Chapter Three
“Here you go,”Tyler says, handing me my drink.
“Thank you,” I reply. I take a sip of the fruity goodness, the drink that Landon said was too fattening and shouldn’t be enjoyed except for the rarest of occasions.
“Anything else I can do for you?” he asks.
And this is where I’m stuck. Because I know exactly who he is, and I’m pretty sure he knows who I am, and I think he knows I know who he is, even though I’m pretending I don’t.
Do I keep up the charade?
“Actually, yes. Can you bring that umbrella this way?” I ask, pointing at the umbrella in the corner of the pool deck.
“Sure, no problem.” He smirks at me, then heads over to the umbrella and starts wheeling it over.
I observe his movements, marveling at how much his arms have filled in over the last five years. He’s gone from scrawny young adult to full-on man, and that makes him more attractive than ever.
Is it bad that I’m already attracted to someone else when I was supposed to get married three days ago?
No, it can’t be. I’m objectively attracted to a beautiful human being. That’s only natural, right?
I can’t believe he works here, though. He’s twenty-five years old, and he’s just working as a pool boy at a local hotel? It’s disappointing, but reinforces the reasons I didn’t want to pursue anything long-lasting five years ago. That summer was fun, to be sure, but I knew then there was no real potential for us. In a way, I’m glad to be proven right after all.
He pops open the umbrella, giving me some shade from the hot California sun. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” I reply.
He sets one hand on his hip, leaning his other arm on the umbrella stand. I sigh inwardly, noting how well he’s aged.
“Did you just check in?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
Oh, the nerve. Now I know he recognizes me. “Yes. I checked in this morning.”
“And how long are you staying?”
“A week.” I push my sunglasses to the top of my head, both so I can get an unobstructed look at him and so he can see me clearly, too.
No reaction. “I hope you enjoy your stay. Have you been to Canyon Cove before?”
“Once.”
“Oh, nice.” A smirk appears on his lips. “How long ago?”
I want to punch his smug face. “About five years,” I reply.
“Ah.” He nods. “Anyone here you’re hoping to see?”
I gape at him, then notice that his lips are pressed together tightly and his shoulders are shaking. He’s laughing.
“You brat,” I say, a smile spreading on my lips.
He takes that as the signal that the charade is over, and he laughs out loud. “Brooke Westfield, I wondered how long you’d pretend not to recognize me.”
My heart warms at the sound of my name on his lips. “I’m not the one who broke first,” I protest.
“True. That was all me.” He sits down on the pool chair next to me. “So, what have you been up to for the last few years?”
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” I ask, looking around for whoever must be his boss.
He furrows his brow. “Trouble?”
“Yeah, for sitting and talking to a guest while you’re on the job.”
His eyes soften and the side of his mouth lifts in a grin. “No. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I take another sip of my drink and lean back in my chair. I don’t miss the way his eyes rove over my legs as I lay back. My swimsuit is modest, but I still do my best to keep myself in shape. “Well, I finished my degree.”
“What did you end up pursuing? Art?”
I shake my head, surprised he remembers. “I decided to go into communications.”
“Communications?” He furrows his brow. “What made you choose that?”
I shrug, not wanting to say that it was my parents and Landon who figured it would be the best path for me instead of getting a “useless” degree in art, specifically painting. “I finished my bachelors two years ago, and then I got my masters. So I’ve just been in school until now.”
“Do you have a job lined up?”
I feel my face flushing, and turn to look at the pool. “Uh, no.”
“Really? I’m surprised you haven’t had some job secured for the last few years.”
How do you explain to someone that your degrees ended up just being pretty certificates to place in your husband’s study? That your only plan in life was to be the decoration on his arm?
And now that everything has exploded, you have no idea what to do with your life and the education that you didn’t care for in the first place?
Before I can answer, a scraggy teenager comes up and taps Tyler on the shoulder. “Mr. Matthews, there’s a phone call for you about the repairs. I tried to talk to them, but they said they would only speak to the owner of the hotel.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Maverick.” He stands and brushes off his shorts. “Duty calls,” he says with a wink, and turns to walk back into the hotel.
I’m sure I look like a fish, my mouth wide open. “Wait, what?” I squeal. “You’re the owner?”
He turns back to face me, that same scheming glint in his eye, and shrugs. “I’ll see you around, Brooke Westfield.”
I spendthe rest of the afternoon at the pool, mentally berating myself for assuming that Tyler was just a pool boy. But how was I supposed to know that he’s the owner of this hotel? I must have seemed so condescending. No wonder he just smirked at me when I asked if he would get in trouble. I could kick myself.
But at the same time, he has to know why this would be a shock. Five years ago, he said his life goal was to be a beach bum, to make just enough money so he could surf whenever he wanted. I never saw him as an ambitious business owner. How did he even get this position?
And things have changed for me over the last few years, as well. When we met, I was undecided on my major, but had dreams of being a professional artist. Tyler supported that wholeheartedly. He told me I didn’t even need to finish college, but could find all the experience I needed by just living life here in Canyon Cove, practicing and refining my craft, and then taking advantage of the art scene here, which includes weekly art gallery walks in the summer. I could have even enrolled at the Canyon Cove Art Institute.
But I thought that was ridiculous, and staying here would be a waste. I needed to finish my degree, to get some kind of credibility in this world that showed how valuable I was, and then I could move on with my life.
Well, look where that got me. A useless degree in communications and a failed engagement.
No matter. Right now is not the time to keep panicking about my future. I have this week to enjoy life, and then I’ll worry about everything when I get back to Colorado.
So I spend the next two days as any grown, sophisticated woman would—hiding from Tyler. I tell myself I’m just sightseeing my way around Canyon Cove, walking on Main Street and eating at restaurants, taking a stroll on the beach (but not swimming in the ocean, because that terrifies me). Every time I walk in or out of the inn, I keep an eye out for Tyler and make sure I rush to my room if he’s anywhere in sight.
But tonight is Thursday, which is when the weekly art walks occur, and I’m definitely going to attend. So I pull out one of my favorite dresses—a red, fitted knee-length dress with cap sleeves, matched with patent leather red heels. Then I curl my hair and paint on some red lipstick. Paired with my white clutch, the one I was supposed to use for my wedding, and some pearls, I’m ready for a night out on the town to admire local art.
I take a picture in the mirror and send it to the girls.
Ready for a night out on the town!
Chloe
You look stunning!
Ava
You deserve it, girl! Go have fun!
Maggie
Watch out Canyon Cove!
Their messages fill me with new confidence. If Tyler is down in the lobby, no more hiding. It’s time to face my fears head-on.