LIMITED EDITION BOXED SET: No Pants Required | Bedwrecker | Hollywood Prince

by Karr, Kim

  Almost afraid to ask, I do so only to get it out of the way. “Do I want to know what the other thing is?”

  Maggie checks the time on her phone and stands up. “We’re going to the Underground tomorrow night. It’s a dance club, so while you’re out shopping maybe you should pick something up to wear.”

  Taking a deep breath, I blow it out. “Maggie, I don’t want to go out with Andre. I already told you that. He’s a nice guy; I’m just not into him.”

  All five feet, ten inches of her looms over me in her red shorts and white tank top. “Makayla, I think I got that when you left him sitting at my table to go fuck Cam. Derek, you, and I will be meeting up with a bunch of people from the patrol.”

  “The patrol?” I question, knowing that means the people she works with.

  “We go all the time and you don’t have to worry, Cam never comes with us. Dance clubs aren’t his thing.”

  “I guess karaoke is,” I laugh.

  She takes a step back. “Yeah, about that: next time you two talk, you should ask him why he ended up there.”

  I stand up and make sure the Adam & Eve bag is buried deep in my purse. “If you know, why don’t you tell me?”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. Besides, I have to run. See you home later.”

  And just like that, the California girl is gone.

  And the New Yorker is left to spread her wings.

  As I head toward the car, I eye the bag in my purse. Maybe I should say I’m left to get myself off.

  Just my vibrator and me.

  14

  Pepperoni, Anyone?

  Cam

  Behind my polarized frames I watch every splash, every screech, every ripple. From high in my tower I spend my day deciding if that person over there has been under too long, if that one across the way is doing the back float or is really in trouble, or if the one way out there is actually struggling or just learning to swim.

  The decisions I make are crucial to saving people’s lives, yet every day that has passed this week, this job has been feeling more and more just like that—a job.

  That yearning I felt for a career before everything happened is starting to come back a little more every day. And for the first time, I find my anger toward my brother lessening. Not saying that’s a good thing, though, because I’m not sure where that leaves us.

  When I finally get home from a long day, I go straight to my room, hop in the shower, change, and walk out into the kitchen to grab some food.

  Shocked before I even make it to the refrigerator, I almost barrel over in laughter when I see Brooklyn at the sink. His notebook is tossed on the counter and instead of writing like he usually is, he’s washing dishes, by hand. “Hey, man, dishwasher broken?”

  Blowing a handful of suds out of his face, he turns toward me. “No, I’m doing this for my health. What do you think?”

  Laughter continues to roll out of me. “I think you’re going to make someone a terrific wife.”

  Setting the last of the dishes on the counter, he pulls the drain, and then flips me the bird. “I’m taking Sasha Gomez out tonight and if things go right, she’ll be coming back here. Just thought I’d tidy up.”

  I lean against the counter. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Sasha is an up-and-coming pop singer who got her start on MTV. Brooklyn and she have been friends for years. They’ve been fuck buddies for that long, too.

  Brooklyn smiles. “Anytime, man. By the way, I saw Makayla over at the surf shop today when I stopped in to get some wax for my board. Her stuff is crazy cool. She gave me a couple of pieces to give to Sasha. Nice chick. You shouldn’t let her slip away.”

  If his older brother were here, he’d sock Brooklyn right in the arm for saying anything like that. Keen Masters is heartless, though, and has no soft side whatsoever. Big balls, I always tell him. He prefers the term steel dick. Whatever.

  Pushing up from the counter, I skip the food idea and open the door. “She was never mine to let slip away, bro. Have a great night.”

  “Moody fucker,” Brooklyn calls after me.

  I, in turn, throw him the finger.

  Just as I plop myself down on the lounge chair, my phone rings. I take a quick glance at the screen.

  It’s my mother.

  She’s called three times this week, and I have yet to return her call. Last week in New York was tough, and I just don’t want to talk about it. Still, I should pick up this time.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  The crackle of static and silence greets me. Then, “Camden?”

  I stare out at the Pacific and try to absorb some of its calm. “Hey, Mom, sorry I haven’t called you yet. I worked a crap-ton of hours this week.”

  “I know why you haven’t called me, and it has nothing to do with work. I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you doing?”

  Running a hand through my hair, I want to pull it. “After that family fiasco last Thursday, I honestly don’t know.”

  “Cam, honey, I think it’s time you let your anger go. It’s not good for you to carry all that resentment around.”

  My eyes shut and I squeeze them closed tightly. “I try every day, Mom. I really do.”

  She sighs. “Tell me what’s new there.”

  “I’m still a lifeguard, if that’s what you are asking.”

  The hiss of static makes me think we’ve lost connection, but then she’s back on the line. “You know I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy.”

  “That’s just it, I’m not happy. There’s hundreds of businesses here that I look at and think, I can fix them, make them better.”

  “Then do it, Cam.”

  “You know I can’t. That takes capital, and I don’t have any.”

  “Yes, you do. Stop being stubborn. Your grandparents left you that money. The trust fund is yours to do with what you want. It has nothing to do with your father.”

  “I’m not ready to go down that road.”

  “Then you’re not ready. It’s okay.”

  I look over toward the house next door. “I met a girl on the plane ride to California who turned out to be Maggie’s best friend. She moved here from New York.”

  “Really? Small world. What’s she like?”

  “She’s really cool. She worked for Kate von Frantzenberg in the city and moved out here to design her own jewelry.”

  “She sounds fascinating.”

  Fascinating. That’s a good word to describe her. Especially since I still feel amazing after being inside her. Okay, I need to can the sex thoughts when I’m talking to my mother. I try to blink them away and then quickly change the subject. “Yeah, anyway, other than that, nothing new.”

  “Well, I have some news.”

  “Oh yeah, what?”

  “Josh and I are getting married the weekend after Labor Day. I know it’s quick, but we both want this. I’d like you to come back for the ceremony. It will be small. Just his family and mine. I hope Amelia will come.”

  Drawing in a breath, I let it out. “I’m happy for you, Mom.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You deserve to be happy.”

  “And so do you, Camden,” she says.

  Yeah, the problem is it’s been so long, I don’t know what that means anymore. Then I think of Makayla and the fun we had. She made me happy.

  The rest of the conversation is spent talking about the wedding plans and Josh. Josh is a cool guy and I’m glad she found someone who makes her happy. She deserves it.

  Once I get off the phone with my mother, I stare out at the ocean for the longest time before deciding to see what Makayla is up to tonight.

  The sun is about an hour away from setting by the time I peek over Maggie’s fence. No one is outside, but I know they’re home. I spotted Maggie’s car in the driveway. Well, spotted is a loose term, since I looked.

  That dick move I made with Makayla has been eating at me all week. After going at her guns blazing and then ceasing fire faste
r than a gun draw at the O.K. Corral, I probably owe her an explanation. I’ll just lay it all out there, tell her I know she’s a nice girl and didn’t deserve that. That I’m in a bad place right now. In this case, the whole “it’s me, not you” thing is the complete truth.

  There’s one bit of happy already bleeding through the bleakness that is my life—it’s the weekend and for the first time in months, I’m off until Monday morning. Therefore, talking to Makayla should be easy. Tons of time. I can ask her out to eat. Take her to a movie. Something, anything, to atone for my shitty treatment of her.

  If I’m being honest, I thought we might run into each other sometime during the week, either outside or in one of our driveways, or perhaps on the beach, but we never did. I even tried to get some info from Maggie, but her lips were sealed tight.

  Looks like going next door is the best way to talk to Makayla, and I am going equipped with things that should make her smile—her book and iPod. She left them both on the plane and even though I tried to catch her to give them to her, I couldn’t. She really is fast.

  Beer in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, my backpack with her things on my shoulder, I take the pathway around to the patio and knock on the kitchen door.

  It swings open and Maggie stands there, still dressed in her lifeguarding clothes. “Just get home?” I ask.

  She steps aside to let me in. “About an hour ago, but I decided to crash and watch some television before motivating. I have to be at work early in the morning, and I’m already exhausted.”

  Peering through the galley kitchen into the family room, I see no sign of Makayla. “What are you watching?”

  She grabs a beer from the six-pack and heads toward the couch. “Just turned on The Walking Dead. Come watch with me.”

  Maggie and I have watched every episode together—twice. Another round couldn’t hurt.

  Putting the wine in the refrigerator and dropping my backpack on the counter, I grab a beer for myself and follow her. “Sure, why not.”

  Flopping on the couch, she looks over at me. “Feel like ordering a pizza? I’m starving.”

  Dinner. That is perfect. That should get Makayla out here. “Yeah, sure,” I tell her and make the call.

  About thirty minutes later, the pizza arrives, half veggie, no cheese for Maggie, the other half pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese for me. “Derek not around tonight?” I ask, grabbing a piece from the box and taking a bite.

  Maggie puts a slice on her plate. “He has to close the shop. He’s coming over later.”

  Still she says nothing about Makayla, nor does she ask her if she wants to come eat with us. Just as I’m about to suggest she call her down, the kitchen door swings open.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Straight down my center of vision stands Makayla in a bright green bikini, looking hotter than fuck. Looking more sunburned than tan, she plops a bag of shells on the floor and looks right at me, catching me licking my lips.

  “Hey,” I call out, trying to keep my voice normal but feeling like my rising cock took all the high notes and left me with nothing but a squeak. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m not fifteen.

  “Hi.” She smiles, and her nipples instantly pop through the fabric of her top.

  There goes my cock, even higher. I should have gone with denim instead of gym shorts.

  “Hey there, Alexander.” Maggie sets her plate down and wipes her hands. Then with a raised brow and a flirty tone, she asks, “How was your walk?” There’s some kind of hidden code in the way she speaks the words. What, I have no idea.

  “Great, really great,” Makayla answers and stops to wash her hands at the sink.

  With her standing like that, I get the full profile. It’s enough to suck the air from my lungs and make me shift in my seat. That body. She’s tall, not Maggie tall, but tall. And fit. Really fit. And that hair. Her light brown hair is long and wavy. Carefree. She’s not plumped, or primped, or primed like most of the girls I know in New York. Nothing fake about her. Everything about her is just so natural. Flawless is the word, I think.

  Once she’s wiped her hands on the towel, she grabs a glass and gets some water from the dispenser. Drinking it, she walks toward Maggie and me and stops to lean against the entranceway into the family room. “What are you two doing?”

  This close, all I can see is that smooth skin I had my hands all over a mere week ago. With my eyes glued to her, I’m the first to speak. “We’re just catching some old episodes of The Walking Dead and eating pizza. There’s wine in the fridge. Want to join us?”

  Maggie is quietly volleying her gaze between Makayla and me with keen attention.

  The room is set up with the couch facing the television and a chair on either side of it. Passing by me, Makayla casually sits in the chair opposite me, which happens to be at the greatest distance from me as well. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m meeting Eric Sullivan for dinner, and besides, that is not my kind of television.”

  That mixture of red and green haze blurs my vision. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before last week. I’d better think about seeing an eye doctor.

  Clapping her hands together, Maggie practically jumps out of her seat. She’s this excited that Makayla has a date? I really need to get her on my side here. Wait, I don’t have a side. “He called you back?” she asks.

  Makayla looking equally excited makes my body go cold. “Yes, can you believe it?”

  Relief washes through me as I recall who he is. “Eric Sullivan, the owner of Gemstone Gallery in the Village?” I ask. By the way, he’s older, married, with grandkids I think. Phew, nothing to worry about.

  “Yes, that’s him, and he’s looking for someone to manage the store full time. He thinks I might be just the right fit,” Makayla answers, finishing the last of her water.

  Maggie picks her plate up and sits Indian style on the brown leather couch. “Managing? I thought you were trying to sell him your designs.”

  Makayla nods and sets her glass down. “I was, but he’s not interested in that.”

  There’s a concerned look in Maggie’s eyes, as there should be. “You want to work for yourself, be hands-on, remember? Managing someone else’s business isn’t going to help you meet your goal.”

  Before adding my two cents, I wait for Makayla to respond. No sense putting the cart before the horse if I don’t need to.

  Leaning forward, Makayla pinches a piece of pepperoni that has fallen to the side of the pie. “No, it won’t, but Eric isn’t looking for a designer right now; he creates all the pieces he sells himself. He does, however, have a job that will help me learn how to get what I want someday.”

  After a few tiny bites of her vegetables, Maggie makes a face at Makayla. “Not to sound like Debbie Downer here, but what’s the rush to get a job? You’re already selling pieces at the surf shop, so why not wait and see how that goes? Besides, I thought you were going to take the summer off and kick back.”

  I assume by Maggie’s comment that she’s not charging Makayla anything to live here.

  When Makayla eats the piece of pepperoni in her hand, I have this urge to lick the grease from her fingers. Shit, I have to shift around in my seat again. She swallows and looks at Maggie. “I don’t know, I just feel like this is an opportunity I shouldn’t turn down. You never know where it could lead.”

  “Not so sure about that,” I finally pipe up. “If you’re looking to learn the ins and outs of the gemstone market down here, Eric isn’t your guy.”

  “How do you know that?” Makayla asks.

  “He’s third generation and looking to get out. I know he’s talked to a few potential buyers since I moved here. He’s a nice guy, but if he’s looking to hire a full-time manager, that tells me he won’t be around much. He has a place in the Bahamas and already spends a lot of time down there.”

  A piece of broccoli falls to Maggie’s plate and she picks it up and eats it. That’s just nasty. “Cam knows everything about business in town. He’s l
ike the walking, talking Chamber of Commerce,” she tells Makayla.

  Walking, talking sex God has a better ring.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Cam. It’s good information to have when I talk to him tonight.” Makayla smiles and that smile does something to me.

  God, I want this girl.

  “Anytime.” I grin and think I should have said something along those lines last week when I kicked her out of my bed instead of the “see you around” vibe I gave her.

  “He knows a lot about managing a business, too, Makayla,” Maggie offers up. I can’t figure her out.

  Makayla watches Maggie plucking the veggies off her pizza one by the one with the same look I’m giving her. “That’s great,” she says to me. “I might have some questions for you as soon as I figure out if going out on my own is the career path for me.”

  I raise a brow. “I could be like your teacher.”

  “Teacher?” Maggie laughs, choking on a pepper.

  “Yes, teacher. I rather like the sound of that.”

  Instantly, Makayla’s cheeks turn pink.

  Maggie rolls her eyes and stands up. “Blah, blah, blah. Enough of this boring conversation. You two are way too grown up for me.” She looks at me and raises the hand with her empty. “Another?”

  I relax in my chair, relieved this situation isn’t uncomfortable and feeling like Makayla and I might be able to move forward. Maybe with the whole no-strings-attached kind of thing. “Sure, I’ll take another.”

  Alone in the room together, I’m about to ask Makayla if she wants to go out to eat tomorrow night when she stands up. “I need to take a shower and get ready, but it was good to see you, Cam.”

  And just like that she’s gone. Blowing me off like, well, like the asshole I was, I guess.

  Something inside me doesn’t feel right, but at the same time I know it’s my own fucking doing.

  Pizza finished, beer gone, and the Walking Dead episode just ending, I’m slouched in the oversized chair when I hear the creak of the stairs from the small hallway behind the couch.