Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
BECK
The next evening, I flipped the sign hanging in the front window of the diner to Closed and locked the door.
My sister, Addison, sat at the counter, laptop open in front of her, with her tablet set up, all while she typed rapidly on her phone.
I could honestly say I had no idea what she did for the resort—her title of social media manager and resort liaison meant fuck all to me—only that she was always busy and never without technology at her fingertips as she attempted to right the sinking ship that was this resort.
Against all odds, she’d partially succeeded, too.
But I was old enough to remember exactly how bad it could get.
Old enough, too, to know those peaks never lasted.
“I’m leaving, so that means lights off.” I strode past her and grabbed my toolbox from behind the counter.
Without looking up, she waved a hand in the air. “Leave them. I’ll take care of it. Where’re you headed?”
“Swinging by Everly’s.”
She snapped her head up, her eyes glittering with interest. “Oh, really.”
Jesus Christ. She acted like Everly and I were having a secret affair instead of one friend doing something for the other. I refused to give Addison a reaction since goading me about Everly was one of her favorite things to do.
“Her garbage disposal isn’t working, and her dishwasher won’t close. She was trying to hire Ford to do it for her, so I told her I’d handle it. She doesn’t need to waste her money when I’m perfectly capable.”
“Perfectly capable or positively dying to take care of it for her?”
I grunted but otherwise didn’t respond. So what if I enjoyed making sure she had what she needed? That was what friends did.
“I’m just saying…” Addison turned her attention back to one of her three screens. “You’re not fooling anybody but yourself, buddy.”
This time, I couldn’t keep the eye roll to myself as I strolled out the back door without another word.
It was late enough that darkness had fallen, the stars twinkling in the sky as the ocean lapped at the shore a hundred yards away.
Some days, it sucked living above the diner—and this close to my siblings—but having the Atlantic Ocean as my backyard never did.
On my way to my truck, I thumbed out a text to Everly to see if she was home. It didn’t matter if she was or not. I could let myself in with my key, fix what needed fixing, and be gone before she even knew I was there.
Beck:
You home?
The dots didn’t immediately pop up, so I placed my toolbox in the truck bed and climbed into the cab. I’d just turned my key in the ignition when my phone buzzed with a text.
Everly:
Not exactly. I’m at the clinic. Mrs. Farmington’s dog decided he was very hungry for socks today. Gonna be here a while. What’s up?
Beck:
Nothing. Do your thing.
And text me after you get home and actually lock your doors.
I tossed my phone in the passenger’s seat and headed toward town and to Everly’s place. Either she’d see my truck in her driveway since the clinic was attached to her house, or she’d come home and find all her shit fixed and know I’d been there.
I pulled into the driveway of the tri-level home, the single story of which served as the clinic.
After grabbing my toolbox out of the truck bed, I strolled up to the back door.
The light in the kitchen was on, but that didn’t mean anything.
Whenever there was an emergency, she left in a flurry with little thought.
I’d gotten many a text as she was heading into surgery, asking me to turn off her curling iron or to check to see if her gas stove was still on or to blow out a candle she’d left burning.
She was going to give me a goddamn heart attack one of these days.
She also rarely remembered to lock her door, which I’d snapped at her about more than once.
I didn’t care if our crime rate was comically low. It wasn’t none.
I tried the knob, anticipating the worst but, thankfully, found it locked.
Usually, the sound of keys was enough for her dog to absolutely lose her shit and come running, so I was surprised and a little on guard when I let myself in to no greeting—exuberant or otherwise.
Everly didn’t usually bring Chuck over to the clinic when she performed surgeries, but maybe she’d made an exception tonight.
I closed the door behind me and set my toolbox on the counter, checking first to make sure the stove was off—check—before scanning the place for anything out of the ordinary. My gaze automatically bypassed the person sitting at her kitchen table before snapping back, and my shoulders stiffened.
A man around my age stared back at me, brows raised, wearing nothing but a pair of goddamn basketball shorts, his dark brown hair wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, glancing around to make sure Everly wasn’t here and in trouble, never mind that her text had just confirmed she was at the clinic. When it came to her, I wasn’t always known for thinking rationally.
I’d lived in Starlight Cove my entire life, and thus I knew each and every resident within.
Knew their families, too, and their friends, and their friends’ friends.
And running the diner meant I knew even those strays who didn’t reside here but just stepped foot in our little town, and I’d never seen this fucker before a day in my life.
With a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth, Fucker gave me a once-over, quickly disregarding my backward baseball hat, plain gray T-shirt, and worn jeans. “I’m Sebastian. Who the fuck are you?”
Sebastian, Sebastian… Why did I recognize that—
I narrowed my eyes on him. That’d been the name I’d seen on Everly’s texts last night.
Before yesterday, I hadn’t heard a single thing about this guy, and now suddenly, Sebastian was texting her and hanging out in her home while she wasn’t there, showering, and eating a bowl of cereal like he owned the damn place? “How’d you get in here?”
“Everly, obviously.” Then, under his breath, he said, “They don’t grow ’em smart around here, do they?”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said,” he enunciated, louder than necessary, “how’d you get in?”
“My key.” I pulled my ring from my pocket and held it up. That’s right. I had a key to her place. One I used enough that I’d just added it to my own set. What’d he think of that?
He glanced to the toolbox on the counter, then regarded me with raised brows. “I didn’t realize she gave the handyman free entrance to her home.”
I clenched my jaw, irritation getting the better of me. “I’m not the handyman. I’m her—” I cut myself off, for some reason not wanting to admit to this cockmuppet that I was just her friend. So instead, I settled on another truth. “I’m the guy she calls when she needs help.”
I didn’t know who the fuck this guy was, why he was in Everly’s home at nine o’clock at night—okay, so I could guess on that one, but I shoved the thought out of my mind as quickly as it came—or why he wasn’t able to take care of the shit that needed fixing, only that I was the one who’d shown up for her how she needed.
It was late—way too late for a casual date, especially when Everly was currently at the clinic side of the house, taking care of a sock-eater.
This guy could use her shower, eat her food, and—probably—sleep in her bed, but he couldn’t be bothered to fix her disposal or dishwasher?
That was real fucking nice. What the hell kind of men was she involved with?
Thankfully, I’d never had the misfortune of meeting anyone she’d been dating.
When she’d moved here, she’d been in a long-distance relationship with someone—James…
Justin…Jonah… Something that began with a J, so I’d just started calling him Jackass.
Their relationship had lasted all of three months before she’d called it quits and declared a self-imposed man embargo while she’d gotten acclimated to Starlight Cove and the brand-new clinic, following her aunt’s passing.
A self-imposed man embargo that I was totally on board with. God knew how I’d handle seeing her dating anyone in town.
But even though I’d never met anyone she’d been involved with, I’d had plenty of chances to imagine what they’d be like.
I figured she’d go for someone who’d challenge her and make her laugh.
Definitely well educated, but he wouldn’t be pompous about it because she’d hate that—this guy struck out on that, at least.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “You know, for the police report.”
I nearly snorted. Let him call. I’d love to have my eldest brother and town sheriff dragged out for some bullshit report. Brady would just love that. “Great. Tell them Beck says hi.”
His brows lifted even farther, and he gave me another once-over, cocking his head to the side like he couldn’t quite work out a puzzle. “So, you’re Beck.”
He’d heard of me? Good. From his tone, he obviously wasn’t a fan. Well, he better get real fucking comfortable real fucking quick with Everly’s and my friendship because I wasn’t going anywhere.
“As you can see, Evie’s not here,” he said, gesturing to the empty house.
Evie? This assclown was already on a nickname basis with her? What the fuck.
“I know. She told me.” Yeah, we talk and she gave me a key and I’m the guy she comes to when she needs something and I have my own nickname for her, too, so good luck, pal. “Where’s Chuckanut?”
Sylvester—or whatever the fuck his name was—wrinkled his nose. “Brought him with her. Dogs and I don’t get along.”
I didn’t trust someone who didn’t like dogs. And considering Everly’s entire life revolved around animals, those two weren’t off to a great start. What the hell did she see in this guy?
“Now that we’ve established neither Evie nor her dog are here, can I help you with something?”
“Nope.” I turned my back on him and opened my toolbox, riffling through for what I needed. “Don’t mind me while I do your job for you.”
“Excuse me?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder and lifted my chin toward the dishwasher. “Didn’t you notice this was broken?”
“Of course I noticed it was broken.” He rolled his eyes as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I said under my breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, you noticed it was broken, and yet you’re not over here fixing it. I am.”
He scoffed. “It’s not like I have tools here, man.”
And grabbing them from his place was, what? Too much of an inconvenience for this guy? Couldn’t be bothered to help out the woman he was, apparently, in some sort of relationship with? Fuck, he really was a shitbag.
“All I know is Everly’s mentioned this a couple times”—okay, so it was once, just the night before, but Stuart didn’t need to know that—“which means either you don’t listen when she talks, or she tells me more than you.” I shrugged like I didn’t care either way.
He snorted and propped his definitely smaller-than-mine arms on the table and raised a brow. “You don’t want to get into the who knows Evie better game, I can promise you that.”
I set my toolbox on the floor in front of the sink, turned around, and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over my chest. This was going to be fun. “Oh yeah? Try me.”
He laughed then, a pompous, arrogant sound that set my teeth on edge. Where the fuck did she find this guy? Pottery Barn? “Fine, let’s start easy. Her favorite movie is The Notebook.”
I rolled my eyes. This guy wasn’t even trying. “That’s what she pretends her favorite movie is, but it’s really Bridesmaids.”
Simon’s brows drew down, and he straightened a bit more in his chair, as if finally realizing this was a competition. And I was winning. “She’s a weirdo who loves brussels sprouts.”
“Actually, she hates brussels sprouts. Or she did until I roasted them for her with bacon and Parmesan cheese.”
His scowl deepened. “Her favorite book is Pride & Prejudice.”
I snorted. Jesus, did this guy know her at all, or was he just there to get in her pants? “Maybe in high school. Her tastes have…matured a bit.” That was an understatement, considering the book we were reading this week dabbled in bondage and some light breath play—not that I minded.
Okay, I minded a little. I’d had more blue balls since beginning our unofficial book club over the winter than I’d had since I was a teenager.
But most midafternoons at the diner were boring as hell—especially prior to the increased business we’d been having the past couple weeks—and those books filled my time. And my jeans.
“Oh yeah?” Samuel asked. “What’s it now?”
Yeah, like I was going to help this guy figure out what turned Everly on. He was on his own. “Why the hell should I tell you?”
He lifted his brows and held up a hand. “Hey, man. This was your idea. Fine by me if you want to forfeit.”
My not answering his questions didn’t mean I was forfeiting. Only someone completely delusional would think they knew her better since they could recite the things she’d loved ten or more years ago. But there was no denying I knew her better now.
No denying he knew her better then, either. Was this jackass someone from her past? That would explain the obvious comfort he had here…everything he knew about her…the nickname…
Everly was a serial monogamist who’d had three long-term boyfriends in her life—high school, college, and during her veterinary program. There was no way this was Jackass whom she’d been dating when she moved here. But… Fuck. Hadn’t high school guy’s name started with an S?
I didn’t respond to him and instead focused on the task at hand, all the while stewing over who this guy was and what the hell he was doing back in her life.
More importantly, why hadn’t she told me anything about him? She hadn’t mentioned that she was seeing someone…not even that she’d decided she was ready to date again.
Though from the apparent assmonkey this guy was, that wasn’t so surprising. She was probably embarrassed to mention him because she knew I’d make sure he was a good guy before giving my stamp of approval.
Okay, there’d be no stamp of approval. I’d hate every single man she brought by, even if he was a member of the Peace Corps and spent his days saving kittens from trees.
Everly was the kind of woman to be worshipped. She deserved someone who’d treat her right. Someone who’d happily give her everything she needed, just to see her smile.
And there was no fucking way it was this guy.