Chapter 34
chapter thirty-four
Summer
When Dayton and I wake up, the power is back on. The storm raged outside all night. We tentatively open the door to the bungalow to survey the damage. When I walk out into the backyard, I gasp at the scene.
The two-story deck that was only halfway done has completely collapsed. I want to cry, seeing the large palm tree that fell into it, causing the entire thing to slide over and break off into splintered pieces.
“Shit,” Dayton swears, rubbing a hand over his neck. “This isn’t going to be covered by our insurance.”
“What?” I gape at him.
He shakes his head. “Builders risk insurance doesn’t cover external additions unless you add it on. I wanted to save on the cost, so I didn’t.”
My stomach churns. I can’t believe this happened only a month away from us finishing and listing the house. The back deck was going to be a huge selling point. With the mural, the view of the beach, and the outdoor kitchen we were planning to add, it was the best part of the entire house.
After all the upgrades I made, the budget was stretched thin as it was. Now, there’s no way we can finish it with what money we have left. Guilt weighs on my shoulders.
Javier comes around the side of the house, his face grim. “Well, the good news is, there’s no damage inside. Where did you two take cover last night?”
“Oh shit, January.” Dayton takes off toward the beach at a run, looping around toward our neighbor’s house once he reaches the sand.
I stare after him.
Javier looks at me, shrugging. “He must not know about her canned goods collection and the storm cellar.”
A few minutes later, Dayton is back, January tucked into one arm with Birdie on the other.
“Quite a nice young man. And we almost invited you kids over, but we figured you were getting busy, and you’d come on if you got too scared.”
January’s smile fades as they walk up and see the destroyed deck. “Oh dear, that’s quite a shame. Javier, when will the crew be back out to rebuild so I can make sure we have enough tequila and limes?”
Javier pinches the bridge between his eyes. “We’ll start right away, Ms. Jackson.”
She nods, winking at Birdie before masking her features again into a sad frown.
“Sorry about your house, deary. This is quite the mess. You’ve done such a great job with it too,” Birdie says to me.
“I’m just hoping the rest of the town is okay. We should go through and check on everyone, especially the beachfront properties.”
Wendy’s bed-and-breakfast immediately jumps to the forefront of my mind, but at least she’s farther back from the water.
“The storm left a wake of fallen trees and debris along the beaches and roads. I had to get out and move several out of the way.” Javier speaks from my left.
Dayton is studying the back deck, deep in thought. He lets go of the ladies’ arms and walks over to where the first piece of deck is. He bends down and picks it up before turning to Javier.
“Do you have your trailer?”
Javier shakes his head. “It’s at my house. I can go get it.”
Dayton nods. “I’ll start on cleanup.”
I stare in shock as he pulls his shirt off, tosses it to the side, and starts gathering the loose debris into a pile. Javier seems to be just as surprised. He blinks twice before jolting out of the trancelike state he was in.
“Of course, yes. I’ll get the trailer and some of the workers to come help.” He scurries off toward the front of the house.
Birdie and January look at each other before glancing my way.
“We’ll be back later, honey. Don’t let him work too fast before we get a chance to make a pitcher of mimosas and invite Lucille over!”
They start hobbling back to January’s house.
“Okay, uh, I won’t.” I wave at them.
Drool starts pooling on my bottom lip as I watch the sun glistening on Dayton’s sweaty, defined back and shoulder muscles. My breathing is ragged. He should be studied in anatomy classrooms, like those little drawings in medical textbooks that show every muscle underneath the skin.
I shake my head, trying to snap out of it as I pick up a board to throw on the growing pile. He turns, grabbing my wrist. He uses his free arm to wipe the sweat off his brow.
“I just need you to get me some water, pull up a beach chair, and play The Beach Boys on your Bluetooth speaker.”
I nod, almost giving in to the instinct to lean forward to press a kiss to his lips.
Instead, I cross my arms over my stomach. “Okay.”
When I try to turn away, he loops a hand through my elbow, draws me in closer, and kisses me passionately. He nibbles my lower lip and groans, the vibration reverberating through me.
“You’re a distraction. No wonder this project is behind schedule.” He sighs before releasing me.
I blush, backing away to grab his water and my chair so I can watch him work. Hopefully, the Bees will come back with mimosas to soothe my anxious nerves.
At least he’s not mad about the utterly destroyed budget.
By early afternoon, the old deck has been fully removed.
It took a while, and they had to use a chain saw to cut away the palm tree and the bigger posts.
Javier and Dayton discussed how he should’ve cemented the structure into the earth so that it was hurricane-proof, and he agreed to do that, moving forward with the new one.
The rest of Coconut Beach pulled together to clear most of the debris on the roads. The beaches will take longer to clear, and the mayor scheduled a bonfire for next week so we could burn all the trees that fell.
After taking a shower, Dayton comes outside to where I’m sweeping up the walkway on the side of the house, where the tree branches and old deck wood left a trail of splintered wood and palm leaves.
He grabs the broom from me. I hold on, trying not to let him take it.
“Dayton,” I complain, “you’ve been working all day.”
“I’ve built up quite the appetite that old grapes aren’t going to fill. I think I’ll have another steak dinner at the Grand Palm tonight.”
I finally release the broom. He starts sweeping the pathway clear. My stomach flutters at what he’s implying, but I still want him to ask.
“Hope you have fun with that,” I finally say.
He grins, looking up at me. He’s so handsome when he smiles; it nearly takes my breath away. With his dark hair and the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw, combined with the burning image in my brain of his sweaty muscles working in the sun all day, I nearly melt.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?”
I have to bite my lip to keep myself from letting him know how much I wanted him to ask. I wait a few seconds to answer.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally say, attempting to sound disinterested.
“Great. I hope to see you at eight.” He puts the broom down and walks up to me, pecking my cheek with a kiss.
When I walk into the waterfront restaurant at the Grand Palm, Dayton is already seated at a table on the balcony.
He’s wearing a loose linen button-down in a pastel-green color.
His hair is styled in messy waves, and he’s so incredibly good-looking that I have to remind myself to breathe.
I pause at the entrance near the host stand, attempting to swallow over the lump in my throat.
The Grand Palm is the nicest resort in town. It has high ceilings, modern wood accents, lush greenery inside, and tall palm trees visible through the open balcony. Soft romantic music plays as the lanterns on the wall flicker.
I watch Dayton lift a glass of white wine to his lips, staring out over the dark water.
It’s eight twenty. I’m late because I kept changing my hair and my clothes.
Nothing felt suitable to wear for a date with my long-term enemy/stepbrother/hookup buddy at a fancy restaurant.
This is the type of place people eat at to celebrate ten-year wedding anniversaries or birthdays that end in zeros.
I finally called Juniper, on the brink of tears.
She convinced me that nothing in my closet would suffice, so I had to run over to the Coral Moon Boutique and scour their racks for a suitable option.
Thankfully, they were open despite the storm and had a gorgeous pink satin spaghetti-strap dress that wasn’t too tight, but hugged me in all the right places.
It brushes along my ankles. My hair is in spiral waves down my back, where the dress dips to expose my spine.
As I weave through the other guests toward the table, Dayton finally turns and sees me. I don’t know what expression I was expecting to see cross his features, but the way his lips part and his eyes trail over my frame heats my skin. He pulls out my chair.
He thought I was standing him up again.
“You sure know how to make an entrance,” he says as I sit.
“Didn’t expect me to show?”
“I wasn’t sure.” He takes his seat, signaling for the waiter.
He licks his lips. “You are breathtaking. Am I still allowed to call you Cupcake?”
I debate my answer before slowly nodding. He doesn’t outwardly react, but his Adam’s apple bobs.
The waitstaff is all dressed in black pants, black aprons, and white button-down shirts. Our waiter approaches with a bottle of pinot grigio.
“Wine, miss?”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
He fills the wineglass halfway, then proceeds to fill my water glass from a silver pitcher.
“Can I interest you in any appetizers?”
Dayton waits for me to answer.
My eyes drop down to the leather menu. “Can we try the oysters and the truffle-stuffed mushrooms?”
“Certainly.” He walks away.
I grab my wineglass, taking a slow sip. It’s light and crisp, and I’m sure it costs a pretty penny. Dayton is watching me, his expression unreadable.
“So, what have you been up to for the last ten years?” I ask.
He chuckles, leaning back against his chair. He’s so massive. His presence is overwhelming. I keep having flashbacks of his body on top of me in his apartment in Miami. The memory of his muscular shoulders flexing in the lamp light makes my toes curl. I loved feeling the heavy weight of him.