Beach Bum Billion-Heiress (The Beach Squad Series Book 4) Page 2

  But a non-bra-wearing hippie in a vintage Bug she couldn't drive for shit got my attention. Coffee stains long forgotten, I wondered who she was and how I could find her again. The nipples might have gotten my attention since I was, in fact, a warm-blooded male, but it was the whole package that pole-axed me. The braids, the restored old car, the oversized white-rimmed sunglasses, the carefree laugh, the gesture of apology.

  Then I shook my head and laughed at myself. I seriously needed to get laid if I was obsessing over a half second exchange with a girl I'd never met before and would likely never see again. That I understood. I hadn't dated anyone in forever, so it made sense I was acting like a total love-sick sap.

  After my last girlfriend, I had no interest in getting serious with anyone for a long while. Besides, between my lifeguarding job and trying to keep The Shack afloat, I was tapped out. Any bed time was strictly for sleeping. Any leftover energy was used up doing repairs on The Shack that I didn't have the money to hire out for.

  My father had owned and operated The Surf Shack for as long as I can remember. I used to work alongside him, probably getting in his way more than helping, when I was a little boy. I'd learned all about the ocean, how to have fun in the water safely, and the value of hard work by the time I hit high school. When I graduated, I took up lifeguarding full-time and filling in at The Shack instead of college. The Shack was in the black, but there wasn't much left over for things like an expensive college education.

  When my father passed away unexpectedly two years ago, he'd left the business to me and I bore the responsibility in many ways. I wanted to succeed to keep my father's legacy going, but The Shack had also become an HB institution along the way. If tourists asked around for the most 'original' Surf City USA shop to rent boards from, everyone always said The Shack. It had been around for over forty years and if it went under now, I'd have to live with that failure for the rest of my life.

  The problem was, HB was booming and new rental shops were opening all over the place, taking a bunch of our business. Tourists were all about convenience and they weren't about to go further out of their way or search for precious parking further down the road to get the same boards. The boats I had in inventory were expensive to keep running smoothly, nor did I want to buy fancy new ones that might sit empty in the harbor.

  The Shack was paid off and I owned the land, but between operating expenses and property taxes, I still wasn't making any profit. In fact, without my lifeguarding job, I wouldn't be able to keep it afloat. I'd only hired one employee to open the shop every day during the week when I was lifeguarding. I was on my way now to relieve him from his shift and close out the day's rentals. I'd be there in time for everyone to return their day rentals, then I had to clean all the equipment and get them ready for the next day. Before bed I'd go through invoices and make sure all the rentals were paid for and logged in my software.

  Then I'd get up and do the same sixteen-hour day all over again. See why I didn't have the time nor the energy for dating?

  Once I reached The Shack I went through the motions and handled all the tasks necessary to close for the day. If a certain blonde entered my head, I pushed her out and refocused on the task at hand. I trudged upstairs to my tiny apartment above the shop and threw a frozen meal in the microwave. After shoveling it down I lay on my bed, phone in hand.

  A glutton for punishment, I opened up social media to scroll through my newsfeed, getting caught up on all the exciting adventures my friends were having. One buddy from high school just got back from a vacation in Hawaii. My lifeguarding buddy, Ivan, was posting pics of he and his fianceé. They were getting married in just a few months and the guy couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face.

  I couldn't help the familiar burn of jealousy that coursed through my body seeing all the accomplishments of my peers. I'd always wanted to travel the world with my backpack and immerse myself in all the cultures of the world. Finances didn't allow and now responsibility took priority. I wanted a partner in life, but again, lack of money and time due to responsibilities was making that impossible.

  My eyes were glazing over as my thumb continued to scroll. Then I saw a picture that stopped my scroll. And my heart.

  Jackknifing up in bed, I clicked on the picture and enlarged it. Like a train wreck, I couldn't look away from the mess in front of me. Two smiling faces lit up the screen, but my eyes zeroed in on the hand that the woman laid on the man's chest. It had a huge diamond engagement ring on it. And the hand belonged to my high school girlfriend. The love of my life. The one that left me a few years ago, after dating for eight long years, all because I didn't have enough money and never would.

  I threw my phone down on the bed and hopped up. I paced my small flat like a caged animal. God, that fucking hurt. We'd broken up a long time ago, but the sting of her rejection was still fresh. Seeing her moved on, happy, and now engaged to a man wealthy enough to put that rock on her finger was like a kick to the gut.

  She'd moved on, but I hadn't. I was still living in the same place, doing the same jobs. Alone. Going nowhere.

  I raced down the stairs and flew out the back door. On a mission, I paced down the wood dock and hopped into a small dinghy we normally rented out a couple times a year. I laid back in the bottom of the boat and stared up at the sky, letting the star formations and the gentle rocking of the water soothe me.

  As the world reformed around me, a world in which she was with another man and never again with me, I accepted the ache in my chest and welcomed it to its permanent residence. It wasn't like I wanted to be back together with her, or had spent the last five years pining for her. She'd left me over money, which was a really shitty way to treat someone you claimed to love. I just missed having someone in my life. I missed having a life, period. One that was larger than my job and this chain around my ankle, otherwise known as The Shack.

  And she'd been right. I'd never be wealthy enough to give her what she wanted. To give any woman what she wanted. I had to somehow be okay with that. This was simply my fate in life and the sooner I accepted it, the better off I'd be.

  I didn't have riches, but I had a family legacy, a city that supported me, and a job that got me out in the ocean, which I thrived on. My life didn't look like what I'd pictured when I was a young teen, but I was an adult now and this must be what the phrase 'man up' meant. Suck it up, buttercup.

  My pathetic version of positive thinking didn't make the ache leave my chest, but it was all I could muster up at the moment. Exhaustion did funny things to emotions. It amplified the bad ones and made you feel like you couldn't escape them. Lately, that's all I ever was: exhausted.

  When the houses nearby all began to turn off their lights for the night, I made my way back inside and stumbled to bed, worn out physically and emotionally.

  Right before I drifted off to sleep, an image of the hippie girl in her VW, carefree and happy, flashed through my mind again. I desperately wanted just a moment of that lightheartedness. Just a moment to feel free, like I could do anything I wanted. Not a care in the world. Was that too much to ask?

  3

  Sage

  I threw back the bedroom curtains the next morning, taking in my spectacular view for the next year. The Pacific spread out below me, people already trekking across the sand to set up their camp for the day. The rental house was situated far back enough that I couldn't make out faces, nor hear anything over the crash of the waves mixed in with the current traffic on PCH. I slid open the glass door and sat on the patio sipping my coffee. The sun was climbing in the clear sky, the breeze was gentle, and my nose was free of tingles.

  Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it.

  I'd slept like a baby in my huge California king bed, knowing I was thousands of miles away from my father's disapproving eye. Yes, I was here because of his ultimatum, but I'd get it done and then I'd be done doing his bidding forever. Besides, building a successful restaurant in a beach town sounded like it might even be
fun.

  Finished with my coffee, I went back inside and took out a tailored suit from the closet. I'd only brought two suits, as I didn't anticipate needing to wear formal business attire once I got past the initial negotiations with the seller and Lord knew I hated to wear those straightjackets. I took my time showering and putting on 'corporate' make-up. My hand itched to pick up my green sparkly eye shadow, but I stuffed down my inner wild child and stuck to the staid shades of brown. My hair withstood the treatment of a flat iron and then went back into a low ponytail. Next up was the suit and heels.

  Looking at myself in the full length mirror, I cringed. I'd morphed into a full-fledged business lackey like the people who followed my father around all day kissing his ass.

  "One year. Then you can do whatever the hell you want, Sage," I said to my reflection. I had a feeling I'd be having lots of these little pep-talks with my reflection over the coming year.

  I grabbed my leather portfolio (which had almost nothing in it, but I figured it made me look important and very business-like), my keys, and my reading glasses that made me look older but didn't help my eyesight at all, and I was ready to roll. I had to keep the windows rolled up this trip for fear of messing up my hair-do helmet. Everything about this business crap was stifling, right down to my hair choices.

  I pulled up into a parking lot, cringing as my little Bug rattled over the potholes leading into the lot. There was only enough room for four cars at one time. Thankfully, I was the only one there so I had my pick of spots. Before getting out, I checked out the surrounding area and felt the sides of my mouth turn down in disgust.

  This place was a dump.

  I peered through the windshield and checked that the sign on the building in front of me said The Surf Shack. The peeling paint on the outside of the building, combined with the dirty windows made me shiver. But on the bright side, if the place was doing that badly, the owner should be all too happy to sell and wash his hands of the place.

  Climbing out of my car, I looked for unsavory individuals lurking in the area and came up empty. Dirty and rundown, but relatively safe. I grabbed my portfolio and walked across the pavement, catching my heel and stumbling every few feet due to the potholes and the weeds growing up through the cracks. The lack of dirty syringes or the odd plastic glove that littered these types of establishments was a small relief.

  I was debating the merits of touching the dirty doorknob to go in, or simply knocking on the door, when said door burst open and a tall man barreled out, nearly taking me down to the dirty ground. I flailed, teetering on my heels, managing to whack him solidly in the chest with my leather portfolio. Next thing I knew, arms were grabbing ahold of me and I was pressed up against an impressive chest. A whiff of Irish Spring soap drifted to my nose, reminding me I was entirely too intimate with a stranger.

  Equilibrium regained, I stepped back and tugged on my suit which had gone askew in the tussle.

  "You hit me." A calm voice floated across the air space, bringing my gaze to the man's face. I pushed the bridge of my glasses back up my nose and gulped in air. I would be a horrible witness to a crime. I'd smelled and identified his soap brand and then listened to the man's velvety voice before ever thinking to look at his facial features.

  To be fair, I was a little startled by the muscular chest I'd been up against, and then the bulging biceps. The face had seemed secondary.

  Until I looked at it.

  Startling blue eyes gazed at me from a tan face topped with wild brown hair, still damp from a shower. The blue eyes assessed me from head to toe before coming back to my face, now significantly colder than before.

  "Well, to be fair, you almost knocked me over." I didn't grow up with an overbearing father without learning how to stick up for myself.

  "I don't like trespassers. And you're on my property, so..." He still spoke calmly but those thick arms crossed over his chest, threat implied.

  My eyes disobeyed my brain and dropped to those arms and that chest for a brief moment before I wrestled them back up to his stony face. What a dick. A gorgeous one, for sure, but still a total dick.

  I channeled my inner father and rose to my full height, tilting my head back to somehow look down my nose at him. Given that he was over six feet tall, that was quite an impressive feat.

  "I thought this was a business, my bad." I pivoted to walk right by him, but he stopped me with a big hand on my arm. His touch was gentle for such a solid guy.

  "We rent paddle boards, surfboards, wetsuits, small watercraft. You don't look like you're in the market for any of that. So as I said, this is private property."

  I rotated my head to meet his gaze, finding I quite liked that hand still on my arm and I liked the way this man talked. Something about his voice intrigued me, even as he said things I didn't like. I wanted him to shut up and I wanted him to keep talking.

  My thoughts were jumbled. I wasn't yet comfortable handling this type of business deal normally. Add in a hot guy who made me lose my mind and I was lost.

  "I'm not here for nefarious purposes, I assure you. I left my paint spray back at the house. I'm here to speak to the owner." As if I was a threat on his property. Please. I'd been known to discover a spider in the house, scoop it gently into a cup, and deposit it safely outside to live another day. I literally wouldn't hurt a fly.

  That same soothing voice grabbed my attention. "Then today's your lucky day. Because you're speaking to him." His hand finally dropped from my arm, leaving a chill in its absence. "But I'm about to be late to work so I gotta go. I'm not buying anything, so you might as well move on to another business."

  Before I could protest, he'd spun around and exited down a dock on the side of the building. I was a few seconds slow in running after him, mainly due to my heels being the wrong footwear for such an activity. Okay fine, it was because I was checking out his ass in those red board shorts. Damn, that boy knew where the weight room was and visited often.

  Anywho, when I finally rounded the corner of the building, I found my voice and shouted after him. "I'm not here to sell you anything! I'm here to bail you out!"

  My words stopped him in his tracks, a quick pause next to a silver truck, before he stalked back to me in a matter of seconds, possibly due to wearing the appropriate footwear for a wooden dock. He stopped mere inches from the pointy toes of my heels, the waft of Irish Spring hitting me again, a welcome relief from the slight fishy smell of the harbor.

  Those arms were crossed again, trying to intimidate. "I wasn't aware I needed bailing out."

  I blinked, wrestling my train of thought back to the conversation at hand. "Well, you're rushing off to work, your shop is rundown, your chi is clearly blocked and stagnant." I huffed, flinging my hands about in the space between us, thinking it was pretty obvious he needed to unload this building. "I'm here to offer you an out."

  Instead of getting to the point of how I could help him, he leaned forward, his gorgeous face only a few inches from mine, his eyes warming into something that looked like humor. "My chi is--"

  "Blocked. Stagnant." I nodded my head, hands on hips. Any idiot could see he wasn't happy. His aura colors told me everything I needed to know.

  "Okay..."

  "So. I'm offering to buy this property from you." I gave him my best smile, happy now that we were back on track.

  He leaned back and his eyes went cold again, making me wonder where I went wrong. "No."

  Then he spun around and stalked to his truck. This time, I was quicker, and less distracted by his butt in my panic, so I followed him. He must have heard my heels clacking after him on the wooden planks because he came to an abrupt halt and I ran straight into his back. I bounced off all that muscle like a little metal ball in one of those old-school pinball machines that were the total shit. A fraction of a second before I went down a second time in this awkward encounter, his hands grabbed hold of my arms and jerked me upright.

  The breath was knocked out of me and all I could do was stare at
him, my glasses sitting on the tip of my nose. He stared back, his eyes totally unreadable. My heart pounded and my words took a hike. When I got my feet solidly under me, he released one arm and pushed my glasses up before setting me back from him.

  "Watch your step." He winked at me, completely straight-faced, which confused the hell out of me. Was he as affected by our close proximity? Or was that face holding back the anger he felt at my proposition? I couldn't tell and that bothered me. His auras weren't talking to me anymore.

  I didn't get a chance to ask either because he hopped in his truck and took off, not even bothering to give me a second glance. It was uncertain where that left our negotiations, but I was pretty sure this wasn't going to be as simple as I originally thought.

  Picking my way carefully back to the storefront, I looked through the windows and checked out the interior, trying to understand why he was so attached to this place. The inside was slightly better than the outside, showing clean equipment lined up the sides of the walls, along with a short counter than held a register and various paraphernalia for sale. It was simple and fairly straightforward, except for the line of framed photos on the wall behind the counter. I couldn't make out who was in the pictures, but the photographs looked to be black and white, with yellow showing around the edges. The 'closed' sign was in the window, the hours listed showing they'd open in half an hour.

  I backed away, knowing I could do nothing more at the moment. Time to regroup and attack this again later on. I picked my way across the concrete lot to my car, rolling down the windows to keep the fresh air coming. Hairdo be damned. My best thinking required fresh air.

  I ripped the stupid glasses off my face and opened up my empty portfolio. On the pad of yellow, lined paper I wrote down what I knew so far, planning to go back to the hotel and work on a plan of attack. My father had sent some preliminary research but it just had a bunch of land value numbers and projections, not actual information on the business that was presently on that land. I'd need to do some investigating to find out why Mr. Gorgeous was so attached to the place.