Chapter 3
Chapter Three
SHELLY
“ I can’t believe you talked me into this.” I smooth a hand over the paisley patterned dress I’m wearing, the tassels catching against my ankle bracelet with each step.
“Relax, girl. You’re taking the night off and you’re going to enjoy yourself.” Ava hooks her arm through mine as we walk into the town’s prestigious country club.
“I don’t belong here.” Clutching the crochet purse in my hand, my fingers fiddle with the smooth shells attached to the woven yarn. I rarely come to the country club, unless I’m doing a talk or raising money, but tonight, it’s someone’s birthday. A friend of Sullivan’s, Ava’s man. We’d planned to have a girly night, but she’d double-booked, so dragged me along with her to this party.
“Hush now, it’s a free bar. You look like you could use a drink or three, girl. Make the most of it. I will.” She giggles, stepping into the function room at the back of the club .
Freshly cooked lobster, crab, salmon, and prime rib are served at the buffet table. The smell of cooked meat catches in my nose, making me nauseous.
A waiter walks by with a silver tray of champagne flutes. “Ma’am.”
Ava snatches up two flutes, handing one to me. “Cheers.”
“What are we cheering for?” I glance around at the poshest party I’ve ever been invited to, still questioning why I’m here.
She clinks her glass against mine. “Hard work, a successful fundraiser tomorrow, and a night of no regrets.”
“And a free bar.” I snort as I inhale the bubbles up my nose. “We may as well take advantage of the free buffet, too.”
“Ava, you’re here,” Sullivan says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Shelly, nice to see you again. Thank you for taking over the turtle talk on the boat tour last week.”
“No problem. Any time you’re short-staffed, just let me know. I’m always available for a turtle talk.” I take the few steps to the side of the white room, giving Ava and Sullivan some privacy. Lifting a delicate white porcelain plate, I’m ready to sample Magnolia Point’s finest buffet.
Behind me, a male voice with a British accent says, “The King prawns are really nice here.”
My stomach tenses as hairs prickle on the back of my neck. I spin around, inhaling his cologne, a mix of earthy tones, and a hint of paint. My mouth parts as I suck in a breath. My centre betrays me again, my walls clenching for the dark-haired man before me in a tux.
He runs a thumb under his suspenders. “Hey turtle girl, I almost didn’t recognise you.” His smile widens into a cocky grin before he gives the boys behind him a nod .
“I almost didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.” My cheeks heat the more he smirks at me.
He steps closer, his hand brushing my hip as he reaches for the prawns. “Try one.” He brings it to my mouth, but I press my lips together and shake my head, bile rising in my throat.
“I don’t eat seafood.”
Chad sidles up to Finn. “To look at her you’d think she was on a see food diet.”
“Chad, you’re hilarious, but isn’t it time you devised a better joke?” I clench my back teeth, trying not to let my nemesis spoil my night. I refuse to let him take any more from me than he already has.
“Mate, this is an adult’s only party. What are you, ten?” Finn glares at Chad and nods to the rest of the group, who’re sniggering like a bunch of immature schoolboys.
Chad chuckles and pats him on the back. “Do your thing, bud,” he says before retreating to the rest of the imbeciles in this town, leaving me with the one man determined to annoy me this week.
“So you’re vegan? Or do you just not like seafood?”
“None of your business.” I’m no longer hungry and step away from the buffet table to shake him off and find where Ava disappeared to.
“Fair enough,” he says, still hot on my heels. “So are you a friend of my dad’s?”
I spin around with pinched eyebrows. “What? Why would I know your dad? I don’t even know you.”
“I just figured since you’re here, he must have invited you, unless you’re gatecrashing.”
“Your dad’s the birthday boy?” I twist the beaded handle of my purse between my clammy palms. “I’m here with Ava and Sullivan. They invited me. ”
“Ah, right? Well, it’s me. I’m the birthday boy.”
My eyes widen. “This is your party?”
“Yep.” He lifts a glass of champagne from a nearby silver platter and hands me another drink. “Excuse me,” he calls to a waiter with a canapé tray. “Do you have any vegan food for our guest here?”
“Oh, please no. Don’t trouble yourself for me.” I step back, wanting to disappear quietly into the night.
“It’s no trouble.” He glances behind him, his group of friends still sniggering and joking. They may appear sophisticated in their fine clothes, but I only see the boys who caused me misery growing up.
I was the girl who was homeschooled. My education was counting shells and learning the ecosystem firsthand. This isn’t my crowd. I sometimes wonder why I remained in Magnolia Point when I could be off travelling around Europe with my parents, but I stayed to continue my parents’ foundation. Years of effort to protect this beach. They left me in charge of the charity to pursue other needed projects. I couldn’t leave my home or my turtles.
Finn glances back at his friends. “You know they’re not my mates, right?”
“You seem pretty tight to me.” I knock my champagne back, the bubbles going up my nose again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to drinking out of these silly flute glasses.
“If we were tight, do you think I’d do this?” He steps into my space.
I step back, wobbling on my feet. The earthy scent of him sending me delirious.
He catches me with a gentle hand on my back, steadying me on my feet.
My head inches backward to look up into his eyes as he leans closer. “What are you doing?” I croak out, almost doing the limbo in his arms to keep a suitable distance between our lips.
He dips his head, his five-o’clock shadow scratching my cheek as he whispers in his hypnotising British accent, “What does it look like I’m doing, turtle girl?”
I gulp, willing my lips not to fall for his tricks. My pulse pounds in my neck. “Whatever it is, you can forget it.” The words come out with each panting breath.
His lips brush against the pulse in my neck, and somehow I feel the sensation between my thighs. “Your body’s telling me different.” His fingers graze my cheek. “I can feel your heart beating against my chest. Is the pulse between your thighs beating to the same rhythm?”
My cheeks grow hotter than the sun. With my jaw clenched, I suck in the air through my nostrils, ready to breathe out fire. Friends with the town’s rich pricks or not, he’s an arrogant ass.
“You want me. You couldn’t take your eyes off my chest when we were on the beach.”
“Only because I couldn’t make out your stupid tattoos.”
He’s so close. And he smells so good. Why must he smell so intoxicating? If he kisses me, I’m not sure I could say no. It’s a battle between my mind and my body right now and I’m ready to wage war on the latter.
He lets out a small laugh. “Perhaps you should consider taking a closer look.”
My eyes flick to his lips, then back to his crystal blue eyes as he holds me captive.
“We can have some fun tonight. I can tend to your wet, aching pussy.”
I scrunch my nose and cringe. “Who says that?”
He had me hypnotised, but that was before he made assumptions about my anatomy .
“How about a birthday kiss?” He inches closer, but waits for me to meet him halfway.
I turn my face to the side. The heat in my veins turns to anger, causing me to boil over like a lobster in a pan and I’m probably just as red. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you paid me.” Is he insane? And they call me mental Myrtle. With my newfound strength and adrenaline coursing through my veins, I push against his chest.
His eyes widen in surprise as he backs into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. Time slows down as the flutes topple, bubbles spilling over the silver tray. The fizzy liquid runs down his tux and white dinner shirt.
I inhale a deep breath, composing myself after the invasion into my personal space, one that my body clearly enjoyed, judging by the heat between my thighs, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that to him.
My lips lift in the corner as black ink shows through his now transparent shirt, and my resolve weakens when the fabric sticks to his washboard abs, reminding me of the ridges on the shells of my spirit animals.
The guys are in a fit of laughter like a bunch of hyenas and I almost feel bad for this guy, especially as it’s his birthday, but I can’t stop the smile widening on my face.
The waiter did well to catch the falling glasses, and luckily, none smashed on the floor. “Forgive me, sir,” he says, trying to mop up the spill with a bunch of napkins. A few more waiters and waitresses come to the rescue while Finn clenches his jaw and takes off his jacket.
Suspenders look good snapped against his skin. I move my head side to side, trying to shake the image from memory, knowing my subconscious filed it away for another time. “Looks like you’re the one who’s wet now, Richie Rich. ”
“It’s Finnegan Alexander Charles Jones Fitzpatrick to you.”
“Of course it is.” I take another glass of champagne and walk away with a smug smile, searching for Ava.
Turtle girl, one. Birthday boy, zero.