Chapter 1
Chapter One
PARKER
I t’s too fucking early.
My alarm rings, and I slap my phone again. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes is all I need. Rubbing my sore eyes, I drop back to the pillow and ignore the light creeping in the shades.
Sleep takes me under, but it doesn’t seem like more than a few seconds go by before the alarm rings again. I turn it off with a groan. It feels like the middle of the night. My head’s slow from getting such shitty sleep. All I want to do is give up and spend the morning napping, but checking the time, I know I have to get out of bed and get moving. Maybe coffee will help.
The bed groans as I sit up and pull the shades open. The sun’s coming through the window. A new day is getting started. It’s time for me to get started too, even if last night was hell.
I glare through my bedroom wall, which was where most of the sound came from. My bedroom backs up to her living room. I tried everything. Headphones. A pillow over my head. A white noise app. Nothing worked, because the people in the house next door were throwing a raging party. The music went on and on and on. Girls shrieked on and off, though I couldn’t tell what they were saying. All I know is they were too fucking loud until nearly 4am.
I kept thinking it would end. Five more minutes, and they’d get sick of the music. Ten more minutes, and they’d run out of things to talk about. Fifteen more minutes, and they’d run out of beer or whatever they were drinking.
And, yeah, I could have been the asshole who called the cops, but then I’d be the asshole who called the cops. Worse than that, I’d be the asshole landlord who called the cops. They’d know it was me, or they’d find out, and word spreads fast in a little beach town like this one. Especially in the early spring when things are still slow. Who the hell knows what would happen if I became the town’s asshole landlord who called the cops because of one party? Especially when I’m only thirty-two and I’ve been known to throw my own parties.
Wouldn’t help my art shop, that’s for sure. Just thinking about the shop reminds me that I need to be grateful I could rent out the place next door.
I need a shower. I need a reset. I need to get dressed and get my head on straight so I’ll be ready for work. I need to take advantage of every minute of sunlight this spring and summer, because the store barely survived the winter months.
Things are always slower in a beach town during the winter. Everybody knows that. But last winter was brutal and without the property rented, I had to dip into savings for the first time since I moved here. The store was barely able to keep its doors open, and that’s only because I paid myself less to help keep the bills up to date.
I got through December by telling myself that it would all turn around come summer. I focused on painting and collecting pieces from other artists. I told myself everything would get better as soon as the weather warmed up and people started coming to the beach.
That’s exactly what I’m doing. Every day this spring counts, and I’m taking advantage of the time by going to where the people are: on the beach.
Including meeting the contractor to fix up the bathroom in… I check the clock, 45 minutes.
In the shower, I wash my hair extra hard and scrub my face, then try out a few smiles.
It’s going to be a great day. Tourists are already trickling in. I’ll sell enough pieces to get ahead for the week, and by the end of the week, I’ll be ahead for the month, and by the end of the month, it won’t matter if the winter is slow. I’ll have a cushion to get me and the store through. I’ll have a safety net.
One day at a time.
I towel off and get dressed, then head out to the kitchen. Extra-strong coffee will have to pull its weight today. I drink it too hot, because I’m already running a little late—I would have been up an hour ago if it wasn’t for the party.
I grab a few pieces from the bedroom and carry them out to my old blue chevy truck. The rest of the stuff I need is either at the store or in the trunk already, so there’s not much more packing to do. One inhale and I’m already feeling better. The salty air, the warmth from the sun. Hell, even the call from the seagulls is soothing this morning. I get it all put away, the pieces divided by little strips of foam I keep back there just for this, and shut the gate.
The condo next to mine is quiet in the morning sun. It’s one of those perfect mornings that make this place look like paradise, and the condo could still be part of it. There are no signs of the party that went on all goddamn night. No garbage on the lawn. No tipped-over lawn furniture. It looks snug and quaint, like nobody would ever keep their neighbors up with loud-ass music for hours on end, and if they did, they’d keep the evidence inside, where at least that wouldn’t bother anybody else. I bought it only a year after buying my place. It was a fixer upper but it didn’t take me long to get it looking like new. Renting it out gave me the funds to take the leap and open up my shop.
I’ve put everything into that place. My brow furrows as a yawn hits me.
I’m annoyed. I’m irritated. And I’m also surprised. The girl I rented the condo to didn’t seem like the type to throw parties like that. Luna seemed sweet when I met her, and I’ve seen her a few times since. We had a nice moment once when she was coming home and I was leaving for work. It felt comfortable, like we’d flirted a few times before, and yeah, I liked it.
Luna is another reason I didn’t call the cops last night. I don’t want her to think I’m the kind of guy who gets upset over nothing, because I’m not that kind of guy. I am a person who needs to be up for work. I didn’t think I would have to ask her to keep her parties quieter when she’s been quiet up til now.
But the reason I’m renting out the condo month to month is to make enough money to float me if the store has a few rough months, which it did over the winter. Last thing I want is to make Luna want to back out of the lease.
If she did that, I wouldn’t get to see her anymore. I’d never get to learn anything about her, and I want to know more about her, damn it.
She was too cute. She was witty too, with quick comebacks. And I liked the sound of her voice. One party wasn’t enough to change that. It was rude, though.
I go around and get into my truck, then turn it on fast, before I can think anything else about the girl next door. I have a job to do. I keep my mind on the beach while I pull out of the driveway and leave the condo behind, even if I’m tired as hell and there’s a petite brunette with large hazel eyes on my mind all day.