by Becca Barnes
As I headed for the exit, I took another glance at my watch. Our interaction had taken all of ten minutes. I’d scheduled an hour.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t expected to get down to brass tacks if she’d shown immediate interest, but I hadn’t expected her to practically throw herself and her business at me. Dad would be pleased as punch. Everything about that meeting had screamed, “lowball it.”
And now I had forty-five minutes to kill before picking up Ellie.
Ellie.
How could she stand working for that orange simpleton?
A seed of warmth sprouted somewhere deep in my core, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Certainly not with Felicia, but not even before that.
College. I’d felt this way in college when I’d still been a Film Studies major. It wasn’t necessarily the subject matter or the classes. It was the act of going into a room each day, knowing that I’d learn something new and see something in a way I’d never seen it before.
I wasn’t sure why this dog whisperer was having the same effect on him, but it wasn’t something I wanted to examine too closely lest the feeling evaporate. It was fragile. I knew that much.
And temporary, I reminded himself. Just like my initial college major.
At least it appeared that the deal would be a simple, straightforward one. Definitely no need to mine information from Ellie tonight. Which was a relief. Not that I was doing anything illegal or unethical in buying the store’s name. Yes, I’d try to lowball Kat, but I was sure we’d hammer out a fair price.
All the same, I had other things I’d much rather do to occupy my time with Ellie.
“You’re early!”
Speaking of her. Ellie came careening around the corner, Bentley attentive at her heel.
“Hey.” I kissed her on the cheek and took a step back. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you. You look amazing yourself.” She opened the door to the spa and shooed Bentley inside. “I hope I didn’t get the time wrong.”
“No. Not at all. I was already in the area on a business errand. I was getting ready to kill some time, but if you’re ready, we could go walk on the beach before dinner.” I couldn’t see any way how she could make herself look better than she already did.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. “I was just going to run in and check something in the store really fast.”
She placed her hand on the doorknob where I’d just emerged.
“Or”—I placed my hand over hers, well-aware that Kat was still in that store—“we could go catch the sunset over at the bar up the beach from where I’m staying.”
“The Fuzzy Palm?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds good. I’m friends with the owner there, Ed.”
“Is there anyone in this town who you’re not friends with?”
“Nope.” She didn’t even pretend to think about it.
“You’re friends with everyone?”
“Yup.”
But I thought about the orange-hued woman I’d practically had to pry off of me and wondered about the truth of Ellie’s assertion.
Surely even she had her limits.
* * *
After downing a nice, smooth, locally-brewed IPA that Ellie recommended at the bar, we headed to the restaurant a short stroll down the boardwalk. The reservation was for eight o’clock, and we were still early. But as it wasn’t peak season, I felt confident I could get a table with a decent view, especially after I’d slipped the maÎtre’d an extra hundred.
And a view it was.
Breathtaking yellows, oranges, pinks, and purples blended together like melting pastel sherbet as the sun held onto its last hints of light. I looked down and realized that my hand had found Ellie’s somewhere in the process of watching the last remnant of sunlight disappear over the horizon. A pod of dolphins jumped through the waves in the distance. In that moment, I could understand the hold this place had on people. Why vacationers came back year after year and why locals stayed put.
“You hungry?” I asked, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Starving. I could eat a nun.”
”That escalated quickly.” I held the door open for her as we walked into the trendy eatery I’d chosen. Like all voguish spots, it had a one-word name—Pyre—and a description that defied logic. Vegan fusion steakhouse...what did that even mean?
As the host showed us to our table, I couldn’t help thinking it was the type of place Felicia would have gobbled up. Me? I would have been happy with tacos again. But I’d asked around for the hottest restaurant in town. And this was it.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to impress Ellie. Or to treat her to a super-fancy dinner in order assuage some needless guilt for not being completely upfront and honest about my identity and intentions from the beginning. Either way, Pyre it was.
“Is this place worthy of their Yelp reviews?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve actually never eaten here.”
“Seriously? I guess it’s true what they say about the locals having their own spots.”
“More that it’s a bit out of my budget.” She said it without a hint of resentment in her voice, then shrugged and added, “Nothing like spending a month’s salary on a single dinner.”
I blinked, attempting to assimilate this new bit of information. She’d told me that her dad had died. I’d made the assumption that she’d inherited money. And it had been a good assumption. What man worth his salt wouldn’t have an adequate life insurance policy set up to take care of his only daughter?
Buying the S’Paw Box name might be the best thing I ever did for her. Kat didn’t seem to care what happened to her own business. And clearly Kat wasn’t paying Ellie what she deserved. Ellie should leave. Find a place that would pay her what she was worth. Or start her own place. I knew plenty of people who would happily loan her the capital. Starting with MacCarthy Enterprises.
Stop it. Doesn’t involve me, I reminded himself. And if I went prying, it would violate my number one rule of keeping personal feelings out of my business dealings. This dinner was on the verge of breaking the rule as it was.
The waiter brought us our menus, and Ellie bit her lower lip as she perused it. Holy hell, that woman had luscious lips. Lips I could feast on. Lips that would leave me begging for her to return the favor. Lips that—
“So what sounds good to you?” Ellie looked up from the menu, oblivious to the fact that I’d been ravishing every square inch of her with my mind for the last three minutes.
“Are you asking me to order for you?” I felt my back stiffen. It wasn’t Ellie’s fault. I knew it. But her question brought back a wave of Felicia.
“No.” She gave me a funny look. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out how tofu tartare is a thing.”
“Tofu...ugh.” I finally glanced down at the menu. Ugh didn’t even begin to cover it. Of all the pretentious, ridiculous, overpriced...what was I even doing at this place?
“Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Tofu tartare?”
“But—”
“No buts.” I cracked a smile and pulled out my wallet, tossing a couple hundreds on the table for wasting the waiter’s time.
She gaped at the bills as I led her out to the sidewalk.
“Are you, umm, crazy?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You just threw a massive wad of cash on that table for...nothing. So I have to consider the possibility that you might be insane.”
“Nope. Just rich. And slightly nauseated by the idea of tofu tartare, whatever that is.”
“At least we’re in agreement there.”
“How do you feel about barbecue?” I asked.
“Right under nun-slappable.”
“I saw a food truck up the beach from my boat.”
“Willy’s?” Her face lit up. “Perfect.”
“Is this Willy guy going t
o know who you are and adore you?” I tried to keep any hint of jealousy out of my voice but was finding it difficult.
“I might have been his kids’ favorite babysitter when I was in junior high.” She squeezed my hand, and it was like a bolt of electricity shot up my arm, straight to my heart. “Oh, and order the Ellie. It’s delicious.”
“They named a dish after you? Are you serious?”
“Serious as a smoked brisket-induced heartburn attack.”
“You had me at brisket.”
* * *
After ordering our platters and drinks--another local brew for me, a frozen, fruity concoction for her--we settled into one of the empty cabanas that dotted the almost-deserted beach.
“So.” The Adirondack chair squeaked as Ellie leaned back in it, diving into her sandwich without a trace of self-consciousness to be found. “What do you like the most about your job?”
“The money,” I replied without a hint of a pause. I dug my bare feet into the sand until they hit a cool layer untouched by the day’s bright sunshine. I’d never tire of that sensation.
“At least you’re honest.” She laughed, and I joined in, fully aware of what a jackass I must sound like.
“Actually,” I said, “that’s not really true. I mean, yes, the money’s great. But I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, so it’s not like I know any different. That sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”
“Again, at least you’re honest.”
“The thing I really love most about my job is the excitement right at the beginning of a project. My brain feels so alive and alert when I’m brainstorming every possible outcome of any action we take. I have to plan for every contingency, every success or failure. It’s exhilarating. It’s all on my shoulders.”
“And the worst part?”
“Other than being all on my shoulders?” I took a long draught of my beer, thinking. “I don’t have a home.”
She snorted. “So rich...and homeless?”
“Oh, I own multiple dwellings.” I leaned back, a frown tugging at the corners of my mouth, and stared at the waves as they rumbled up and licked the shoreline. “But no home. No place I’m really attached to.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and when I looked over at her, I could tell that she meant it.
“For what?”
“I don’t know what I’d do without this.” She gestured around us, and she didn’t need to elaborate.
For a moment, I felt a sharp stab of envy deep within my gut. Ellie might be poor as a churchmouse, but she never doubted Lavender Beach was her home for an instant, did she? She knew she belonged here. She knew she was loved here. And she’d never looked into the eyes of someone she thought loved her and found only treachery in return.
All for the love of money.
“What about you?” I said. “What’s the best part of your job?
“That’s easy,” she said. “I’m worshiped like a goddess all day.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“It’s very nice being the object of adoration.”
“By the four-legged set?”
“And by a few owners who think I hung the moon because their dogs love me so much. I told you, people are crazy about their pets.”
“Yeah.” I was banking a cool eleven million dollars on it. “And the worst?”
“Also easy.” She sighed and took a slow sip of her margarita. “Working for my wicked stepmother.”
Thirteen
Ellie
Mac started choking on his beer, and I whacked him on the back.
“Are you okay?” I lifted his chin, but he looked away without meeting my gaze.
“Yeah, yeah,” he finally said. “Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe. You were...you were saying?”
“Working for my stepmother. It’s the worst.” Even thinking about Kat inheriting everything my dad had worked so hard to build made my stomach churn and throat tighten. Kat, who didn’t give a chihuahua’s ass-cheek what happened to S’Paw Box or its employees or customers. Kat, who didn’t even like animals.
“So your stepmother owns the store?”
“Yup.”
After my father’s death, and after the shock of finding out that since Dad had died intestate--meaning Kat had inherited everything--I had tried to make a go of friendship with her.
Fat lot of good that had done me. It wasn’t that Kat went out of her way to be mean. She just didn’t care about anything. Anything real at least. Honestly, I was surprised that Kat hadn’t attempted to sell the store yet. But then again, why would she when the place was her own personal piggy bank?
It was a daily battle to not grow bitter.
“But she’s only—” Mac stopped himself from whatever he was about to say.
“She’s only…?”
Mac hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat.
“I meant to say she’s only an idiot if she doesn’t treat you like the amazing asset you are. You’re clearly the greatest attraction that store has.”
“You gathered that from the half hour you’ve spent observing me at work?” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, I did. That first day, you knew the stock inside out. It was you who handled the shampoo fiasco with finesse. You talked me into buying that ridiculously overpriced harness. And you attract clients like flies to cow dung.”
“Cow poop. So romantic.” I let out a fake, simpering sigh.
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
“It’s...complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it? If you don’t like working for your stepmother, you should take your skills elsewhere.”
“You remind me of my best friend Isobel.”
“So Isobel is a brilliant, savvy businessperson who knows what she’s talking about?” As he said it, he inched his knee toward mine until they touched.
“Like I said, it’s complicated.” If I couldn’t get my closest friend in the world to understand my reasoning behind sticking with S’Paw Box, there was no way I could explain it to a man I’d met only a few days ago. A man I barely knew.
But the thing was that I didn’t feel like I barely knew Mac. I felt like I’d seen glimmers of his deep-down self. And he didn’t strike me offhand as someone who exposed that true self to many.
“I’m kind of powerless in the situation,” I said.
“You’re anything but powerless.”
“Maybe. And hey, I didn’t talk you into buying anything.” I punched his arm playfully. “You can’t pin that one on me. You picked out that harness without even looking at the price tag. You must really love your friend’s dog.”
“Uh, yeah. About that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and set his beer bottle in the sand. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Fourteen
Mac
“Yes?” Ellie scooted forward to the edge of her seat.
“I’m, umm, I’ve been thinking about getting a dog of my own.” Why the hell did I say that?
I needed an animal to take care of like I needed a hole in the head. My lifestyle was the exact opposite of one that would be conducive to any kind of pet ownership. I never stayed in one place more than a few weeks, a couple months at best. The closest I’d come to having a pet had been Felicia’s cat, and that thing had been evil incarnate. I still had the scars to prove it.
“Really?” Ellie clasped her hands together and squealed. “You’ll have to come by the store tomorrow then. We have an adoption event in the morning. There are so many sweet dogs to choose from. What kind are you looking for?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Like, at all. And I still wasn’t sure why I’d even said it, other than avoidance of a difficult topic. I was good at that. Avoidance. Evasion. Keeping my guard up. It was necessary in my line of business. But something about this fun, free-spirited, flirty girl made me want to tear down every wall I’d ever built.
At the same time, telling her about my mission of buying her stepmother�
��s store name would complicate things considerably. Besides, even if Ellie did hate her stepmom, I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t turn right around and tell the woman to hold out for more money. That could cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars.
It wasn’t like I needed to go digging for new ways to disappoint my dad.
No, keep it simple. Keep it uncomplicated. Keep it a meaningless jaunt, separate from whatever dealings I had with S’Paw Box.
There was another option to consider, though: the reason why I had said I wanted a dog. And she was perched on the edge of the chair next to me. Ellie’s whole being emanated a joyful glow. She had no money to her name, no family left, yet she still managed to shine happiness around her.
I wanted that.
A band struck up in the distance, and the cheerful melody of a Beach Boys tune drifted over the coastal breeze.
“May I have this dance?” I asked.
Ellie nodded. I pulled her up from her seat and gathered her in my arms. There was something about having her there. In my arms. Usually, it would seem like a protective stance--clutching her to my chest. But somehow, I was the one who felt protected with her there. Holding her made me feel more secure. Which was weird since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let my guard this far down. If anything, I should feel weak and exposed.
But I didn’t.
I just felt...right.
We swayed to the distant beat as I circled one hand around her waist and ran my free hand through her hair, smooth as silk despite the beachy waves. Again, I was struck by the softness of her--all of her.
The music slowed, and she laced her fingers behind my neck. I pulled her close and could feel her heartbeat pulse against my own as I dragged my thumb down her neck, down her collarbone, down the outer curve of her breast. It took all my self-control to keep moving. Down, down, down until it grazed her hip and landed on her outer thigh. She stretched to her tippy-toes and planted a tentative kiss to my lips.
