Chapter six #2
“Agreed. I swear, I could lick his and I think I’d have an orgasm just from that alone.
” We share a hearty laugh. “But he acted so self-righteous that my attraction was flipped off as fast as you flick a light switch. Don’t get me wrong, it took a lot of balls to make me that offer, I’ll give him that.
But the look on his face when I told him I wouldn’t sell the house to him because he didn’t say please made me more than pleased with myself. ”
Shauna laughs. “Well, now you know what he wants, so I say you use that to your advantage.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, staring at the wall in front of me. “I want to screw him and punch him in his pretty face at the same time. That can’t be a good sign.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it is a sign that you’ll be facing some choices in the next few months, Willow, and maybe even a few that will benefit your vagina.” We share a laugh again. “But the real question is, are you willing to choose what you really want, not just what you think is safe?”
I wish I could give her an answer.
***
“Don’t stress.” Katrina rests her hands on my shoulders as we stand in my office back at Marshall Advertising.
“Easier said than done.”
“Willow, I’m telling you. Everything will be fine. Natalie is more than capable of managing things while you’re gone.”
Natalie is my VP of marketing, and she was one of the best employees I hired when I started my agency. She started at the bottom and worked her way up, holding as much pride in the company as I do.
“I know, and it’s not like I won’t be involved still. It’s just hard…”
“To give up control?” Katrina finishes for me as I roll my eyes. She flashes me a reassuring smile. “I know, but you deserve this. You’ve never taken a vacation.”
“That’s not true. I took some time for both of Shauna’s weddings,” I counter.
“That was like four days total and you were still glued to your phone the entire time. This time, I swear, I’m only going to contact you if it’s absolutely necessary.” She holds her hand up like she’s making a pledge to me.
My skin nearly breaks out in hives. But my assistant is right. If I’m going to do this, I need to take advantage of the trip. Relaxing is going to be difficult, but I will make an effort to let my mind rest.
Easier said than done, obviously.
My shoulders finally drop a bit. “I appreciate you. I hope you know that.”
Katrina smiles. “I know you do. And when you’re back, I’m going to take my hard-earned vacation.”
Chuckling, I say, “You’ve got it.”
With one final hug, I leave my office and make the rounds through the building, making sure to speak to each one of my employees before I leave.
One thing I pride myself on is the culture I’ve created with my staff.
I make it a point that they know I’m not just their boss, but their mentor, the person behind the name on the door and the one who is invested the most in our success—success that doesn’t happen without their hard work.
When I finally exit the building, I settle into my car and start the drive back to Carrington Cove, my brimming suitcases situated in the back of my Tesla, along with my patience, as I sit in Friday traffic for hours.
But as soon as the lights of Carrington Cove fill my windshield, I roll down the window and breathe in the salty sea air from the driver’s seat.
Just one inhale has my shoulders relaxing and my lungs expanding in comfort, a detail that I choose not to acknowledge, or I’ll freak myself out again.
Earlier this week as I made arrangements with my company for my extended absence and let my apartment building supervisor know I’d be gone for a few months, anxiety bloomed in my body when I realized that a part of me was apprehensive to return to the beach house.
Not just because the sooner I did, the sooner the work could be completed.
No.
It was the idea that the sunrise and sunsets over the ocean were waiting for me on the balcony of the master bedroom.
It was the idea that I could fulfill my craving for blueberry muffins from the Sunshine Bakery and coffee from Keely’s.
And it was this new feeling, wondering about what would happen at the end of this trip, that had me itching to drive back on Friday evening, feeling completely different upon my return than I did the first time I came down here a week ago.
***
Walking into Catch & Release, I inhale the smell of fried food and burgers. I figured I might as well start this trip off with another martini, even if the bartender was far from welcoming. At least he could pour one hell of a drink.
The same stool I sat on last week is free, so I sashay over in my heels and navy A-line dress, taking a seat as a familiar face flies past me.
“Hey! I know you.” Astrid points a finger at me as she hurries by.
A smile instantly graces my lips. “And I know you.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were only in town for a few days last week.” She drops a serving tray on the counter and stands before me a second later, brushing her hair from her face.
Sighing, I say, “Well, it seems I have to stick around for just a little while longer.”
Her head tilts to the side. “How come?”
“Hey, Willow.” Penn slides up behind Astrid, reaching underneath the bar for a few glasses before I can answer her.
“You know Willow?” Astrid turns to him, a pinch in her brow.
Penn nods. “She owns the Bayshore House now. I’m helping her with the renovations.”
Her eyes widen in recognition and a knowing smile follows. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”
Penn chuckles. “It sure is.”
“Standing room only tonight, and here you two are, just standing. I could use some help out here.”
That voice.
I don’t even have to look in that direction to know who it belongs to.
“Calm your nuts, Dallas,” Astrid fires back as she rolls her eyes and grabs her tray again. “I was just saying hello to my friend here.” She gestures in my direction, which has his gaze drifting my way.
And when it locks onto mine, the same rage from Monday comes barreling back into me, followed by an inconvenient spark of lust.
Dallas—so that’s the man’s name. He stares at me with narrowed eyes, clad in a black polo shirt and dark-wash jeans. His beard is trimmed to perfection, his hair freshly cut as well, and his eyes are dark and menacing as they stare down at me, brimming with frustration and annoyance at my presence.
Well, the feeling is mutual pal, even though my vagina apparently hasn’t received that message.
“Dude. You look fucking psycho right now.” Penn shoves Dallas’s shoulder before he places two margaritas on Astrid’s tray. “This is Willow by the way,” he says, motioning toward me.
“Oh, we’ve met.”
Penn chuckles and Astrid hides a snort as my eyes bounce between the three of them.
“Oh yes. Dallas, it’s such a pleasure, as always,” I reply sarcastically.
Penn full-blown laughs this time, shaking his head as he moves around Dallas and reaches for a dish towel from a bucket. “Shit, brother. She’s got your number already.”
“Wait. This man is your brother?” I say, a little too loudly.
“Is that a problem?” Dallas asks, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing attention to the muscles in his upper body and the veins in his forearms. The man should be a walking advertisement for arm porn, and I hate that I’m thinking about that right now.
I clear my throat and lean back in my seat, flicking my finger back and forth between them. “Oh, not at all. I just don’t understand how you two could be related.”
Astrid throws her head back in laughter. “Oh, just hang around here a while longer, and you’ll realize just how alike these two are.” She pats the bar in front of me. “It was good to see you, Willow. Will I be seeing you in the morning?” She winks at me, so I’m sure she’s referring to the bakery.
“Oh, definitely. I need my fix.”
With a nod and a smile, she takes off to deliver her drinks, leaving me with the Beast and his brother.
Penn turns his attention back to me. “What can I make for you?”
“I’ll have a…”
“Martini with three olives,” Dallas finishes for me, shoving his brother out of the way. “I’ve got it. Go help out Brian.”
Penn smirks in my direction, shaking his head at his brother before walking away. Dallas lowers his gaze to the bar well as he begins making my drink.
“I don’t know if I trust you to make my drink after what happened on Monday,” I quip as he moves with ease in front of me.
“Contrary to what you might think of me, poisoning my customers isn’t part of my business model.” he replies dryly, skewering three olives and dropping them into the glass before sliding it along the bar toward me.
“Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth tips up as he crosses his arms again. “You’re welcome. Looks like you’ve found your manners.”
I scoff, reaching for my drink. “Oh, I’ve always had manners. I just reserve them for people who are deserving.”
His smile grows and his stare becomes more intense. “Well then, I’ll take those words as a compliment.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes as he clears his throat. “So, I take it you’re back in town for a while?”
Squinting at him, I take a sip of my martini. Damn. Of course it’s perfect. “I am.”
“Then I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, won’t we?” One of his dark eyebrows arches.
“Not if I can help it,” I tease, more playfully than I intended.
But there is something about verbally sparring with this guy that is making my heart flutter.
And the longer I talk to him, the more I get to stare at his stupid face, those stupid lips, and that stupid beard that are making me feel stupid inside.
This is not good.
“Well, then I guess you won’t be needing my help with the geese after all.” The snark in his voice brings me back to the present.
Fuck. The damn birds. I’ve forgotten all about them. “Ummm…”
“No. It’s probably best this way, right?
You don’t trust me. Who knows if I would be giving you accurate information anyway?
” Unfortunately, a small growl climbs up my throat and Dallas catches it, laughing at the sound.
He taps the bar in front of me before saying, “Good luck, Willow. You’re going to need it.
” And then he walks off, leaving me to stare at his beautiful backside as he does.
Not wanting to get caught, I shift my focus around the bar, watching Astrid wait tables, Penn help clear dishes, and other employees smile and assist other customers as I fight with my own willpower not to strangle Dallas and the notion that maybe part of me is happy to be back more than I care to admit.
There’s a familiarity here, a sense of community that, before this trip, scared the living shit out of me.
But maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to be in a place where people know you by name, remember your favorite drink, and are eager to help make you feel at home.
As long as you can make sure to separate business from much needed pleasure—the kind I feel a man like Dallas could definitely deliver.