Chapter Six
Brandee
I stand on the porch while my friends Erin and Jena unload their suitcases. I’m excited to have them here for the long weekend.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Erin asks as she pulls out another bag and sets it down next to the others.
I walk over to grab the smallest one. “Jeez, are you moving in or what? I didn’t bring this much luggage, and I’m staying for two months, you lunatics.”
“They’re all Jena’s, except for this one,” Erin says as she tosses a large duffel bag over her shoulder.
Jena shrugs and replies, “It’s the coast. I needed a bag for swimsuits, cover-ups, sun hats, and other provisions. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to dress, so I brought a little bit of everything.”
“We’re not going to be sunbathing and swimming in the ocean,” I say as I lead them to the house.
Jena’s mouth turns into a pout. “We’re not? Well, that sucks.”
“It’s November, and we’re on the coast of North Carolina, not the Caribbean,” Erin points out.
“Boo. I wanted some beach time. I haven’t seen the ocean in forever,” Jena mumbles.
“We can still go sit on the beach or the pier and enjoy the ocean. We’ll just be in leggings and sweatshirts,” I offer.
“I guess that’ll have to do,” she says.
Once we’re inside, I show them to the guest room. Earlier, I moved my belongings to Aunt Ida’s room in preparation for their arrival.
“There’s only one bathroom, and it’s across the hall,” I explain, pointing to the door. “The towels are in here,” I add, tapping the door of the linen closet.
Jena stops in the living room when she spots the cats watching us curiously. “And who do we have here?”
“Meet Snowflake and Felix,” I reply.
Snowflake stretches lazily on the arm of the couch. She lifts her head, gives a slow blink, and pads over, tail elegantly swishing behind her.
“She’s the semi-friendly one,” I say, kneeling down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s still upset her mom left but she’s coming around. She loves attention—as long as it’s on her terms.”
Erin crouches beside me. “She’s so pretty.”
“Yeah, she knows it.” I laugh. “Total diva.”
Then I point at the armchair in the corner. Felix sits perched like a moody prince, his golden eyes narrowed like we’ve insulted him just by breathing.
“And that,” I say, lowering my voice, “is Felix. He tolerates me. Barely.”
Jena waves cautiously. Felix flicks his tail once, unimpressed.
“He looks like he’s judging us,” Erin whispers.
“He is.”
They both laugh. Snowflake twirls between our legs, purring.
“Don’t be fooled though,” I add, glancing back at Felix. “He acts tough, but his affection can be temporarily purchased with treats.” I lead them to the kitchen. “Lemonade?”
“Yes,” they reply in unison.
“This place is so quaint,” Erin says as she looks out the bay window to the backyard, where a stone path leads to a floating deck.
“Is that the ocean?” Jena asks, glancing over her shoulder.
“No, it’s the Intracoastal Waterway. It’s an inland passage for boats to travel. The north side of the island backs up to it, and the south side faces the Atlantic,” I explain as I pour us each a glass from the pitcher of lemonade.
“Can you swim in it?” Jena asks.
Erin quickly turns her head. “What part of ‘it’s November’ don’t you understand?”
“I mean, when it’s warm,” Jena clarifies.
“I wouldn’t swim in it,” I say. “But when I was little and we visited, my cousins and I would paddleboard and ride WaveRunners. It was a lot of fun. I saw one of the WaveRunners in the garage. Maybe Aunt Ida will let us come back in the summer, and we can take it out.”
“I’d love that,” Jena says.
“So, what’s on the agenda for this weekend?” Erin asks.
“It’s late, so I thought we’d just make dinner here and relax tonight. Tomorrow, we can take the golf cart out to explore the island a bit. Avie, a neighbor who’s our age, wants to have us over for wine with her and some of her friends one night,” I say as I start ticking off the list.
“Sounds great. What are we making?” Jena asks as she opens the refrigerator.
“Tacos,” I reply.
“Margaritas?” Erin asks.
I reach for the bottle of tequila on the hutch beside the table. “You know it.”
The three of us settle in the living room with our margaritas after scarfing down an embarrassing amount of tacos and chips and salsa and cleaning the kitchen.
“So, did we decide on the date for Zoey’s shower yet?” I ask as I click the television on.
Zoey Phillips is a champion skier. She worked as the head ski instructor during the year Misty Mountain Ranch and Ski Area opened.
Now, she trains world-class athletes and Olympic hopefuls.
Zoey is engaged to Langford’s younger brother, Morris Tuttle, and their wedding is scheduled for this coming spring.
“Sara-Beth wants to do it in early February. Maybe the week of Valentine’s Day and do everything in red,” Erin says.
“Really? What did Zoey think?” I ask.
Erin shrugs. “She doesn’t really care. I think Momma Tuttle is just running out of fresh ideas at this point.”
“This is the sixth shower in what, four years?” Jena adds.
“At least it’s the last one we have to worry about,” I say.
Erin’s eyes snap to me. “Um, last I checked, you’re not hitched yet, so we have at least one more to go.”
I scoff. “I think we’re safe. It will be a while before that happens,” I say. “Or maybe never.”
“Why do you say that?” Jena asks.
I shrug. “Look at my track record. I don’t have the best taste in men.
I mean, Dave was a jerk. Eric had a cowlick, and every time I looked at him, that’s all I could see.
Jim had bad breath, and whenever he leaned in for a kiss, I would gag.
Sam made this annoying whistling sound when he slept, which kept me up all night. And then there’s Dean—”
“Stop,” Erin says, throwing her hand in my face. “You’re a lunatic.”
“I am not,” I screech.
“Please, are you listening to yourself? A cowlick? Really? Eric was handsome, had a good job and a nice truck, and owned his own home,” Jena chimes in.
“You’re just saying that because he works for your husband and you set us up.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m saying it because it’s true. He was a catch. You just find excuses to be annoyed so you can run them off for no good reason.”
“You’re a commitment-phobe. Admit it,” Erin says.
Am I? No. That can’t be true. I want a relationship. I envy the ones my friends have. So, why has it been so hard for me to find that special someone?
“What about Liam, who had panic attacks twice a day, and Brian, the workaholic with erectile dysfunction?” I ask.
“Okay. We’ll give you a pass on the guy who couldn’t get it up, but the rest, no. You need to lower your standards,” Jena says.
Erin instantly smacks her on the shoulder.
“Ouch. What was that for? I thought we were agreeing,” Jena says as she glares at her friend.
“We are agreeing that she needs to stop being crazy, but not that she should lower her standards. We don’t want her hitching her wagon to some felon or a Blue Devil.”
Jena gasps. “A Duke fan? No. We’d have to kick her out of the girl gang.”
“Okay, okay,” I say as I pour myself another margarita. “I get it. I’m the problem.”
“No, you’re the solution. You have to stop cutting guys off at the knees before giving them a real chance,” Erin says. “And we’re here to help. Consider this your intervention.”
“An intervention? No.”
“Yep. We’re taking you out this weekend. You’re gonna find yourself a hot beach boy toy to enjoy while you’re here, and then when you get home, we’re gonna find you a forever man.”
“You two are going to find me a man?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. We’re six for six.”
I raise an eyebrow. “No way. I’m the one who gave Isley a little shove into Langford’s arms, and same for Anna and Weston,” I point out.
“Okay, so maybe we can’t take credit for Anna and Weston, but we are taking credit for the other five finding their HEA with a Tuttle brother. Including Isley. You acted like Langford was the enemy,” Erin says.
“I was Isley’s campaign manager, and he was running against her,” I scoff.
“Exactly. You saw competition, and we saw possibility,” Jena says, then looks at Erin. “We should do this for a living.”
“I thought you said we should open our own private investigation company?”
Jena shrugs. “That’s right. Our motto could be, We help you shake off Mr. Wrong and land Mr. Right .”
Erin’s eyes go wide. “Oh, that’s good.”
I shake my head. No way am I letting these two find me anything. I’m not here to hook up; I’m here to chill out. Sandcastle Cove can keep its men and magic to itself.