Dear California (Martin Family Book 2)

by Brooke St. James

  "I ordered you a salad," my dad said.

  Cole leaned toward me as I sat. "I tried to make him give you a sandwich instead of that rabbit food, but he insisted it's what you wanted."

  I giggled. "Oh, I want a sandwich, believe me. But Dad's probably right. I just ate four days worth of carbs at Logan's table."

  "What's that, two bites?" Cole asked.

  I looked at him and smiled, thinking if this handsome stranger did indeed rescue me from my life, he would let me eat carbs. "I'll just take a bite of your sandwich," I said, eyeballing his plate like it looked tasty to me. It was actually a tortilla wrap of some sort, but it was still really carb-y compared to the mound of spinach and fish I had sitting in front of me.

  Cole took a knife and began cutting the end off of his wrap. It took me a second to realize what he was doing, but when I did, I said, "Whoa, whoa, I was just playing around about taking some of it."

  He continued cutting and ended up placing a section of his wrap on the edge of my salad plate. "I can't take that," I said, even though I really wanted it. I gestured to his plate. "Then you won't have enough."

  He let out a laugh. "I already don't have enough," he said. "I'm stopping for a burger after we leave here."

  I couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out. He was totally serious about stopping for a burger, and for whatever reason, that struck me as funny. I argued no further. In fact, I picked up the portion of wrap he set on my plate and ate it in three bites. He asked me if I wanted more, but I declined.

  The three of them talked for an hour before we left the restaurant. Logan came to our table on his way out, and I enjoyed watching Cole put the pieces together about him being Logan Ritchie instead of some other random guy named Logan. He was surprised for a second, but then he just smiled and shook Logan's hand like he was a normal guy.

  "My little cousin is going to brutally murder me when she finds out I met Logan Ritchie," Cole said once we were settled in our seats in the back of my dad's car.

  My dad laughed at his choice of words. "Is your cousin a fan of Logan's?" he asked Cole.

  "Yes sir. She's already blowing up my phone about your daughter."

  My head whipped around to look at Cole. "Me?" I asked with a hand to my chest.

  He nodded.

  "What'd she say?"

  He shrugged. "She text me about twenty times and I think they're mostly about you. I haven't really had time to pay attention to them. I think she might have seen the picture your hipster buddy took of us earlier."

  I tilted my head and stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. I had totally forgotten about Tyson taking photographs of us. Or maybe I knew he did, but thought he wouldn't dare post them because I had on the glasses.

  "You can read them if you want," Cole said, taking his phone from his pocket and handing it to me.

  I took it from him, but didn't turn it on. "And this is your cousin?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Amelia. She's eighteen."

  I pressed the home button, and when the home screen flashed, I pushed the button to go to his texts. I did it all reluctantly, making sure to let him see what I was doing, but he just sat back and let me navigate his phone like he didn't have a thing to hide. Amelia's texts happened to be what came up when I pushed the text icon, and I smiled at the sight of all the little short texts with emojis. He put his finger on the screen to scroll to the beginning of what she had written, and I focused on the one he pointed to.

  Amelia: "Where R U?!?!"

  Amelia: "Coal, U home?"

  Amelia: "R U in California?!?"

  Amelia: "R U with Liv and Tel right now?"

  I glanced at the times and could see that all of the texts were a few minutes apart for about the last hour.

  Amelia: "Mom just told me U in Cali. I saw a pic of you on Liv and Tels Insta. I know it was U! Call me back!!!"

  Amelia: "Where R U, Coal?"

  Amelia: "I'm staring at this pic on Insta, and I know it's U. My friends are texting me asking about it. Text me back."

  I looked at Cole and giggled at his wide-eyed expression.

  "Do you spell your name C-o-a-l?" I asked.

  He laughed. "No, and she knows how to spell it. She just does that to be silly. When she was little, she was scared I was gonna disappear at Christmas and get put in some bad kid's stocking. Anyway, she remembers that, and she just always spells my name c-o-a-l to be funny."

  I glanced at the screen. There were a few more texts, all asking "Coal" how he ended up on my social media, and begging him to text her back. I thumbed through the last few before tapping the curser.

  I looked at Cole. "Can I write her back from your phone?" I asked.

  He smiled. "Are you gonna tell her it's you? Because if you're trying to be me, you might want to answer with about five words or less."

  I let out a little laugh. "I want to answer as me, if that's okay."

  "It's fine," he said, with a little nod.

  I smiled as I stared at his screen.

  Me (from Cole's phone): "This is Livy Torres. I stole your cousin's phone to tell you hi. Hugs from the city of angels."

  I included a few kissy face emojis before pressing send.

  I watched to see if she would respond right away, which she did.

  Amelia: "OMG, are U kiddin' me? UR so awesome! I love UR videos so much. R U with my cousin rite now?" She included about twenty emojis—a vast array of them.

  Me: "Thank you, and yes, I'm with Cole."

  It felt good typing that even though the way I meant it wasn't the way I wanted to mean it.

  Amelia: "U look so cute 2gether in that pic! I knew it was him when I saw it."

  Me: "I like him."

  My dad had asked Cole a question, and he wasn't watching me type, but I wrote that because I wanted him to go back and read it later.

  Amelia: "Is this Cole messin' wit me?"

  I couldn't help but notice she spelled his name correctly, and I smiled.

  Me: "Nope. It's Liv."

  I took a quick, silly-faced selfie from his phone and attached it to the text.

  Amelia: "Oh snap! It's U! R U gonna come back here with him?!?!?"

  Me: "Maybe sometime." (Again, this was something I wanted him to read later.)

  Amelia: About ten emojis followed by: "Pleeeease! U n Tel would luv it here!!!"

  Me: "I bet! You never know. Gotta go, love. Just wanted to say hi." I included several emojis of my own, including hearts, and smiley faces before handing Cole his phone.

  Chapter 6

  "You just made her day," Cole said, taking his phone from me.

  My dad picked up his phone and began having a conversation with someone else.

  "She's sweet," I said, feeling relieved for the inkling of privacy.

  "She's gonna bug me about it for weeks when I get home. She likes pop music and famous people and all that stuff."

  I shifted to look at him. "And what about you?"

  He smiled and shrugged. "I like any kind of music and any kind of people, I guess."

  I smiled. I was taken aback by the combination of masculinity and sweetness.

  The drive from the restaurant back to my dad's office was only about ten minutes, even with traffic, and I caught myself dreading the moment when we had to get out of the car.

  "What are you gonna tell her?" I asked, thinking about his cousin wanting all the details.

  "Tell who?" he asked, having no idea to whom I was referring.

  "Amelia," I said, since I read her name on the screen multiple times.

  He shrugged. "The truth."

  "Which is what?"

  "That I had a meeting with your dad and I barely even hung out with you."

  My dad was still talking on the phone and not paying attention to us at all, or Cole probably would have never said that.

  I shook my head and pursed my lips in an expression that said us barely hanging out was a crying shame.

  "That's a terrible thing to tell
her," I said.

  Cole shrugged and smirked at me. "It's the truth," he said, as if it was his duty to inform his cousin of the accurate account.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and got to my Instagram account. I glanced at the picture we'd taken earlier—the one Tyson had taken when I still had on my glasses. I was surprised they posted it at first, but after looking at it for a few seconds, I realized they posted it because of Cole. An unknown gorgeous guy was just the type of thing my sister loved to stir the pot. I had planned on handing it straight to Cole to demonstrate that we'd done more than just barely hang out together, but I couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the comments.

  In case you didn’t already know, people in the world aren't always nice. I had gotten really good at not looking at comments on our social media, but I had to glance at this one. There were already two hundred comments, and I skimmed over several of them. Glasses, love the glasses, who's the guy, love you, glasses, who's the hottie, is this your boyfriend, glasses, hate the glasses, hate you, love you. My eyes passed over ten or twelve of them before getting back to the picture and handing the phone to Cole.

  He glanced at it before looking up at me with a smile. I stared at the corner of his mouth as he smiled, marveling at the way his cheek curved around it. His smile was mesmerizing.

  "Do I have something in my teeth?" he asked, running his tongue over his front teeth like he was actually concerned.

  "No," I said, realizing I'd just been caught staring.

  "Don't y'all need to talk to my agent before you post that stuff?" he asked motioning to my phone.

  "Do you have an agent?" I asked.

  His smile broadened. "No," he said. "Would you really have to talk to him if I did?"

  I leaned into him, nudging him with my shoulder for tricking me. "No," I said. "People post pictures of me without asking all the time. At least this is a good picture of you. People go out of their way to get bad pictures of us."

  "I'm sorry," he said. Our eyes met, and I could see by his expression that he meant it. "I'm really sorry," he repeated as if he might actually be able to imagine how it felt to be scrutinized constantly. I appreciated his sincere expression even though I wasn't entirely sure that's what he was thinking. "I'll really take you home with me if you want to come." He said that part quietly because my dad was in the process of hanging up the phone.

  My insides were all twisted up at the thought of taking off to live in the swamp with Cole Martin. I had never wanted to do something that ridiculous that badly. I knew I'd never do such a crazy thing, but I felt dizzy with anticipation just thinking about it. I was breathless. I giggled because I had trouble forming words. On top of that, we were pulling up to the curb in front of my dad's office building, and our privacy was over. I was so frustrated that I could feel blood rising to my cheeks. I couldn’t believe this was goodbye. It just couldn’t be that way. We got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk in almost the same spot where I'd fallen earlier that morning. My dad smiled and reached out to shake Cole's hand. "I look forward to doing business with you, Cole."

  "Same here," Cole said. "It's gonna be good."

  My dad patted Cole on the shoulder twice before wrapping his arm around me. "I'm gonna head back to my office," he said, looking at Cole. "Safe travels back to Louisiana." Then my dad shifted to look at me. "Why don't you let Carlos take you back to the house?" He gestured to the black car that was still sitting curbside. "I have some work to do. I won't need him back for a while."

  I glanced at Cole, who was still standing there even though my dad had already sort of said goodbye to him.

  "Cole already offered to give me a ride home," I said, even though he absolutely did no such thing. My dad glanced toward Cole with a perplexed expression, like he hadn't even noticed we'd been talking.

  "I definitely want to give her a ride," Cole said, nodding. He reached into his pocket and came up with a key. "I'm parked right over there. It's no problem at all."

  I made a habit of traveling the world with no parental supervision, so my dad wasn't necessarily concerned with how I got home as long as I was comfortable with my situation. I assured him that I was and told him thanks for letting me tag along at lunch.

  My dad walked into his office building, leaving Cole and me standing there. I had on flats, and he was at least a head taller than me. I had to peer up at him, and I squinted into the sunlight. "Thank goodness I said you were giving me a ride," I said. "That was close. We almost said goodbye right there."

  Cole cocked his head, and smiled at me, shifting so that his shadow fell onto my face and I wouldn't have to squint. "Thank goodness," he agreed. His deep voice gave me chills, and I was absolutely lost in his smile.

  "Yeah, thank goodness," I said, pushing at his shoulder, and narrowing my eyes at him. "What if I wouldn't have said anything? Would you have just let me ride off with that driver?"

  "I guess I would've," Cole said. "I didn't really think I had a choice."

  I put my hands on my hips and leveled him with that same narrow-eyed expression, which made him laugh. It was a real laugh that made me giggle in return. "Seriously, though. That was close," I said.

  He smiled. "That was close." He gestured to the black car as we took off walking together. "You almost got in that car and took off."

  "I sure did," I agreed. "And what would we have done then?"

  "Your dad's driver would have taken you home, and I'd be walking to my car alone instead of with you."

  "Yep," I said, agreeing with his assessment. "And it's gonna happen again in about thirty minutes."

  "What's gonna happen?" he asked.

  "Goodbye," I said. "If you bring me home like you said, we're gonna be stuck saying goodbye again in about thirty minutes."

  "You already dreading it or something?" he asked.

  I let out a little laugh. "I guess so," I said.

  Because of my connections, and what I did for a living, I was used to guys falling all over themselves to get close to me. Cole was different. He was so good at acting like he didn't care about my status in Hollywood that I honestly thought he didn't. He didn't seem like the type of man who would tell a girl something just because he thought it was what she wanted to hear, and it was refreshing.

  Cole glanced at me as we walked to the parking garage. "I don't have to be anywhere until 10AM tomorrow when I go to the airport."

  "I don't have to be anywhere," I said. I started to add some sort of time frame—like maybe two weeks when we left for Dubai, but I left it at that.

  It was at that moment that I realized it was true. Nobody was making me go to Dubai. I was in control of my own life. It hit me right then that I didn't have to be anywhere indefinitely. I was a grown woman and I could decide where I wanted to go next.

  "I don't have to be anywhere, ever," I added, smiling and shrugging at him.

  "Where to first, then?" he asked, twirling the key ring around his finger and catching them in his hand as we walked.

  "Is there anything you wanted to do while you were here?"

  He shrugged. "I rented a nice car," he said. "I thought I might take a drive, but I doubt you'd want to—"

  I cut him off since taking a drive with him sounded like just about the best thing ever. "I'd love a drive," I said.

  He pushed the remote as we walked onto the third floor of the parking garage, and I saw that he was driving a sleek, black BMW.

  "Nice," I said, seeing the taillights flash.

  He smiled. "I know; it's fun."

  "I'm surprised you even fit into that thing."

  He laughed. "It's tight, but I make it work. It's like driving a little Hot Wheels car compared to my Chevy."

  "Is that what you drive in your normal life? A Chevy?"

  "Yep," he said.

  "A truck?" I asked. I glanced at him to see that he was nodding.

  "I have to drive something that can haul things and pull my boat." He smiled at me as he opened the passenger's door. I ma
de no move to sit in the car. Instead I just stared at him.

  "I live right on the bayou," he said. "I can drive my boat to my dad's house."

  "Do you play beach volleyball?" I asked.

  He shook his head and gave me a curious grin. "When the opportunity arises, which has been about three times in my whole life, why?"

  I shrugged and reached out to squeeze his upper arm, which was just as muscular as I thought it would be. "I pictured you playing beach volleyball."

  "If you want to picture correctly, I do four hours a week boxing, three hours weights, and a ton of yard work."

  "Sounds like a pretty tough regimen," I said.

  "I guess I'm a creature of habit."

  "You said yard work is part of your workout. Do you have a big yard or something?"

  He smiled. "I can't see my neighbors." He paused and shrugged a shoulder. "If the woods were cleared, I'd be able to, but as it stands, it's just me and the bayou."

  I almost said out loud that he was capable of rescuing me like we eluded to earlier, but I kept it to myself. "I'll bet it's a nice place to read a book," I said, imagining what I'd do if I was there.

  He let out a little laugh that reading was the first thing I mentioned. "It is a nice place to read, actually. As long as you're sitting by a citronella plant. It's hot this time of year, but the property's got a lot of shade."

  "What's a citronella plant?" I asked, getting hung up on that part of what he said. "It's just a plant that repels mosquitos. They don't like the smell of it. You better go ahead and spray yourself, too, if you're gonna be out there long enough to read a book."

  I smiled. "Imma be out there all afternoon," I said, enjoying the fantasy of disappearing to his house in the woods.

  "Oh, ya definitely need ta spray yaself, sha," he said, using a thick accent that I didn't recognize.

  "What's sha?"

  He smiled. "We say that all the time back home. I think it's a variation of cher, which is 'dear' in French. Some people say the -er part when they pronounce it, but my mama and grandma always said, sha."

  "So, you called me 'dear' just now?"