Make Me Unwind (Magnolia Point)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Piper

“I’m not going anywhere.” I stand in the pristine white living room with my arms crossed over my chest. The cabin my family rented at the resort is just outside the city limits of Magnolia Point.

It’s only because of the central air-conditioning that my black leggings and white midriff-bearing T-shirt aren’t drenched in sweat. It’s the beginning of August in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, which means it’s hot and humid.

“Yes, you are.” My brother, Weston, glares at me as he holds my nephew, Dylan, on his hip. Dylan stares with sleepy eyes and a perfect bow-shaped mouth.

Charlotte, Weston’s wife, places a hand on his shoulder as if she’s saying, ‘Let me take over before you fuck everything up.’ “It’ll be good for you to get out and get some sun.”

“I don’t want to get any sun.” Even though it’s summer, my skin is barely above a milky white. I used to live in the sun, playing sports, running around with my friends, swimming in the pool. But that was before the accident.

My mind shuts down at the thought, effectively separating me from the past. Why think about it? It’s not like I can change anything.

“You know it’s good for you.” Her blue eyes bore into mine, reminding me of the ocean water down at the beach. God, I hate her.

“Fine,” I growl under my breath. “But I intended to watch the kids while you two were here so you could have some time alone.” I shrug nonchalantly, playing my last card. “I know you barely get any time alone without the kids, and you just finished with training camp–”

“Don’t press your luck.”

“Fine.” The word is more defined this time as I punch it out between clenched teeth and march across the room. It was a long shot, anyway.

I’ve progressed both physically and mentally since the accident when I was fourteen, but they still watch me like a hawk. They should be happy that I no longer spend all my time wearing black and staring at the walls.

Besides, there isn’t anything wrong with preferring isolation over hanging out with a bunch of partying people. Right? At least, there isn’t in my opinion. Outside of spending time with my best friend, Lexie, who’s back in Kansas City, I’m basically a hermit.

Too bad she isn’t here. I could have used the moral support or the built-in distraction she’d provide.

“You need to be at the paddleboarding station in ten minutes,” my brother calls out from behind me.

I slap my hands on my hips as I spin to face him. My niece, Rowan, runs through the living room, dragging a stroller behind her. The stroller is on two wheels with a baby doll hanging over the side by its neck.

“What do you mean, I need to be at the paddleboarding station in ten minutes?”

“Morning, Auntie Pip.” She smiles with her perfect pearl white teeth and the baby doll plops onto the floor.

“Good morning, love.” My heart aches over her precious face. Both my niece and nephew have my heart.

“Oops.” She giggles, grasps the lower leg of the baby doll, and shoves it back into the stroller. “Sit.” She glares at the plastic toy. “Now, listen.”

No, my brother needs to listen. I shift my attention from Rowan to glare at Weston. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going paddleboarding.”

“You’re learning to paddleboard this morning. You should probably change into your swimsuit.”

I only have one swimsuit, but I have no intention of putting it on and going out in public. Apparently, Lexie stuffed it in my luggage when I wasn’t looking–a skimpy black two-piece bikini. My hands ball into fists on my hips. “Seriously? You got me lessons to do something I have no interest in learning?”

“Yes, we got you paddleboarding lessons. It’ll be fun.” My mom walks out of her adjoining bedroom with her floppy white sunhat atop her head. “I’m going to town to check out the festival setup. I want to make sure I have everything I need for tomorrow.”

After I recovered from my injury and Weston and Charlotte were married, my mother started making handmade pottery. She’s gotten good at it and specializes in vases and dinnerware.

“I’ll go with you. Let me grab my purse.” I take a step toward my bedroom when Charlotte braces her arm out. “Do something fun for once. Stretch yourself. You know that’s what I tell my clients.”

Paddleboarding? Seriously? I spin on my heel, snatch the door open, and stomp outside. A light breeze blows the tendrils of hair that have slipped from my braid. Make your sister-in-law your idol. Dream of following in her footsteps and becoming a sports psychologist.

There’s still time to change my major.

I met Charlotte when she was teaching my brother ballet after an injury to help him strengthen his ankle. She knew ballet could aid with better core strength and balance, as she’d used it to come back from a devastating basketball injury.

They fell in love, and I idolized her for her determination and tenacity.

Until now.

As I stomp along the pathway toward the water, I ignore the bright blue sky, the white puffy clouds, and the seagulls swooping down to the water and shooting back up into the air.

My feet crunch on the gravel. Okay. I don’t ignore everything. The weather is gorgeous. The resort, with its plantation-style main building and an assortment of quaint cabins, is beautiful, and the man standing next to a paddleboard wearing a black skinsuit peeled off to the waist with the arms haphazardly tied around his waist is breathtaking.

Short blondish brown hair cut close to the scalp, broad chest, and sculpted muscles. A shade darker of skin than my own. And….

He glances at the black watch strapped around his wrist, and his brows furrow, leaving deep lines to mar his perfection. His mouth tightens as he huffs and drops his arm to his side. Maybe not so sexy now.

He glares and straightens. His green eyes are unreadable as they graze over me. “You, Piper?”

“Yes.” I tip my chin out. As much as I hate busybodies who mess in your personal business, I can’t stand assholes who think they’re better than you are even more.

“You’re late.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Isn’t the guest always right?”

“Not on my watch,” he grumbles, shaking his head as if the concept annoys him. “Your appointment was supposed to start ten minutes ago. I’ll have to cut off ten minutes from your lesson.”

“Fine.” Like I wanted to learn paddleboarding in the first place.

His eyes narrow marginally. Not that they weren’t already crinkled in disapproval. “What do you know about paddleboarding?”

“Nothing.”

His jaw flexes with irritation. “Why would you sign up for something you know nothing about?”

“Why would you work at a job that indicates tutoring for novices if you don’t like to help people?” I have no idea what the website boasts. Still, it only makes sense that the resort would cater to clients without knowledge of their different activities as another moneymaking source.

“I don’t.” Dark shadows flare in his eyes and then they’re gone.

With the change, his body shifts to a relaxed stance that implies he has all day and doesn’t care that he has to put up with me for the next 49 minutes and 35 seconds.

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t work here.” One of his shoulders shifts upward in a shrug. “Or at least, I don’t typically work at the resort. My brother took over the family business when our parents retired. He lost an employee, so he asked me to fill in.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Lost an employee?” My heart skips a beat. Please don’t say you lost him in the ocean, and no one has seen him since. Weston can kiss my ass. If that’s the case, I’m not about to get in the water. My eyes dart from the right to the left. Are there sharks here?

A rough-sounding chuckle comes from his lips, as if he’s reading my thoughts. It wasn’t a humorous sound, more like a choked-out cough. “He quit to return to college over in Savannah. The busy season is almost over, so there’s no reason to hire someone else when I’m not doing anything.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why a sexy, masculine man with washboard abs is doing nothing, but I snap my mouth shut.

“Are you ready?” He tips his head toward the teal and orange paddleboard. The one at his feet is black, matching his grumpy attitude.

“No.”

One corner of his mouth twitches and then immediately straightens, causing me to question what I saw. Did I want him to think I was funny and conjured a smile, or did he really do it? His face is blank, with no emotion.

“My brother and sister-in-law signed me up for this.” I wave my hand toward the paddleboard. “I’d rather be in our cabin.”

His eyes dart over me. “Do you have any thigh and core strength?”

My shoulders jerk backwards at his doubting expression. “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t want you falling off and getting lost like poor Mateo.”

I huff and march to the board. “What do I do?”

For several minutes, he instructed me on how to climb onto the board, shift to a standing position, and balance my weight. Then, he showed me how to put on the safety cuff and how to hold the paddle properly.

“What do I do if a wave comes at me?”

“If a wave is coming at you, you turn sideways in a typical surfing position.”

“I’ve never gone surfing before.” The breeze slaps against my face. Damp salt with a hint of tang. I inhaled the scent, taking it deep into my lungs. “Can you describe the surfing position?”

I hate admitting another thing I don’t know how to do, but I’d rather look like a fool in front of him than faceplant into the water.

“You put one foot in front of the other, like this.” As he describes what to do, he mimics the positions and waits until I mirror his movements before moving to his next instruction. I listen with more interest than I intend. The man is thorough with his instructions and the ease of his movements is fascinating.

Broad shoulders. Strong arms. Long fingers. Neatly groomed fingernails. But it’s the veins on the backs of his hands, leading up to his forearms, that keep my brain spinning. Those hands and arms are deadly weapons at least to the female population. He should be a model.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” My focus snaps back as heat floods my cheeks. Dear lord, please let the midday sun be so bright that he can’t tell I look like a cherry red tomato from gawking at him like he’s a piece of strawberry shortcake on a Sunday afternoon.

“Strip down to your suit, and let’s try this.” He unties the arms around his waist and shoves his hand into the wetsuit.

“No!” My voice is sharp to my ears as a man and his son stop several yards down the beach from us. The boy, who’s no more than eight years old, holds a seashell.

“No, you don’t want to try?” He can’t hide his irritation at this point. He’s not the kind of guy who looks like he enjoys wasting time.

“No….” I clear my throat. “I mean, I don’t want to do this, but I will to make my brother happy. However, I’ll wear what I have on, thank you.” I stride past him, not caring if he thinks I’m crazy to go out there in leggings and a T-shirt and grasp the paddleboard as he instructed.

But even his sexy as sin high cheekbones and full mouth aren’t going to convince me to drop my pants and show him my scars.