Chapter five #2
I was disappointed, especially because I knew if I’d just had the chance to talk to the owner, I probably could have convinced them to sell. Instead, I’ve been biding my time, ready to make my move if the opportunity arises.
And my brother freaking knew about this and didn’t tell me.
“Did you at least tell them I’m interested in the house?”
He scoffs. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t think the owner is going to want to sell it to you.”
“Why not?”
He grins mischievously, and I instantly want to punch him in the face. “Just a hunch.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I consider his response. “What aren’t you telling me?”
With a pat on my shoulder, he begins to walk away. “Just think of this as payback for all of the shit you give me about Astrid.”
“Penn!” I call after him before he gets too far.
“Yeah?”
“Brandon’s been gone for four years. It’s okay for you and Astrid to move forward.”
His head hangs as soon as I remind him of why he doesn’t act on his feelings for her. “Believe me, I know how long it’s been, Dallas. And that’s exactly why things have to stay the way they are.” Then he heads back inside, and I'm left standing there turning over his words in my mind.
I’ve never felt so stuck in my life. And sounds like I’m not the only one. Hell, I bet all of my siblings also feel stuck in the rotation of this earth. Life has held us in place for the past year, and I’m not sure how to move on.
For me, buying the Bayshore house could be the key. Twelve years in the service has shaped me into a man that doesn’t give up, but life outside of that structure is far too unsettling sometimes. There’s a reason why so many vets have a difficult time adjusting to civilian life.
But I was hellbent on not letting that be me.
And even though I heard Penn’s warning, it only makes me more curious about the new owner of the house that I want more than anything—the house that will help solidify for me that all of my sacrifice and hard work were worth it.
Plus, I think Penn is full of shit. I’m a charming, friendly guy with a commanding presence I know how to use when I need to.
I bet I could talk to the owner and convince them to sell the house to me, save their money and let me do the renovations myself, or have Penn help me if he needs the work. So basically, everybody wins.
Pleased with my newfound determination, I go back inside the house and then spend the rest of the night with my family, absorbing the moments when we all get to be together because they are becoming fewer and farther between, even though the wheels are spinning in my head, formulating my plan to get the house I’ve always wanted, once and for all.
***
The next day, I go through the Monday morning delivery at the restaurant, checking in every item and helping Trent, one of my employees, put things away.
By mid-afternoon, the cooks arrive to begin prepping food for the dinner service.
We open at four Monday through Thursday, and at eleven on the weekends since tourists start rolling in as soon as Friday hits.
By the time the cooks arrive, I leave Brian, my other manager, in charge and fire up my Mustang, heading to speak with the owner of the Bayshore house since time is of the essence.
Penn mentioned the owner would be there today, though he didn’t specify when. If they’re there still, maybe he can help persuade the new owner to give me a chance to take the house and all its problems off their hands.
As I cruise down the road with the top down, I contemplate all the reasons I could give to help convince the owner.
First off, I have the money for a hefty down payment.
Second, as a successful business owner, qualifying for the loan won’t be an issue.
Third, it’s so much more than just a house to me.
It’s a piece of home; a familiar and comforting presence throughout my life.
I figure a little bit of my backstory can’t hurt.
But if none of that works, then I’ll resort to extreme measures.
I’ll fucking beg.
As I pull up to the house, I spot a Tesla parked in the driveway—definitely not a local. If someone in town had bought one, it would’ve been the talk of the town.
The obvious wealth doesn’t bode well for me and my cause, but I owe it to myself to at least try.
The slam of my car door reverberates, along with the crunch of the gravel underfoot as I make my way to the front of the house.
As I come around the bend, the sight of the ocean stops me dead in my tracks.
Damn, I forgot how beautiful this is. It’s been months since I’ve been by, but just seeing this view—the potential view from my own front yard—makes me more determined to turn my dream into a reality.
With renewed purpose, I trek through the sand along the bushes that line the sides of the property and separate it from the neighbors. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight I encounter as I come around the front of the house.
A woman is walking backward up the front porch steps, waving an umbrella in front of her as she yells at a gaggle of geese. Nearly ten of them are gathered just a few feet from her, honking obnoxiously in protest as she wields the umbrella like a weapon to fend them off.
“Go! Get!” she yells, but there’s something familiar about that voice that makes me pause. And the longer I watch her, the stronger the sense of déjà vu becomes.
“Back up!” She lunges forward as the geese squawk and jump backward, only to move forward again once she runs to the door, keeping the umbrella behind her as a shield.
Once I snap out of my daze, I figure I might as well lend a hand. As amusing as the sight is, she seems genuinely scared. “Need some help?”
Her head snaps up, and when our eyes lock, my stomach plummets.
It’s her—the blonde from the bar.
She still looks uptight, although the gaggle of geese might be partly to blame.
“You!” she spits out, disdain lacing her words.
“Me?” I retort with just as much conviction. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She twists and lunges toward the geese with the umbrella again, huffing in frustration. “Well, currently I’m trying to get inside my house, but as you can see, these geese seem to have an agenda of making my life a living hell.”
My house.
Did I just hear her correctly?
“This is your house?”
“Jesus Christ! Get away!” She rushes the geese as their honking rings out and they scurry away from the house. She smiles triumphantly, but in a flash, she rushes toward her door again and struggles with the knob. “Stupid doorknob.”
“Fuck,” I mutter for a multitude of reasons before my feet carry me toward her, slapping her hand out of the way and then pushing the door open with brute force.
“Oh my God.” She runs inside the house and moves to slam the door in my face, but I stop it with my hand before she can.
“No, thank you.”
She glares at me through the crack in the door. “Again with the manners?”
“Well, I did just help you escape the geese and get your door open.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she fires back, glaring at me through the crack in the door.
“Then perhaps I’ll just keep the secret to getting rid of them to myself.” I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I actually have no clue how to deter the geese. But hell, it can’t be that hard.
“You know how to get rid of them?”
“When you live around them for most of your life, you pick up a few tricks.” I shrug, feigning confidence.
She hesitates, considering my offer as our eyes lock through the gap in the door. Just then, the honking grows closer. I twist around to see the geese have gathered and are hellbent on trying to make their way up the steps again.
“Are you going to leave me out here to fend for myself?” I ask as I turn back to her.
“Why are you even here?” She narrows the gap in the door even further.
Panic builds in my chest as I see the opportunity I came here for slipping away. This might be my only shot at asking her directly about the house. Despite this woman being rude and clearly out of her element, I can’t miss this chance to discuss my proposition.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Me?”
“HONK!” The geese call grows louder as I spin my head back and forth between her and the birds.
“Can we talk inside, please?” The pleading in my voice is not something I’m proud of, but truth be told, I’m getting a little concerned about the determination of these fucking geese.
She huffs loudly, but then quickly pulls open the door. “Hurry up!”
I scurry inside just as she slams the door behind me, locking it for good measure. “I swear, those birds are predatory.”
“Nah. They’re probably just hungry, or not used to seeing someone here,” I say just as my eyes take in the entirety of the woman standing before me, and I allow myself to do so blatantly.
She’s not as dressed up as she was the other night, but even though she traded the heels for flats, she still looks all business.
Black polyester capris cover her long legs that I still remember vividly from Friday night, and a lavender blouse covers her torso.
Her hair is back in the same bun as before, pulling her face tight and adding to her cold demeanor even more as her brown eyes stare at me.
But her lips—they’re bare this time, the softest pink that makes me lock onto them for an unknown length of time. I see them move, but don’t register the words coming out of them.
“Hello?” she says, fanning one of her hands in front of my face.
Shaking my head, I pull myself together. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said what are you doing here?”
“Oh. Well, I guess I could ask the same of you…”
What the hell are you doing, Dallas?
You should be buttering this woman up instead of acting like an ass.
She crosses her arms over her chest and pops her hip out to the side. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Maybe not, but Carrington Cove is. And you made it pretty damn clear this little town is the last place you want to be. So what’s changed?”