, I could eat.” What the hell was I doing?

  He grinned at me. That’s exactly what I was doing – letting my hormones lead me around by the nose. “Great! Come on, we can leave our stuff in this little cave over here.” We carried the boards and his little canvas bag over to the cave. It was a lot smaller than the one I live in, but my mind was always planning for the next time we get run off. “You ready?” Drake was looking at me funny and I realized I’d actually been scoping the place out.

  “Um, yeah, I’m ready.” We hiked up the cliff and walked the mile and a half to downtown without much conversation. He took me to a little fish and chips place on the beach. It wasn’t much more than a kiosk, but they had tables out front. I’d had their food before – leftovers, of course. It’s not bad. We both ordered the fish basket and a coke and when we sat down with it he said,

  “So, tell me how you knew Wayne French.”

  I had just taken a bite of my fish. I made him wait until I chewed it up and took a drink of my Coke before I said, “He was my grandfather.” I watched his face expecting to see disbelief, but instead, I realized that he was studying my features. I actually look a lot like Grandpa, and I think he just realized it.

  He smiled suddenly and said, “Well, I’ll be damned. Wayne French’s granddaughter. Damn! He’s my hero.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “He was mine, too. He raised me until I was fourteen, and then he died.”

  “Yeah, I was in Bali when I heard. I was sick over it. What happened to him?”

  “The doctor said he had a blood clot or something that went to his lungs. He was in the hospital before that because he had pneumonia. He never realized how old he’d gotten. He just kept trying to do the same things he did when he was twenty.”

  “So, who did you live with after he died? Were your parents still around?” I thought about whether or not I wanted to answer that question. In the past four and a half years, Bennie was the only living person who knew my whole story. I wasn’t comfortable enough yet with Drake, so I gave him the abridged version.

  “My mother died when I was three, and I never knew my father. Grandpa was touring at the time, but when he got back, he took me and for the next eleven years, I went where he did.”

  “That’s amazing. I can barely keep track of myself when I’m on the road. How did he manage it? Did you have a nanny?”

  I laughed. His mindset is so different from the people I usually hang around with. “No. I’m not sure how much you really know about my grandpa, but he was an old hippie. He was born poor and raised poor and even after he started winning all of those competitions, he lived like a poor man. He wouldn’t have thought of hiring a nanny. We got by.”

  “So, did you have to go to foster care when he died?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I popped a fry in my mouth. “But I didn’t stay.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I just left. I got on a bus, and I’ve been moving ever since.”

  “You’ve been homeless since you were fourteen?” he looked horrified. I’m not sure if it was for me or about me – I have a hard time not always seeing the worst.

  “I do okay,” I said. I wished he had never brought it up now. I hated that look in his eyes. It was the one people gave me when they passed me in the street and wondered if they should give me money or something. I liked it when he just looked at me like any other woman, the way he usually did.

  “So, what about Wayne’s money? Wouldn’t you be entitled to that?”

  “What money?”

  “Summer, I made three hundred grand last year and I didn’t even make it to the World Championship series. Wayne did – twice – and he had endorsements…”

  I stopped chewing. “You made three hundred grand surfing?”

  He laughed, “That’s what you got out of what I just said?”

  I shrugged, trying not to think of what I could do with that kind of money and said, “I just had no idea. I don’t know what he did with his money. He didn’t spend much of it, that’s for sure. He had a Woody that he’d been driving since he was a teenager when we were home. We lived in a pretty crappy two-bedroom house… I have no idea where the money went.”

  “We should find out-”

  “We?”

  “Well, you, but I’d be willing to help you. Summer, that’s your money.”

  All this time I’d been so busy surviving, the thought of Grandpa having money had never entered my mind. I wasn’t even sure I could wrap my head around it now. Growing up, I always had clothes and a warm place to sleep and plenty of food in my belly, but that was really it. We spent a lot of time at the beach, but we didn’t take vacations and we didn’t really have shit. “Maybe he gave it away. I mean, seriously, there was no money floating around when I was a kid.”

  “Maybe he did,” he said. “But either way, you haven’t lost anything. Can I check into it for you?”

  The old fears of being found and taken back to that hell hole of a foster home slipped back in. I had to remind myself they were irrational now. I’m an adult. They can’t take me back. I sucked in a breath and shrugged again
, feigning nonchalance, and said, “Sure, go for it.” Acting like I’m perfectly content being broke and homeless seems somehow less pathetic to me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DRAKE

  All morning while I was watching Summer practice her pop-ups, I had to keep a tight rein on my parts down south. I didn’t want her to think that was all I wanted from her, but damn, do I want it. She has absolutely no clue how incredible she is – and then I find out she’s Wayne French’s granddaughter! I couldn’t wait to tell Kobe. She said she had somewhere to be after we ate, but before she took off, she thanked me for the lessons and lunch. She has a lot of pride and I can tell it’s hard for her to accept help, so that meant a lot to me.

  I found Kobe behind the counter in his shop with his bare feet up on a stool, taking a hit off of a bong…maybe this has something to do with his drop in business. “Hey, man! What’s up?”

  “Well, I found something out today and I’m dying to tell someone… Guess who Summer’s grandfather is?”

  He gave me an amused look and said, “Who’s Summer?”

  “Oh, shut the hell up and put your big smelly feet down so I can sit.” He laughed and moved his feet. Then he offered me the bong. “No thanks, but back to what I was saying… Wayne French was Summer’s grandfather.”

  “No way, man! Are you sure she’s not just yanking your chain?”

  “I really don’t think so. She actually opened up to me.”

  He raised his burly eyebrows and smiled again, “What all did she open up?”

  “Are you going to let me tell you the story or are you going to keep interrupting?” Kobe is one of my favorite people, but for some reason, sex with Summer felt a lot different than it usually did with other women. Something about it was special and I didn’t want to brag about it like I usually do. He was quiet, so I said, “He actually raised her out on the circuit.”