by Emery Rose
Remy agreed with her. “Speaking of which, I was wondering if you’d paint the nursery. We’d pay you, of course. But I was thinking it would be cool to do a beach theme. Or an underwater scene. Would you have time for that?”
I jumped at the chance. “Definitely. I’d love to do it. You don’t have to pay me.”
“Yes, I do. You should get paid for your work. Dylan thinks we should give you a space in the shop where you can sell your own designs. I think it’s his competitive streak coming out. He doesn’t like the idea of our surfboard designer selling her pieces at Lillidiva.” Remy laughed. “Shane and I agree. We think it’s a great idea.”
All I could do was stare at her with my mouth gaping like a fish. I was such a cool cucumber. “Really? He said that? And you and Shane would be okay with that? Are you sure?”
“If we weren’t cool with it, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. We’re sure. Even though Dylan is a bonehead sometimes and isn’t a big talker, he’s really smart and has a good head for business.” I could hear the pride in her voice. It was the same tone of voice Dylan used whenever he talked about Remy. They had such a strong bond and loved each other so much. It was one of Dylan’s most redeeming qualities.
Remy checked her phone. “I need to get going.” She stood up from the table and slung her bag over her shoulder. “But we’ll talk about it some more later.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Thanks.” I checked my phone for the time. I still had an hour before I needed to be at the shop. “I’ll see you later.”
She told Nicola it was nice seeing her again and waved goodbye. I watched until she was out the door before I turned to my friend with a big smile on my face. She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m still a little star-struck. Where did Dylan and Remy come from? God, they’re both hot.” She fanned herself with her hand.
I had to agree with her. They were hot. Even in SoCal which had a higher than average number of beautiful people, the St. Clair twins stood out from the crowd.
If Dylan came to my party, I was screwed.
8
Dylan
“Holy shit. You bought a fucking hotel.” Cruz tossed a Nerf basketball into the hoop attached to my glass wall. “And look at that, ladies and gentlemen, he’s smiling.”
I was over the fucking moon. It had ended up being easier than I thought. The deal had gone off without a hitch, I’d gotten The Surf Lodge for a fair price, and I’d spent most of today on the phone, hiring service providers. A construction crew for the refurbishment, and an interior design firm for the remodel.
Cruz tossed me the ball and I took the shot one-handed. It banked off the backboard and swished through the net. He retrieved the ball and bounced it off the glass wall opposite him. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Yeah, we were busy running a company. The blinds weren’t drawn, and I caught Melanie watching us. She averted her head but not before I noticed the blush on her cheeks. I pressed the remote and the machine made a soft whirring sound, the blinds lowering so slowly it was painful to watch. The blinds were sandwiched between two sheets of glass. Saved the cleaning crew from having to dust them. Saved me from feeling like I was sitting in a fishbowl.
“How did we get here? Remember when we lived on Ramen and cheap beer and struggled to pay the rent?” Cruz asked. “And now you own a fucking hotel.”
It wasn’t big or grand, but it was still ‘a fucking hotel’ and I was feeling pretty damn good about that.
I leaned back in my leather swivel chair and folded my hands behind my head, watching the ocean from my office window. The hazy gray sky met the sea and you couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began. I loved this view. Loved the ocean and the beach, especially on winter days when it was quiet and uncrowded.
“It’s a risk though,” Cruz said, ever the voice of reason. “Tying up your assets like that.”
I wasn’t tying up all my assets. That would be financial suicide. But every investment was a risk. “We wouldn’t be sitting here if we’d played it safe.”
“True.” He scrubbed his hand over his dark buzz cut and squinted at the view behind me, his face troubled. Whenever he got that look on his face, it was usually family-related.
“How’s Frankie?”
Cruz shook his head. He’d practically raised his little sister and had taken on adult responsibilities long before he should have had to.
“Got a new boyfriend. Guy’s a tool. I told him if he messes with her, I’ll beat the shit out of him.” Cruz chuckled. “He was practically pissing his pants. Haven’t seen him around since. Frankie hasn’t talked to me in a week. Said I’m ruining her life. Fucking teenage girls and their drama. I keep getting doors slammed in my face.”
I chuckled under my breath, picturing the scene over at Cruz’s house. Frankie and Cruz were always fighting about something. After we graduated college, Cruz got a place in Chula Vista and moved Frankie in with him. She hadn’t wanted to change schools and her friends were all there so Cruz made that sacrifice even though he would have preferred to move away.
“Once she graduates, I’m buying a place in Encinitas.”
“Hang in there. It’s only five more months.”
“A life sentence, more like it. I was trying to talk to Frankie about her future, you know. She hasn’t given it a thought. Doesn’t want to go to college. Doesn’t want to get a job. Thinks she can just sit around on her ass and the money will magically roll in.”
“Cut off her allowance. If she doesn’t have money, she’ll have to figure it out.”
Cruz leveled me with a look. “Just like you did with Rae, you mean?”
I had no defense for that, so I remained silent. I was still my mother’s keeper. Always would be. “I’ll give Frankie a job at The Surf Lodge this summer.”
“You’d put up with that attitude? Somehow, I can’t see that working out.”
“I’m not going to manage it. I’ll leave that up to the staff.”
“Look at you. You’ve got fucking staff now. You planning to get a butler too?”
I snorted as my landline rang. It was my direct line and the caller ID told me it was Simon Woods. I looked over at Cruz who raised his brows and remained seated, not wanting to miss this. I answered the call on speakerphone and cut right through the pleasantries. “Did you need something?”
“How did you get Whitaker to sell you The Surf Lodge?”
“Turns out he’d rather sell it to a punk like me than let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“I own that entire strip of beachfront.”
Except The Surf Lodge. “Your point?”
“My point is that I could buy and sell you ten times over, you little shit. I still hold the power and you’d be smart to remember that. I’ve heard about your plans for it. The last thing this town needs is to attract more beach bums and degenerates. If you think you’ve won this battle, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“I didn’t realize we were at war. Appreciate the heads up. I’ll be sure to stock up on ammunition. Nice chat.” I cut the call and looked over at Cruz.
“Is that why you bought The Surf Lodge? To piss him off?”
“No. But it’s an added bonus.”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are your plans for it?”
“I’m turning it into a surf hostel. I’m refurbishing, not bulldozing which was what Woods wanted to do. He was going to build a boutique hotel.”
“That would turn a higher profit. It’s the savvier business decision,” he said, playing devil’s advocate.
“It’s not all about money. This is a surfing community. It’s one of the best parts about this town and that property is within walking or cycling distance of fourteen breaks. One of which is world-class. This town doesn’t need another overpriced boutique hotel or fancy shop that sells their shit at ten times what it’s worth.”
He held up his hands. “You don’t have to sell it to me. You know how I feel about this snooty town. But you have an enemy now and he won’t make thing
s easy.” He was right about that. Simon Woods had never made anything easy on me, had hated me from day one, and even now that Sienna and I weren’t together he’d still find reasons to hate me. Now, whether I liked it or not, I’d started a turf war. Which was ridiculous. The Surf Lodge was nothing to Simon Woods. A mere drop in the ocean compared to all the property he owned in this town.
We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Three knocks, to be precise. Melanie poked her head in. “There’s a delivery for you. Six boxes. Where do you want them?”
I stood up from my desk. “I’ll take care of it.”
Speaking of mistakes, I might have gone overboard on Starlet’s birthday present. But if her dickhead father was too much of a pompous ass to recognize how talented she was, I felt it was almost my duty to help her out. Yeah, that was me. Mr. Do-Good. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to get into her pants.
Jesus. I really was an asshole.
9
Scarlett
As far as winter beach parties went, this one was awesome. Bonfires blazed up and down the beach, protected from the wind by the bluffs. The red-orange flames danced across the dark sky and heated my skin. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside, the edges all blurred. Our mellow, chilled-out party of a dozen friends had grown bigger as word spread and friends of friends, half of whom I’d never met, turned up with six-packs and good vibes.
Nic and I were lost in the music blasting from portable speakers, our hair flying around us, bodies gyrating to the beat, arms akimbo.
“I love you,” Nic shouted over the music and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
“I love you too.” We launched ourselves into each other’s arms and hugged each other tight, holding on to keep our balance.
“Woo hoo,” I shouted.
We punched the sky and leaped into the air, body slamming into each other.
“Oh shit, that hurt.”
We doubled over and laughed like loons before we recovered and went back to dancing like nobody was watching. We were twenty-one, young and free, buzzed on tequila shots and beer. It didn’t get much better than this.
Ollie’s laughter reached my ears and it put a smile on my face. He was sitting in a circle of friends farther down the beach, his arm slung around a blonde’s shoulders, a beer in his hand. I felt no jealousy, I only wanted him to be happy. Beck, the lead singer, had a girl in his lap and his arm around another one. And Gavin, their bass player, was gesticulating with his hands, his face animated, most likely telling one of his outrageous stories that had the group howling with laughter.
Life was good, Ollie and I were finding our way back to normal, and tonight I didn’t have a care in the world.
Nic’s eyes widened then her lips curved into a mischievous grin. I didn’t need to turn around to confirm who she was looking at. I swear, the air around me shifted and the particles rearranged themselves. I knew it was him, and only a moment later he made his presence known. Arms wrapped around me from behind, and he pulled my body flush against his as if we’d done this song and dance a million times and it was perfectly natural for him to greet me this way. His heat enveloped me, and I melted into him, my hips swaying to the beat of Parra For Cuva’s “Wicked Games.” The perfect song for the way I felt about him. Had always felt about him.
His lips found the sensitive spot on my neck—brushing, not kissing—and my heart galloped, my breath seized in my lungs. “Happy Birthday, Starlet.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder and decided I could happily stay here forever. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Were you hoping I did?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes, realizing I’d just admitted something I probably shouldn’t have, but I made no attempt to take it back.
His hands skimmed down my arms, gently, slowly, his touch igniting every cell of my body. I was surprised I didn’t burst into flames and set the world on fire. He clasped my hands in his much larger, calloused ones, rough against my softer skin and looped my arms around the back of his neck. Our bodies moved in sync, slow and sensuous, his hands gripping the curves of my hips.
The flames from the fire painted my closed lids red as we swayed to the beat and I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was a good dancer. Dancing was like sex, right? You either had rhythm or you didn’t. I just went with it. I didn’t want to break the spell we were under. Didn’t want to think about the million reasons why this was so wrong. Not tonight when I wanted to lose myself in the moment.
“Are you drunk?” he asked, voice low and husky in my ear, raising the small hairs on the back of my neck. God, he was delicious. I wanted to lick every inch of his skin and see if it tasted like it smelled.
“I’m in that happy, hazy place when you’re buzzed, and you know that if you have another drink it’ll tip you over the edge. So I’ll just stay here for a while.”
“It’s a good place to be.”
“I like it here.”
“I like you right here too.”
But his actions belied his words. He spun me around, so I was facing him. He’d done it on purpose, forcing me to reconcile this heady, intoxicating feeling with the reality of who he was and the magnitude of what this could mean if we continued down this road.
His hooded gaze roamed my face and settled on my mouth where it often landed. My lips parted, a breath escaping them, and I had a wild urge to throw myself into his arms and kiss him dizzy. He read it on my face and saved me the trouble of making the first move. Wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, he yanked me toward him, and my body slammed against his hard chest.
I’d always thought of Dylan as long and lean and cut, but this close, his body felt harder, bigger, more muscular. Just more. His hand fisted my hair and he tugged, forcing my chin up and my eyes to his. I bet he was rough in bed. Merciless. My core clenched, and I squeezed my thighs together, the ache between my legs throbbing, almost painful. I was so wet for him and he hadn’t even kissed me yet.
This was dangerous. We were venturing into forbidden territory and even as a voice inside my head screamed no, my body said, Yes, yes, yes.
Oh God, I wanted him.
“Tell me no, Starlet. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave.”
And I knew he would. He would walk away without looking back, and I’d never hear from him again. He was giving me the choice. He wanted me, I knew that. But I wasn’t going to fool myself. This—whatever we were—had nothing to do with romance. Dylan St. Clair was about as emotionally available as a rock cliff. The one I was about to throw myself off, praying there would be a safety net to catch me. There wouldn’t be. I already knew that too.
I should say no, such a simple word, but when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. Nada. Crickets. I licked my lips because they were dry, and God help me I wanted him to kiss me even though the voice in my head warned me this was wrong.
“Last chance,” he warned as his hand glided through my hair and held the back of my head, guiding it to where he wanted it. I had a feeling that he’d never asked any girl for permission before. Decision made, I rose on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck.
Dipping his head, he slanted his mouth over mine, and he patiently traced my lips with his. Softly. Slowly. Like the world wasn’t on fire and there was no sense of urgency.
Desperate for more, I grew impatient and crushed my lips against his. They remained stubbornly sealed. I growled. Yes, I actually growled. Like a wild animal. What was wrong with me? He laughed, his chest rumbling against mine, and kissed the corner of my lips. My jaw. My neck, just below my ear before he returned to my mouth and kissed me so hard, so suddenly, it stole my breath. His tongue parted my lips and I let him in. He tasted like something dark and forbidden. Like every fantasy I’d ever had.
He changed the pace and kissed me slow and dirty. My hands fisted the thick cotton of his hoodie. I had zero chill. Zero self-restraint. Shivers raced up and down my spine and heat pooled
in my belly as his tongue stroked the roof of my mouth. I moaned in pleasure, grinding against his erection, seeking the friction. I was two seconds away from climbing him like a tree and cinching my legs around his waist.
“Careful, Starlet,” he growled. His fingers bit hard into my soft flesh. A warning. “Keep doing that, you’ll be getting more than a kiss.”
“Will you punish me?” My voice sounded breathy. After all, he’d stolen the air from my lungs.
“Mmm hmm.” I felt him smile against my lips before he sunk his teeth into my bottom lip and then he sucked on it to ease the sting. I bet he gave good pain. I wanted it. All of it. All of him. My lips were kiss-bruised, raw and swollen and it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
The sound of slow clapping jolted me back to reality. I was on a beach, surrounded by people, and I was kissing my sister’s ex-boyfriend as if we were alone in the dark. Dylan’s muscles tensed, and he pulled back, his arm around my waist a steel band locking me in place.
I looked over my shoulder.
“So much for not getting involved with him,” Ollie said bitterly.
Shame heated my already flushed cheeks. I had no defense. I couldn’t even say it was just a kiss. Not when it had felt like so much more. Dylan and I had crossed a line, and I’d done nothing to stop it. I turned around to face Ollie.
“Isn’t this the guy who cheated on you?” Dylan asked.
Oh my God. I winced as the hurt flashed across Ollie’s face. Not cool, Dylan. Even worse that I’d been disloyal to Ollie by sharing that information.
“You told him about that?” Ollie shook his head, disappointed in me.
I hung my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Not like it isn’t true.” Nic rallied to my defense, firmly placing her in my camp. Ollie glared at her. She just shrugged and moved to my side, a loyal ally. I’d been stupid to think we could all go back to the way things used to be. The aftermath of my relationship with Ollie had divided our friend group. Gavin and Beck, of course, had chosen Ollie, and Nic had chosen me. Lines had been drawn, and even though we all acted friendly toward each other, it wasn’t the same as it used to be, and it never would be.
