Say You’re Mine (Amada Beach #3)

Prologue

Liam

Three months ago…

With a deep sigh, I drop my head into my hands and try to calm my breathing before looking back to my uncle. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen Uncle Stanley and his family, but age has started to wear on him.

We look similar enough that I could be his kid, rather than nephew.

We have the same sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, unlike his own children who take after their mother’s darker hair and eyes.

There are new sunspots on his cheeks and the lines around his eyes are deeper, visible when his smile isn’t.

Most concerning is how the hollow of his cheeks are a little more pronounced, and the newfound rasp to his voice—the one that somehow never plagued him in all the years of smoking cigarettes.

“Dad,” Lucas, my business attorney and cousin, treads lightly, “how much has your health declined recently?”

The pain in Lucas’s voices is clear, mimicking what I currently feel in my own chest. Out of all the reasons I could have been called to Southern California, I never expected it to be for this.

Uncle Stanley shakes his head at a loss for words. “It’s nothing I need you boys, or any of your sisters, worrying about.”

Lucas and I are the only boys out of the cousins, but his sister Mia is the oldest of all seven of us.

She’s not going to be happy about this.

None of us are.

Father and son stare down at each other, waiting for the other to break first. There’s fire burning in Lucas’s soil-brown eyes but it isn’t melting the icy hardness of Stanley’s. Both are stubborn as hell, so we could be here all day.

“Be honest with us,” I cut in. His gaze slowly slides to mine. “Please.”

He lets out a deep sigh and folds his arms on the table in front of himself.

“You both know I was diagnosed with coronary artery disease a few years back.” We both nod silently, suddenly feeling like young boys in the face of reality.

“The stress of the job, and all those years of smoking when Willa begged me to stop, have finally caught up with me. I need to step back.”

“Did something happen?” Lucas asks.

It seems unlikely that Stanley could have a huge health scare without his children finding out. Lucas and Mia live in Amada Beach and work at their mom’s law practice, preparing to take it over soon.

Looking back at my uncle, I wonder if they’ve noticed the changes in him—if they see the evidence of time across each inch of his light complexion. Or are they too close to him? They see him so often that they’ve missed these changes as they happened gradually?

“Nothing has happened but the doctors are concerned about it progressing. I have an unstable angina, which has been causing some worrisome pain in my chest.” At the shock on our faces, he adds, “The doctors are confident that I have a few good decades left in me but only if something changes. Soon.”

He holds eye contact with me, so many silent questions swimming behind the deep blue irises that mirror my own. He’s worried I’ll change my mind, that it’s too soon and I’m not ready to leave Portland five years before planned.

I ended my engagement over a year ago, so there’s nothing holding me back anymore. Even if there were, it wouldn’t stop me now—not when it comes to Uncle Stanley’s health.

I don’t give a fuck about changing the plan my life has revolved around—I’ve learned to not grow too attached to anything that isn’t concrete. What I do care about is my family.

Setting my elbows on the table and dropping my forehead onto my knuckles, I shake my head and tell my uncle, “Of course I’m not going to walk away from this. And if your heart condition is getting worse, I want to be close by.”

Lucas lets out a deep, relieved sigh from next to me. I’m only a year older than him, and distance has never torn us apart. I need to be here for him too.

“Take time to think about it,” Stanley encourages.

Straightening my spine, I firmly promise, “I don’t need to think about it. I can be out here in three months.”

His head rears back in surprise. “That soon?”

I nod. “That soon.”

Silence falls around us as we let the reality of the situation sink in for a much needed moment.

The rest of our (first of many) meetings wraps up in fifteen minutes. Stanley’s quick out the door, and neither of us gets in his way. He needs some time to lick his wounds—it must be hard for a man as proud as Stanley—and I’m willing to offer him until the end of May, when I move to Amada Beach.

As Lucas locks up his office, he glances over his shoulder. “Do you want to come for dinner? I think it might just be pizza tonight but…” he shrugs, as if that’s answer enough. From the content look on his face, it is.

“No, thanks,” I tiredly say. “I’m going back to the hotel. My flight is early as hell tomorrow.”

He assesses me, concern flitting across his features. “See you soon? I’ll send you the contract to look over before anything is signed.”

“That’s fine, Lucas. I trust you.”

He smiles and nods resolutely. With a quick hug goodbye, I drive up the coast to The Siren’s Ledger, the small, boutique hotel I’m staying at in La Jolla. On my way through the lobby, I figure it’s early enough to grab a quick bite and a drink.

God knows I need it.

Calypso

Leaning back, I take another sip of my whiskey sour and contemplate my options.

There’s a handsome brunette man on the other end of the bar who arrived an hour ago, not long after me.

He’s been more focused on the basketball game on the TV than his surroundings, though.

I’m not interested in fighting for a man’s attention, especially when I can’t guarantee the sex would be worth the effort.

Another man in a booth with a group of friends has caught my attention a few times as well. Glancing over my shoulder again, I take him in. Even sitting, he seems tall. He has a deep brown complexion with short locs and broad shoulders.

When he catches me staring, I smile invitingly. He chuckles and shakes his head. It’s friendly, maybe even a little shy, but when he waves with his left hand it makes sense. The gold ring is bright, catching the low lighting. I tip my drink to him and turn back around.

I appreciate honesty and loyalty at least. Even if it does nothing to help my mission for the night.

Looking around the lounge of the Siren’s Cove again, I let out a deep sigh.

There are a variety of men to choose from—just none I’m interested in.

Too many pretty boys raised on Daddy’s credit card or finance bros who radiate condescension.

Worst of all are the men who hide, rather than flaunt, their wedding rings.

This silly tradition started five years ago.

Since the day my divorce was finalized, I’ve made it a point to go out on the anniversary and meet a man with more potential to make me come than my ex-husband ever had.

Most years have been successful, but that’s giving mediocre men too much credit.

I have to take a lot of the work into my own hands to really get myself there.

There’s something different this year—I just haven’t figured it out yet. I’m torn between feeling like I should be here and going home to call the entire thing off.

So far, it seems like it’s going to be a bust, but the local hotel I’m at has one of the best cocktail and dessert menus. I’m biased, though.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I’m about to finish off my drink when a large body settles in the seat directly next to me. Side-eyeing him, I try to take him in without turning my head.

He grabs the seat of his stool and slides it closer. I back away and raise a hand to the bartender. It’s a busy night, but she nods and gives me a wide-eyed, apologetic look.

It’s not her fault that a random man is breathing down my neck and saying, “Hi.”

Closing my eyes to fight off a sneer, I don’t reply and sit up straighter, taking the last gulp and doing my best to ignore him.

“I said hi,” he says, louder.

“And I ignored you.” My voice is cold, uninterested.

If he had made a different impression, he’d be classically handsome.

Not my type, necessarily. His bleach blonde hair and crewneck are a little too J.

Crew for my own liking, and I know that for a fact after being married to a man who shopped there often.

He could have been enough for the night, until the feeling of his rancid breath on my skin made me nauseous.

Yeah, four years was a great streak but I think it’s time to end the tradition.

“You don’t have to be a bitch,” he says in a pissed off tone that he tries to infuse with humor. It’s one I’m more than familiar with. “I’m just trying to buy you a drink.”

“And I’m done for the night.” I rifle through my small purse, hoping there’s a twenty that will magically appear.

He turns as if he’s going to stand and pulls out his wallet. “Perfect, I’ll go with you.”

Slowly, my head moves in his direction and I swear fire is burning in my eyes.

This presumptuous douchebag.

I open my mouth to call him exactly that when another hand slaps the counter between us. A deep, gravelly sound breaks some of the tension. When I turn my head, I realize it’s a man clearing his throat and giving the creep a deadly glare.

Now this man… This man is exactly my type.

I openly give him a quick, appreciative once-over despite the current situation.

He’s at least four inches taller than me, and considering I’m five foot ten, that’s a good height.

He has sandy blonde hair with well-trimmed facial hair.

There’s a deep churning in his bright blue eyes the longer he stares.

I can’t help but notice the arm he placed in front of me, artfully covered in a pretty floral design.

Finally, his eyes move to me and soften the slightest bit. “Sorry, I’m late.”

I almost snort at the cliché, but now that I’ve had a second to breathe, I want to avoid the scene I was about to make.

“Figured I’d meet you in our room,” I go along with it.

His brow flicks up and he licks his lips. From my angle, I can see him biting back a smile, but I wonder what it looks like from the creep’s perspective. If it looks as heated as my skin suddenly feels.

The annoying stranger raises his hands in a surrender motion. “She didn’t say she had a man. Sorry, dude.” He shrugs as if to say, women.

“A woman’s disinterest should be enough,” the hot stranger says, making me fold my lips between my teeth to hide a smile.

The whole damsel in distress thing isn’t usually my forte, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t enjoying the show a little.

Before anyone can say anything else, one of the hotel’s security guards comes up and slaps a hand on the creep’s shoulder.

“I’m going to need you to leave, sir,” he says calmly but firmly.

The stranger scoffs, “There’s no problem here, and I’m a guest.”

“The front desk got a call about someone harassing other guests. I need you to leave the bar area.” The security guard pushes his shoulder after a second, silently telling him to move.

The guy finally says, “Fuck this,” and walks out without another look back.

“What a prick,” the new stranger says, falling into the now empty seat. He pushes the chair a couple inches back, giving me my personal space back. I tentatively take mine again, sitting on the edge in case I decide to make a quick exit.

Crossing my arms, I tilt my chin up. “I didn’t need you to save me or something stupid like that.”

“Oh, trust me,” he says and chuckles. “I have four sisters. I know the difference between ‘in need of help’ and ‘less than a minute away from being arrested.’ And let’s be honest,” he says with a charming smirk and lets his eyes rove down my body before meeting my gaze.

“No one in that jail deserves to see you in that pretty red dress.”

I twist my lips to the side.

He’s right.

I look way too hot in this red mini dress to spend the night waiting for one of my siblings to bail me out—most likely my younger brother, Asher.

“And,” I slowly draw out, “You think you do?”

He licks his lips again and the temperature jumps up at least ten degrees in response. Instead of answering, he shrugs with a teasing grin.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the bartender calls as she walks up. I swallow and reluctantly look away from him. “I figured I’d call security before bringing the check.”

“That’s okay, Val.” I know most of the kitchen and bar staff. “It’s better he was escorted out, or it would have been someone else.”

“Next one on the house?” she asks, her eyes glancing at the man next to me. “Or next time?”

I feel his head turn toward me and try to hide a snort at how that sounds, like I’m a regular alone at the bar.

“I’ll take it now,” I say with a small smile and sit back.

She grabs a rocks glass and eyes the man.

“Just an Old Fashioned, please…” he trails off and grabs the menu as Val is inputting his order into the tablet. “And a lemon posset. May as well after the day I’ve had.”

The young bartender offers him a polite, sympathetic smile before walking away.

She’s just out of earshot when I let out a low scoff. I don’t mean to but it’s basically criminal to order the lemon posset with an Old Fashioned. Especially when the menu he was holding includes the correct pairing.

Slowly, his head turns in my direction as a grin tugs on his lips. “Excuse me?”

Rolling my eyes, I mindlessly spin the glass on the counter and shake my head.

“Nothing.” He nods, the expression morphing to one of confusion.

As he’s about to turn away, I can’t help but try to push this stranger’s buttons.

“Your drink choice was horrible. I guess it was your dessert choice, since you ordered that second. Either way, it was wrong.”

“What are you? Some sort of dessert expert?” Amusement lights his features.

With a low snicker, I shrug. “Something like that, but I do know how to read a menu.” Quickly flipping through the one in front of me, I push it toward him and point to the listing.

Twisting his lips to the side, he admits, “I took that as a suggestion.”

“You’ll regret that choice.”

He eyes me, clearly enjoying the banter. “What would you recommend then?”

The bartender comes back with his drink and I lean forward to grab her attention. “Hey, can you add an order of the burnt orange crème br?lée please?”

Chuckling, she nods and walks away, tapping in the order. When I turn back to the stranger, his brows are lifted. “You just happened to be drinking the right one for the lemon posset?”

“Lucky you. At least you got the type of liquor right.”

“Does that count for something?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

I cross my legs, feeling smug. “No.”

After a second, the surprise wears off and he laughs. “Okay, you’re right. Don’t let me off that easily.” He raises his hands in faux surrender. “Teach me something new tonight.”

“That’s the plan,” I practically purr as I slide my drink toward me.

My original plans for the night come back into focus, and I abandon the idea of leaving here alone when going a few floors up sounds much more enticing.