The Bachelor Beach
The Love Connection Series - Villa One
Shari J. Ryan
Contents
THANK YOU
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
The Bachelor Beach
BONUS BOOK
About the Author
ALSO BY SHARI J. RYAN
If you enjoy Romantic Comedy …
Copyright © 2019 by Shari J. Ryan
ISBN: 9781079261134
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edited by: Samantha Schafer, Edit For Content
THANK YOU
Thank you for choosing to read
The Bachelor Beach.
I hope you enjoy the book!
Make sure to claim your book bonus gift once you’re done reading.
Chapter 1
It’s ten in the morning, and I’ve been staring at the classifieds online for the last three hours. I’ve applied to every hospitality job on at least five different websites, and I haven’t gotten one call. I even hired a resume specialist to make sure everything on my resume was up to par. My two-hundred dollars offered me a few grammatical changes to my intern experiences, and I have been told that I have a perfect resume and should have no problem finding a job.
Well, that’s fun because for the last two summers, I’ve been working pro-bono, so I can add experience to my sad resume. I have three weeks to find something, and that stupid clock hanging on the wall is the loudest reminder in the world. Well, it was until yesterday. I ripped the batteries out after my last class. The thing was taunting me.
“Oh, my God. Oh. My. God. Ash! I got the job,” Gracie shrieks after tossing her phone onto the black futon that we call a sofa. “I can’t believe it—I didn’t think I’d find anything with how dried up the market is right now, but New York City, the Marriott, yeah baby, here I come.” When good news arrives, it’s typically the time when Gracie breaks out into song and dance—spoke too soon. “Start spreading the news … I’m leaving in three weeks … I’m going to be a part of it … New York, New York.”
I want to tell my best friend to shut up, but instead, I smile my fakest smile. I’ve been a firm believer in karma—be happy for others and good things will happen, yadda-yadda, so I do what any good friend would do and shriek back. “Holy crap, Gracie! This news is freaking enormous. We must celebrate tonight.” We can celebrate the fact that you have a promising future, and I’m going to be a bum with a degree.
Gracie pouts her lips and ambles over to me with outstretched arms. “Ash, you’re going to hear something. I know it. I got this feeling inside my bones – It goes electric, wavy when I turn it on—”
“Okay, okay, let’s figure out where we’re going tonight, so I can make reservations,” I interrupt her solo of Justin Timberlake’s song.
I know Gracie is trying to encourage me, or stop me from yelling blasphemy at my soon-to-be degree in hospitality management, but dammit, I’m jealous.
No one ever told me how hard I would fall on my butt after finishing college, and I haven’t even graduated yet. Whatever the case … my butt already hurts. There are all these expectations like securing a job and finding an affordable apartment to make for a seamless move. Well, it’s obvious none of that is in the cards for me.
What’s worse is, here I am, trying to figure out how to tell good ole’ Mom and Dad that since it’s May 1st and I still haven’t received one job offer, I will have to move “home” in three weeks to their one-bedroom condo in a retirement community.
When I decided to advance my education toward a bachelor’s degree, Mom and Dad must have felt confident I wouldn’t want or need to move home after graduating. I thought most college graduates moved home with their parents for a while after. How else am I supposed to find my way in the big, bad world? Anyway, they sold the house I grew up in and downsized to a cute, teeny-tiny condo in a community of people that are their age. I kind of wonder if the space constraints were a factor in their decision when buying the place. It’s clear I don’t fit the lifestyle they have taken on. I don’t think I’m even allowed on the property without an AARP card. The memo is loud and clear.
In any case, I’ve been putting this conversation off for the last few weeks, hoping something magical might happen, but there is no magic happening here.
“Let’s go to The Cabana tonight,” Gracie says, throwing a pencil at my head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just thinking about a message I have to send to my parents.”
“Give it a few more days. You still have time,” Gracie says. “Plus, tonight, it’s all about The Cabana—the Copacabana …” Another song is coming. “Because … my name is Lola, and I am a showgirl. I might even wear yellow feathers in my hair.”
“Gracie, I just need a minute and then I’ll make reservations,” I tell her, still trying my best to smile.
I scuffle my feet against the matted carpet and close myself in my bedroom, plopping down stomach first onto my unmade pink and black checkerboard clad bed.
I’ve had a text message drafted for the last few days, and I need to hit send. I know Mom and Dad will follow up with a phone call, but at least they can digest the news for a moment before they find the words to lecture me on becoming a responsible adult. I’m sure they’ll also add in the fact that I didn’t turn out just like my brother, Bradley—our family’s golden-child, who had a high-level job offer in not one, but four Fortune 500 companies by March of his final year of grad school.
My finger is hovering over the send button when a text comes through.
Speak of the devil.
There’s an image accompanying the text, so I open the message, finding a massive diamond ring on a slim, well-manicured, tan finger. What is going on?
* * *
Brad-Bro: Guess what, sis? Katarina said, yes!
* * *
I didn’t know how to spell her name correctly. I don’t think I even know her last name. I should know this stuff if my brother is already engaged to her. An engagement, though? It’s too fast. I want to respond to him and ask what she said yes to since I didn’t know he was proposing to some woman I’ve never met. I assume Mom or Dad would have mentioned this plan to me at some point, had they known. Our family doesn’t do well at keeping secrets from one another.
On the other hand, I shouldn’t be surprised by the news.
Bradley has been on a fast-track plan since he was twelve and became president of the middle school’s investment club. He made the statement that he would be married with children by thirty, so he can get the child-bearing years
over with before turning thirty-five. That way, Bradley will be able to focus on his career through retirement. I might have laughed under my breath when he first announced his ridiculous plan. I mean, what twelve-year-old plans their life out like that?
Now that he’s getting married, I guess his plan is almost complete. Meanwhile, I haven’t even moved on from school. Bradley is only four years older, but he has a place of his own, met a great woman (I think), and now he’s off to la-la-land.
Well, good for him.
Jackass.
I do my best to force yet another fake smile, so my sarcasm doesn't come through the words of my text.
“You look like you just swallowed a bottle of toilet cleaner. You okay?” Gracie asks, poking her head into my room. “I’m worried about you.”
I try to shake away my disgust, but I don’t think it’s possible. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I’m just taking in more good news today. According to the text message I just received, my brother just got engaged. So, more yay!” I say, oozing fake excitement.
Gracie walks into my room and drops down onto the bed next to me. “Your moment is coming soon, Ash. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. In fact, I’m standing here until you make me move ... because … I’m hanging by a moment here with you,” she begins to sing a rendition of Lifehouse.
I do my best to block out the song as I continue typing a response to Bradley. I know how to make my texts sound friendly, even when I want to flip him off.
* * *
Me: Aww, I had no idea you were going to pop the question. I’m so happy for you two!
* * *
I don’t know when he met Katarina, but I think it was at some point this past year after Bradley moved from Connecticut down to Tybee Island in Georgia so he could help manage a new housing development. On top of that, I’ve hardly seen any pictures since Bradley doesn’t consider himself part of the millennial social media age group. He calls himself a digital ghost.
* * *
Brad-Bro: Me too! So, I have something to ask you.
* * *
I wonder what part of the wedding he’ll ask me to take part in; I’m too old to be the flower girl, and I don’t know the bride. I would be a great bathroom attendant, though.
* * *
Me: Okay ...
* * *
Brad-Bro: I got a job offer from Katarina’s father. It was an all-inclusive thing. Anyway, we are moving to Virginia for this job, which is great, but I have a lease on the house I’m tied into through the end of the year. I know you’re graduating and probably don’t have any plans ... so.
* * *
Holy crap. Despite the fact that Bradley assumes I’ve already screwed up, he’s offering me free rent, I think. My brother. My big brother. My hero. I love him. He’s always been the person I look up to in every way—even if he is a giant kiss-ass nerd.
* * *
Me: YES!
* * *
Brad-Bro: You don’t even know what I was going to say.
* * *
Me: You want me to move in, so your paid lease doesn’t go to waste, right?
* * *
Brad-Bro: Well, yes, but Katarina’s two sisters will be sharing the house with you too. So, if you’re okay with this, then yes, I’m asking you to move into my house.
* * *
I don’t have to have a job set up in the next week, and I don’t have to pay for an apartment. There isn’t much to consider. This is like an opportunity of a lifetime.
* * *
Me: I think I’ll be just fine. This new move—living rent-free—it will be amazing. You’re amazing!
* * *
Brad-Bro: I’ve paid for utilities through the end of July. You’ll have to all split those up after that.
* * *
Me: I have savings. It’s not a problem.
* * *
Brad-Bro: You need to get a job, Ash.
* * *
Me: Obviously.
* * *
However, there’s no sense in rushing into a job I might not like. Now, I have the golden opportunity to start on the right foot, and Georgia is way better than Connecticut. I won’t have to freeze between November and April anymore. It’ll be like a permanent vacation.
* * *
Brad-Bro: Mom and Dad already know, and they’re relieved you won’t be moving into their one-bedroom condo.
* * *
Which means they all talk about me being a loser. How nice.
* * *
Me: Thank you again. You’re a lifesaver.
* * *
Brad-Bro: Ash, there’s one thing you should know about the development you’ll be living within. Everything will be in the documents I send over to you, but I should explain ...
* * *
I know he owns part of the development and was leasing one of the units temporarily. I can’t imagine it’s anything less than amazing, but I would never expect anything with what Bradley is graciously offering.
* * *
Me: Honestly, anything is fine. I don’t care if it’s in an alley or underground. It’s somewhere to live.
* * *
Brad-Bro: Well, no, that’s not it.
* * *
Me: What is it then?
Chapter 2
A month later
The flight was only three hours, but I feel like it was ten, as I pull my hot pink wheeled carry-on case through the jet-way toward the gate’s exit. Bradley said he would be meeting me at baggage claim with Katarina, and her two sisters, so we can all go over to the house together. I’m not sure what time they flew in, but hopefully, no one has been waiting long. I’m anxious to meet Katarina, my future sister-in-law. That still sounds weird.
The airport doesn’t seem too large as I already see signs for the baggage claim area. I retrieve my phone from my pants’ back pocket and thumb in a quick text to Bradley, letting him know I’ve arrived.
By the time my text goes through, I’m on the escalator that will dump me into the open spaces between the baggage carousel. I glance around in search of a shiny, bald head, but none of the lights seem to be reflecting enough. Bradley has been stark bald since his freshman year of college. He had a receding hairline by the age of seventeen and couldn’t handle the sight of his thinning hair, so he shaved it all off and has been shaving it ever since.
I make my way over to carousel B, where my luggage will arrive. I only brought two large suitcases with me and shipped the rest. The thought of traveling with more than a couple of bags stressed me out. It’s okay though; my other belongings should arrive within the next two days.
With my phone still gripped within my hand, I glance down, noticing my text to Bradley never went through. The little green bar at the top of my display shows it’s still sending. Great. I don’t have any service. I’ll need to connect to the airport’s Wi-Fi.
“There she is,” I hear Bradley’s familiar voice. I turn in a circle, searching for my brother, but I don’t recognize him. My brother ... because he has a full head of hair now. That’s um, weird.
“Oh, my gosh, I didn’t see you,” I tell him, ignoring the hair and throwing my arms around his neck. Bradley is at least ten inches taller than I am, but he’s lucky to have those ten inches because Mom is barely five-two and Dad rounds up to five-seven. The tall height gene does not run in our family. I’m the shortest at five-one. Wrapped in Bradley’s bear hug, I inhale an unfamiliar scent. He never liked to wear cologne because certain fragrances make his throat swell. Yet, I'm worried about my throat with as strong a scent as whatever he’s wearing.
“You’re still just as little as I left you,” he teases, scruffing up my hair with a claw-like grip.
“You’re not as bald as I left you,” I commented.
“You like it? Kat convinced me to go for a hair transplant. I didn’t think it was going to work, but it did,” he says, running his fingers through the silky amber waves. I had almost forgotten we had the same color hair.
<
br /> “It’s different. I’ll have to get used to it,” I tell Bradley, reaching up to touch it, acting as though it might jump out and bite me.
“It’s real, I swear.”
It is silky and smooth. It’s nice. The hair does feel real. “That’s great. I’m glad you have hair again.”
“Are you ready to meet your future sister-in-law?”
“Bradley,” I say, sounding like I have a loaded statement to follow. “How long have you and Katarina been together? It’s weird that I haven’t met her yet and you’re already engaged. Your surprise text message/engagement announcement kind of stung a little. We’re close, you know?” At least, we were close. I guess I’ve been busy with school this past year, and he’s been busy becoming a full-fledged adult or something along those lines.
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