Chapter 3
Carly studied Cyree as the woman scooted to the edge of her white leather office chair, her small frame looking as poised and perfect as the rest of her sleek, contemporary office.
The woman couldn’t be more than five years older than Carly, but she had a professional air about her that demonstrated just why she held such an important position at the Royal Palm.
“You know our motto, Carly. Patron satisfaction is of upmost importance. I hate to state the obvious and say especially patrons with the last name Craven, but…”
Carly fought back an eye roll and glanced out the wall of windows. Somewhere out there, Mark Craven’s son stood, probably whining about the idea of not getting his way. In fact, he was likely calling his father in that very moment. Or his agent. Or the producer of his upcoming show…
“It’s fine,” she said with a sniff. “I just…am really going to miss working with the kids.”
“I understand,” Cyree said. “As soon as his five weeks is up, you’ll go back to your scheduled appointments.”
“Five weeks?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it aloud but that was way longer than she’d imagined.
“Yes. He’ll be playing the role of a pro surfer. Which is exactly what brought him to our resort—we’re the only one who has one on staff.” Cyree’s smile gleamed with pride, the way Carly’s probably did when her students mastered those tricky words for the spelling bee.
Sure, she was a schoolteacher now, but she’d won her fair share of surf comps and made a decent amount of money in the process.
A swell of unwelcome images rushed in, reminding her of the time she’d given it all up.
No, don’t let those in right now. She’d seen the way people looked at her when her emotions took over, and Carly had had enough pity in her life.
“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out.” Carly came to a stand and gave the woman a nod.
“And thank you for coming straight to me with your inquiry,” Cyree said. “I look forward to seeing what you can do with Mr. Craven.”
With one last nod to Cyree, Carly stepped out of the quiet office and pressed a hand to her chest. The area had tightened at the sound of the famous actor’s name.
Embarrassment crept through her. There was just so much chaos stirring.
Memories prodding. Tears mounding. She moved quickly down the hallway and through the massive foyer where all the hustle and bustle came to life.
She quickened her steps, veered left to avoid a bellman cart, right to dodge an old couple wearing tennis clothes and sun visors, and made for the exit.
How would she get through the next five weeks without even one fun-loving, easy going, open-hearted little soul to light up her day?
Had fate not delivered her such a hard blow, Carly would have a little one of her very own.
An ache settled over her heart as she pushed open the swinging door with a swoosh and hurried over the covered patio. She should go apologize for her behavior, Carly knew that much, but she couldn’t get herself to do it yet. Not with the replay of past hurts so fresh in her mind.
She reached for the leather cord at her neck, secured the ceramic pendant dangling from it, and ran her thumb over the polished surface.
There, she could feel the inscription. Tears welled in her eyes as she made her way to a nearby palm tree, hidden by a wall of green shrubs.
A wicker bench waited there, tempting Carly with privacy and shade.
As she sank into the seat, she envisioned the three distinct parts while tracing over them.
First, a name—her name: Ava Marie. Below that, two arrows pointed inward toward a single square, symbolizing the way her baby girl came and left—all on the very same day.
Tiny, scattered grains dotted the space beneath the inscription, like sand under the ocean floor, but it signified something of its own; the way Carly’s heart had crumbled into a million pieces that day.
She clenched her eyes shut, lifted the pendant, and pressed it against her lips.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought back the sobs.
Come on, Carly. It’s just a small setback.
But that was just it. Why now were her emotions on the brink of bubbling over?
Why now did everything feel so raw? It seemed as if she’d taken a hundred steps back in time and erased all her healed parts in the process.
But then it hit her, hard and sudden like a concrete slab in her gut: In the instant before we release something meaningful, we tighten our grasp.
She uttered a whisper to the heavens. “Please say this means I’m letting him go.
Please say that it’s actually happening this time.
” Carly hated even thinking of the many times she’d tried and failed to let Jimmy fade into her past where he belonged.
She hadn’t been able to stop herself from reaching out and dragging him into the present, determined to make him part of her future.
But her sister was right; this time was different.
She could feel it. Carly sat with the idea, let it seep over her doubts and put them to rest. She could do this.
She could move on and have a life outside of Jimmy.
Even if a part of her hated the idea, an even bigger part of her knew it was necessary.
I’m actually going to be working with Mark Craven’s son.
The thought hit her anew. Now that she’d resolved herself to accepting the job, Carly had to pause at the magnitude. This was the famous actor’s actual son. Mark Craven—as in the first grown man Carly had ever had a crush on as a girl.
When she’d first spotted the guy walking alongside Christian—tall, dark, and as muscled as the buff dancer himself—every thought in her head had been hijacked by the sight.
Even now, her heart skipped a beat at the recollection.
Strong, well defined jaw accented by a masculine five o’clock shadow.
As they neared, she’d noticed that his eyes were dark, almost brooding, and filled with something Carly had wanted to call interest, maybe even in her, though she couldn’t be sure.
Gage, she reminded herself. His name was Gage Craven. One of her favorite melodies played in the back of her mind: Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It was an appropriate one for the man in her thoughts—dark, mysterious, and laced with an unknown quality that left her wanting more.
Of course, all of those swoon-worthy details had vanished once Carly found out he was literally hijacking her job for the summer. From that point on, he’d come off as arrogant.
Her shoulders drooped at the recollection. He’d barely given her more than a glance when she confronted him and Christian about the lessons, like he was too good to be part of the conversation. Sorry, but you two are the hired help. Figure it out amongst yourselves, would you?
It all begged a question: What kind of privileged life had he led, anyway?
Cooks and maids waiting on him hand and foot.
Oh, you’d like silk chocolate mousse for dessert with fresh raspberries and a mint leaf?
Well, it’s past midnight on a school night, but I’ll have the cook whip one up for you.
How about a Mercedes for your sweet sixteen?
Souped-up speakers and spinning rims? Only the best for our son.
Oh, and you’d like the female instructor instead of the guy who’d actually be happy to work with you? No problem!
She fought back a wry grin, reality of who this guy really was setting in.
Whatever she’d mistaken for interest in her was exactly that—mistaken.
The guy was probably determined to marry a super model who could match his good looks and magnify the spotlight he’d be walking in once his movie came out.
Heck, even now people were probably throwing themselves at him to get on his good side.
But Carly hadn’t, and suddenly she was glad about that.
Too bad if he thought he was better than her.
They were on her playground now. If Mr. Hollywood wanted to learn how to surf for his upcoming role, he’d have to get over the notion that he was superior in some way.
She nodded as that thought settled in. She would simply refuse to be intimidated by him.
He was human like everyone else. Besides, he was the one coming to her for help.
Not the other way around. Her chest swelled with a fresh wave of confidence.
She was a good instructor, and this guy was nothing more than her newest student.
Of course, she might treat her little guests like royalty, but Mr. Craven would not get any special treatment from her.
Without invitation, her sister’s challenge popped into her mind. “Promise me you’ll make out with at least one guy on the beach.”
A smile crossed over her lips as she let herself imagine that very thing. It wasn’t likely—in fact, it was closer to impossible—but just the idea caused a swell of goosebumps to ripple up her arms and a delicious heat to stir in her tummy.
Stop, Carly. Jimmy’s going to come around, and you don’t want to be distracted and miss your chance.
As soon as the thought came to her, she acknowledged how backward it was.
It was that kind of self-talk that had held her back for so many years.
If she was ever going to move on, she’d need to allow herself to think of other men.
Even if they were clear out of her league.
With that thought, Carly rose to her feet.
She would go straight to the lockers, retrieve her cell phone, and text Christian an apology.
She hadn’t been as good at the whole “go with the flow” mindset of her surfer friends, especially since losing Ava, but she’d learned enough over the years that fighting against the current hadn’t done her any good.
Perhaps now that the tide was changing, Carly could learn to apply the advice to her life on land: catch that wave and enjoy the journey. An image of those dark eyes shot to her mind once more. With Gage Craven as her newest student, it was sure to be one heck of a ride.