Sweet Dreams (The Beach Squad Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Note From the Author

  Beach B!tch

  Sweet Dreams

  Marika Ray

  SWEET Dreams

  Copyright 2017 Marika Ray

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-0-9992981-0-7 (E-book Edition)

  978-0-9992981-1-4 (Print Edition)

  Major thanks to these fabulous ladies:

  Proofreader: Virginia Tesi Carey

  Cover Artist: Robin Harper, Wicked by Design

  Want a FREE novella about Bailey (the feisty best friend you’re about to meet)? Marika Ray is giving away a free novella to her Beach Squad readers group. Click here to get your copy!

  Dedication

  This first book of mine is dedicated to my ten-year-old daughter, without whom, this book would not exist. She helped me flesh out the basic story line, along with the main characters’ names. She never doubted that her mom would be a published author one day, even when my novel was just a story I rambled on about at bedtime while we snuggled.

  Sea otters for life, baby!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Note From the Author

  Beach B!tch

  1

  Present Day

  It was a busy Friday night at Freddie's, a popular Mexican restaurant right on Main Street with a view of the beach, and all the people were enjoying the pier view of the sunset. The music was thumping through the many speakers placed inside the bar and out on the deck. The lights were low, the beer was flowing, and the locals had come out in full force to celebrate the weekend. It was too early in the season for a rush of tourists, so I'd agreed to a night out after weeks of begging from Bailey, my roommate and best friend. If I were to make an appearance at Freddie's it would be before the craziness started. Last year, I made the mistake of coming here on July 3rd and the number of wasted guys was an immediate turn off. The three-way girl-on-girl tussle, complete with hair pulling, was interesting too.

  Tonight was definitely more tame and at least tolerable in my book. I was one beer into the evening, getting cozy with the tortilla chip bowl, when my roommate gave me the heads-up. "Esa, the dark-haired guy over there is totally checking you out, girlie," she said with minimal lip movement.

  "Ah shit, you know I'm not interested in any of that. Don't look at him," I answered her, shoving another salsa laden chip into my mouth.

  Of course, she made eye contact with him anyway, then smiled and tilted her head in my direction. "Oh, would you look at that, he's coming over here," she exclaimed, playfully shocked.

  If looks could kill, she would have incinerated on the spot. This was so not what I wanted.

  "Hey, can I buy you another beer?" dark-haired guy asked as he wedged in next to me. He wasn't bad looking but the fraternity guy smirk was not helping his case. Nor was the major waft of yeasty beer smell that came from his direction.

  "No, thanks, I'm good. In fact, I was going to hit the bathroom and then get out of here. Thanks anyway though," I responded, then grabbed my bag to leave the table. I didn't wait for his reply as I made my way to the bathroom down the hallway in the far corner. I didn't even feel guilty that I left my best friend to deal with him. She brought him over, she could get him to leave, right?

  Just as I reached the door to the women's, someone grabbed my elbow and pulled me back. I looked up into frat guy's determined face.

  "Ah come on, honey, you don't need to rush off like dat. You can a' least get to know me first, huh?" he slurred out. I wanted to wipe the sly grin off his face with a sharp comeback, but instead I took a deep breath and smoothed out my facial expression. He was intoxicated, who knew how mean he could get.

  "Listen. I'm not interested. Please let go of my arm," I said in my most stern voice.

  "Hey, that's not very nice. You don't need to be a bitch," he countered. Did he really think whining and then calling me a bitch would help him get laid? Red flags were flying left and right. This guy was bad news.

  Before I could get another word out, a tall, dark-haired guy walked by me, pushing his shoulder into drunk frat boy. The hand gripping my elbow dropped, and I used the opportunity to duck around them both and move back into the more populated bar area where my roommate was rushing up to find me. The two boys were now face to face in one of those weird macho showdowns guys do. Drunk guy eventually backed down and slunk away as he realized the other guy was taller, bigger, and less inebriated.

  My rescuer was off-the-charts hot in his lifeguard polo and red shorts, but I focused on his face when he asked if I was okay. I nodded yes. He jerked his chin up in the cool guy equivalent of nodding and walked away.

  And that my friends, was my cue to leave. This wasn't my scene. And I sure as shit wasn't looking for a guy. Drunk or gorgeous, it didn't matter. Time to go home.

  A Trip Down Memory Lane

  Have you ever had a person you'd trust with your very life? Someone who totally understood you, saw your crazy and not only didn't pass judgement, but liked your crazy? I know it's rare to find that connection with anyone, considering it's only happened once in my twenty-six years on this earth, which is why I absolutely adored my best friend and roommate Bailey.

  We met in high school when life is awkward and feelings are easily bruised. I first saw her when I entered my science class the first day of freshman year. She was ripping into some guy sitting next to her who had rolled his eyes at her outfit. The poor guy didn't even know what hit him when she verbally whipped him with her sassy comeback. He vacated the seat for friendlier pastures and I found myself taking his spot. I was drawn to her confidence, to her 'take no shit' attitude. And I wanted that for myself.

  You see, I was the quiet one. I observed people and situations more than I got involved in them. I wasn't the life of the party; hell, I wasn't even invited to the party. I wasn't an outcast or anything. I just wasn't noticed much, which was usually fine by me, but I wanted to turn things around in high school and live a little. I decided, right there on the spot, someone like Bailey was the perfect person to have by my side.

  "You got something to say about my kickass outfit too?" Bailey asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Realizing she was talking to me, I quickly reassured her. "Yeah, I do. I think you look great in it. And I like whatever you said to that jerk-off. Teach me how to do that."

  She stared at me for a moment, grinned and said, “All right. Here we go. Let's do this."

  And that was that. A budding friendship began, escalating quickly to Besties with a capital B. We were inseparable all four years of high school. Where she was flash and heat, I was cool and calm. When she dropped sass and attitude, I followed up with sunshine and steady determination. We were different in a lot of ways, except for our commitment to each other. We had each other's backs always, and we both had plans for our futures. We graduated high school and applied to the same colleges. Where one went, the other would too. And so we found ourselves at University of San Diego sharing a dorm on campus, her major Fashion Design, and mine Business.

  Those plans for our future took a serious hit when my parents were killed in a car accident on the I-405 in Long Beach when they were taking a random day trip to the Aquarium. I had a new reason to hate that freeway.

  Bailey and I were in our second year of college when it happened. I was in BioChem 2 when the police pulled me from class to deliver the news. I was in total shock when I texted Bailey to leave her English Lit class and find me. The police were still telling me the details of what happened when she burst into the hall and pulled me to her side, her arms holding me upright. I made the officers start over because Bailey needed to hear it too. They had loved her like their own daughter and she ate that love right up. This would crush us both.

  I didn't shed one tear till the next day. And then it was like I couldn't stop, my eyes leaking the heartache that seemed a new, permanent part of my life.

  Long story short, that was a really rough time. I completely fell apart and Bailey held me together. When I wanted to just drift away in my grief, give up on college, and go back home to Huntington Beach, Bailey wouldn't let me. She said all the right things, did all the right things, and got me in to see the college counselor on a regular basis.

  I eventually pulled through and I owe that to Bailey.

  She. Was. Solid.

  Junior ye
ar I met a fellow classmate named Rylan. He was charming, he was good looking, and he seemed totally into me. Day dreams of tall, dark, and handsome took over my days and made class fly by. He'd meet up with me in-between classes, take me to lunch at the school cafeteria, and help me study at my dorm. He was so attentive, I found myself slowly pulling away from Bailey and my other friends to spend more of my days and nights with him. He made my grieving, reluctant heart want to feel again.

  Unfortunately, once I trusted him, he seemed to change overnight. Gone was the sweet, in its place an underhanded monster dressed like my boyfriend. His digs were subtle enough not to ring any warning bells, but enough to damage my self-esteem. When I gathered the courage to call him on his bullshit, he would laugh it off, saying he was joking or I was simply making too much out of it.

  All the sass and confidence I emulated under Bailey's tutelage the last few years was quietly forgotten as I compromised myself for him. I’d felt adrift since my parents died. Add in my quiet nature, along with my limited dating experience, and that all combined to leave me vulnerable. And he totally capitalized on that for a few long, confusing months.

  Bailey finally intervened and made me see the light. I broke up with Rylan, and he ended up dropping out of school when months went by and I refused to speak to him. With him gone, I could focus back on school and building the life I wanted for myself. No more assholes, no more allowing life to happen to me. I was ready to kick some ass and build my dream life.

  The anger over his emotional abuse, and the grief over my parents, shifted forms over time, but didn't lessen in intensity. All that emotion was funneled into school, planning for my business, and studiously avoiding men at all costs.

  When we finally graduated from college, Bailey was looking for a job as a personal shopper at a high-end retailer. As a best friend would, I knew I had to help her attain her dream. So, I cashed out the last of my parents’ life insurance money and hatched a brilliant scheme. Don't freak out on me, I used the life insurance money wisely to pay for my college education. I was always responsible with my finances, but I was due a little play time and as a double bonus, I could help Bailey.

  We researched the hiring manager at Nordstrom at Fashion Island, cased the place to know when she worked, and then sprang into action. On a Tuesday afternoon, Bailey strutted through the second level of Nordie's looking fabulous in her typical style. She was classically beautiful with her dark smooth skin, tall with legs that went on forever, big, curly hair, and bright smile. She added her own spin on cool with her accessories, creating a look that exuded confidence and an energy that made you want to be around her.

  As all eyes tracked her movement through the racks, she grabbed a top, a pair of pants, and a scarf, assembling them into a makeshift outfit right on the rack. I casually walked by, stopped, backtracked, and began the show.

  "Oh my God! That looks so beautiful! Do you think that would work on my body type?" I asked with obvious excitement.

  Bailey turned to me, flashed a smile, and said, "For sure it would work on you! Let's change the scarf out for a cooler color, but other than that, this outfit looks like it was made for you. Want to try it on?"

  “Heck, yeah I do! I'm so glad I ran right into you. Nordstrom is so good with having their personal shoppers out on the floor helping us fashion impaired people," I went on gushing.

  "Oh no, honey, I don't work here. I just love fashion and dressing women so they feel confident in their clothes," Bailey said with convincing passion. And it was true. That's why she spent four years getting her degree in fashion.

  We took the party to the fitting rooms and two hours later I walked out with five complete outfits, shoes, accessories, and undergarments included. This spending spree did not go unnoticed by the Nordstrom employees. After I sashayed out with my haul, Bailey was approached by our target, the hiring boss, and offered a job on the spot. I wasn't surprised, and I certainly didn't feel bad about our scheme. Those outfits kicked ass and I couldn't wait to wear them as I realized my own dream: owning a business in Surf City, USA.

  For as long as I could remember, I've loved hot chocolate. Not like normal little kids like it. It wasn't just the whipped cream, or the chocolaty taste, or the fact that it was a warm, cozy drink. I was flat out obsessed with it. I'd made thousands of cups of hot chocolate, slowly perfecting my recipes. Yes, recipes plural, upwards of fifty. My friends and family got tired of always having to taste my recipes but my mom encouraged me to keep doing it. No Starbucks coffee runs for me as a college student. I wanted quality hot chocolate that only I could make at home.

  My chocolate obsession took a brief hiatus when I was dating Rylan since he thought I was getting a little too curvy because of all the chocolate. I mean really, I should have seen the red flag for what it was; any man who tries to separate a woman from her chocolate is flat out insane.

  I planned to open a shop when I was out of college and my mom would help me run it. She'd do the website and the cash register, I'd handle the menu offerings and choose the shop decor. In a grand departure from the plan, she died before that could happen. But my chocolate dreams didn't.

  Since I used the last of my savings to pay off my college education and kick start Bailey's personal shopper dreams, I worked part-time at a local bakery to save up the cash needed to start my shop. It took me almost six months, but I was finally ready. There was a new retail shopping center, Pacific City, being built right on Pacific Coast Highway, or PCH as the locals called it. High end shops were committing to retail space in the new center and I wanted in. This would be the place to shop, eat, and once the condos were built behind it, hang out with a warm cup of gourmet hot chocolate. If determination and heart were enough to keep a company afloat, there was no doubt mine would thrive.

  My only hurdle was a middle-aged man on the committee that tried to block me from renting space. He felt that as a young woman untested in the business world, I was not a good fit for Pacific City and should settle for elsewhere. He was quite vocal about his dislike for me and my business idea. I'm not sure what I ever did to piss him off, but damn, that guy had it in for me. I had to work that much harder by going around him and pleading my case to the head honcho of the management company, before I was finally granted a rental space.

  The work was worth it as the space was perfect. All white decor with pops of black and dusty pink. My shop name, 'Chocolate Dreams' was proudly posted on the outside awning, on the large front window, and on the old-fashioned chalk menu board behind the long white counter. A glass case sat next to the counter, filled with bakery items to complement the hot chocolate varieties. Lastly, a long window on the back wall gave a picture-perfect view of the ocean. Wherever my eye looked, it found delight. Which was by design. I wanted my customers’ senses bombarded, in a good way, when they entered my shop.

  We officially opened over the holidays with my peppermint hot chocolate being a best seller. Nothing like a hint of peppermint chocolate, thick homemade whipped cream topped with mint shavings to make your mouth happy when it was cold and rainy outside. Of course, salted caramel hot chocolate, mocha chip hot chocolate, and marshmallow dream hot chocolate were popular choices too. Mouth orgasms were guaranteed, and I was seriously considering making that my official slogan. Sorry mom.

  Sales continued to be good through the first of the year. Bailey was loving her job outfitting the high-end population of Newport Beach. The ex-boyfriend and his abuse were history. I lived the beach life in sunny California. Life was comfortable. A little lonely, but steady.

  What I still hadn't learned was that you couldn't control what life threw at you. When you least expected it, you can get the best, and sometimes, the worst things in life thrown at you.