Chapter ii
Beach Thriller
ii
Our intrepid princess returned to the party with newfound excitement.
Moments ago, Anna had glimpsed her fate, or so she believed.
The raw, unbridled energy coursing through her was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Somehow, some way, she was meant to be with Conrad Carmichael.
She knew it in her soul. The when and how were details to sort out later.
Anna caught herself and laughed. What an idiot she was being.
This was the man’s engagement party—he was going to be married soon.
And she’d had a sense of foreboding all evening.
How could she suddenly feel elated? Yet she couldn’t shake the visceral conviction that her life was meant to intertwine with Conrad’s.
What on earth could explain this connection after only a few minutes of idle conversation?
The answer made her feel worse. Anna had grown up on a steady diet of romance novels, rom-coms, and glossy magazines.
She was a natural-born dreamer who couldn’t resist visiting any psychic’s studio she passed, hoping for a quick glimpse into her future.
What would the psychic foretell if she followed her childish heart?
She could guess. Buckle up, sweetheart. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Anna filled her tray with more beverages—tall champagne flutes for the grand finale, the big toast of the night: cheers to the future bride and groom. At least she’d found her smile; Holly should be happy about that.
The setting could not have been more perfect—or more romantic, Anna lamented.
The scent of salty ocean air mingled with fancy perfumes.
Gentle waves lapped at the shore, a rhythmic lullaby beneath the cheerful notes of the jazz band.
The tiki torches flickered in the breeze, bathing the beach in an air of mystery.
To make the toast more festive, the staff handed out flowered Hawaiian leis to all the guests, their bare feet dusted with sand, turning the Barefoot Ball into a moonlit luau.
Meanwhile, Anna passed out the champagne, daydreams filling her head.
Mrs. Anna Carmichael. She had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.
The fantasy pulled her deeper. Suddenly it was her wedding day.
Bells ringing, bubbles and confetti filling the air.
She and Conrad rushing down the broad stone stairs of the big white church (how many movies had that scene?), their arms linked in a symbol of togetherness.
They looked like a glorious pair—cute as a couple of cake toppers.
They climbed into the waiting limo decorated with colorful signs and washable paint.
Time to honeymoon, but first, they had to make the wedding official under the sheets.
Love at first sight was a real thing. Anna always wanted to believe it was true, and now she was convinced.
Judging by the way Conrad’s eyes tracked her every move, he might be a believer as well.
However, she felt another gaze burn even hotter—Elizabeth’s.
Conrad’s perfectly perky blond fiancée didn’t appreciate the attention her betrothed lavished upon the help.
Anna navigated through clusters of the town’s best-looking and best-dressed people, her feet sinking into the sand, careful with her steps like someone crossing a minefield. The ornate champagne flutes clinked together on her tray in a delicate, chiming melody.
She soon ran into Baxter Ward, father of the bride-to-be, who had silver hair the color of a glittery fish and the red eyes of a drunken sailor.
Anna carefully balanced the tray while Baxter took a drink he didn’t need. He placed his free hand on her hip, his fingers pressing into her flesh. She wanted to scream or stomp on his bare toes, but any retaliation would risk alienating her from Conrad.
“Where have you been all night, beautiful?” he slurred. He took his hand off her hip only to reach into his pocket for a business card, which he slid onto her tray. “That has my private number. Call me any time you need … work.”
Anna managed a smile, even as her skin crawled, then slunk away before he could pinch her ass—or worse.
Thank God her shift was nearly over. She needed to find Holly and spill every tantalizing detail of her conversation with Conrad at the fountain. But first, she had to get these drinks handed out—and avoid Elizabeth (and her creepy dad) at all costs.
Funny enough, Elizabeth—who had been aloof all night, her focus laser-locked on the party VIPs instead of her betrothed—now clung to Conrad as if she were his cologne. Wherever Anna turned, there he was—Conrad, standing next to the stunning Elizabeth, whose curves were made for a race car.
She fawned over him in a sickening way. Anna could hardly bear it. Elizabeth threw him doe-eyed looks, laughing like he was the funniest man alive, her head tossed back for emphasis. Her fingers ran up and down his strong arms. Maybe it was the alcohol. She looked a little wobbly on her feet.
But she wasn’t so drunk that she failed to recognize Anna as a serious threat. The blaze in Elizabeth’s eyes implied Anna had wandered into the wrong den.
Baxter Ward, eager for another glass of champagne (not that he needed it), waved Anna over—right near where Conrad and Elizabeth stood. She made her way toward him cautiously, her steps steady.
It happened in a flash. Despite her focus, something caught her foot, and Anna lost control.
Her body lurched forward, the tray slipping from her grasp.
Six crystal champagne flutes filled with sparkling bubbly flew through the air.
They soaked Baxter’s shirt like he’d gone for a swim, before cratering into the sand.
A few glasses shattered into sharp pieces as they struck one another.
Anna fell with them, landing hard, her hands pressing into broken glass, slicing her delicate skin.
The beach erupted into a collective gasp. Anna’s thoughts blurred, dulling what should have been stabbing pain in her palms.
Baxter let out an uproarious laugh. “You’re not getting paid to make sandcastles. Get up!”
Before she could process it all—the shocked faces and her embarrassment—Anna felt someone lift her to her feet. Then a loud voice called out over the crowd.
“Oh, my fault, my fault.” It was Conrad, his voice booming. “I am so sorry. I must have bumped into you. Here, let me help you get cleaned up.”
Bumped? No. Someone had tripped her. Anna was sure of it.
She looked around at the mess she’d made, horrified. She caught sight of Maeve, eyes piercing, and Baxter, who grinned down at her, while Elizabeth looked … triumphant.