Side Hustle: A Small Town Romantic Comedy (Jobs From Hell Book 4) Page 3

  A weak chuckle was all I could manage. Rip must not have found my attempt at humor very good either. He spun and looked at me like he wanted to say something. It was harder to get words out of Rip than it was to get gold out of this damn sea cave.

  “What?”

  “I talk more to the seagulls that land on my boat than I do humans.”

  My heart tumbled and rolled, wondering how it was that Rip and I could be having a moment. I hadn’t felt so heard and understood in years.

  Before I could say anything in response, like thank you for confirming that I’m not crazy to feel so alone in this world, he turned back around and whacked at the cave with his hammer, ending all possible conversation. It was better that way. Rip and I were like Pop Rocks and soda. If we mixed, we exploded and made a huge mess. Better to avoid each other, give each other a wide berth, and skip the mess.

  My eyes squeezed shut with each clang of the hammer against the stone, the sound reverberating through the pine trees. Poppy could totally hear that.

  “Got it!”

  At Rip’s jubilant outburst, I opened my eyes to see a nugget of gold the size of a squished golf ball in his hand. He stared at it, the hammer falling to the ground and a smudge of dirt across his forehead.

  Then he was swooping me into a bear hug, my cheek pressed to his impressive chest, and I couldn’t think of anything but how good he smelled.

  3

  Rip

  “Rip?”

  Mom stood inside the front door to the house I’d grown up in, her dress looking far more like the First Lady than what was required from a small-town-mayor’s wife. But that had always been Mom’s way. She’d probably keel over one day in her nineties, wearing her kitten heels and pearl necklace.

  “Hey, Mom. May I come in?”

  Yep, I had to knock on my own front door. We didn’t have the kind of family life that lent itself to unlocked doors and the casualness of just walking in unannounced. I’d moved out the day I graduated high school, thanks to a trust fund from my grandfather that had been mine on my eighteenth birthday. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t need much either. I was a simple man, much to my parents’ disappointment.

  “What brings you by?” Mom waved me in and I followed her to the formal sitting room, feeling a lot like a stranger trying to get a word with the mayor.

  “Well, I was hoping to speak to you and Dad about—”

  A horn beeped twice out front, interrupting me.

  “Oh! That’s Penelope, picking me up for the town council meeting.” Mom patted my cheek. “Can we talk later, son?”

  I nodded, feeling that same sense of disappointment churning in my gut. That was the way it always was. My parents didn’t have time for me, and on the off chance they did, it was to tell me all the ways I hadn’t lived up to the Bennett name.

  She beamed at me and dammit if my traitor heart didn’t lift a little at seeing that smile aimed my way. “Make sure you lock up, would you?”

  I nodded again and she was off, the front door clicking behind her and the grandfather clock marking my time alone in this house. Looking around, I took in the antique tables without a speck of dust on their surfaces and the framed pictures of my parents with famous politicians on the mantle. Not one of those pictures held my smiling face. Or my more usually frowning face for that matter. According to the pictures on display, I didn’t exist. Self-loathing mixed with the disappointment and I had the cocktail I always got served when I visited my parents. Or tried to visit, rather.

  Then Hazel’s excited face hit my brain and a ribbon of positive energy made me stand taller. I didn’t want to let her down. Hell, I didn’t want to let myself down. I’d done that enough to last a lifetime. I rushed down the hallway to Dad’s home office, ignoring the expensive paintings on the wall, or my bedroom they’d turned into an exercise room the day after I moved out.

  The door was unlocked, which to me meant an open invitation to explore. It wasn’t really breaking and entering when your mom let you in and the doors were all unlocked, right? The heavy maple desk sat in its familiar location, the dark leather chair as imposing with my dad in it or not. A faint whiff of cigar smoke still permeated the air. I rolled my eyes. What a fucking cliché he was.

  Marching over, I ripped open the bottom drawer of his desk, looking for anything that could tell me who owned that land in town. For as much as I disliked my biological donor, I had to admit he was blessedly anal with his filing system. Even the little labels on top of the file folders were typed out. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for.

  I pulled the folder and put it on the desk, opening it and spreading out the pages to see what I was looking at with this plot of land. My grandfather had held the title until my father took it over decades ago. Another flip of the page and a new title lay there. A title that had my name on it as the owner. Dated eight years ago.

  Eight fucking years ago.

  The land was mine and had been for quite some time, and my father hadn’t said a word to me about it. What an ass—

  Holy shit.

  I stood straight up, shock pulsing all the way to my toes. The land was mine. The gold was mine.

  The tip of my nose went numb and I wondered if I might pass out. Scrambling now with shaky hands, I pushed all the pages back into the file and closed it, tucking it under my arm. I turned to leave in a mad rush and bashed my shin against the open file drawer.

  “Shit!” I said out loud, pain reverberating up my leg.

  I leaned down to slam the drawer shut when another file folder met my eye.

  Megan Lizzarro

  I’d never heard of her and being raised in a small town my whole life, I would have remembered her name. Why did my father have a whole folder for her in his home office? If it was official city business, wouldn’t he have kept the folder at his office in the City Hall building?

  I snatched the folder up and opened it, part of me wondering if I’d finally catch Dad in something shady that I could use as leverage against him. Unfortunately, all I saw was row upon row of dates, dollar amounts, and addresses. None of it rang a bell, but then again, why was my dad receiving money from some lady named Megan? And it wasn’t just a paltry hundred dollars here and there. We’re talking six figures in payments.

  The slamming of a car door out front of the house had my head snapping up. Tingles of alarm raced up my spine and I knew my time alone in this house was up. I shoved the papers back in the folder, put it under my arm with the other folder, closed the drawer as silently as I could, and slipped out of the office. Thankfully, I knew this house like the back of my hand. I knew which floorboards to step over to avoid a loud groan and exactly where the back door was located.

  The front door slammed shut and Dad’s voice echoed down the hallway, probably barking at some assistant on the phone who worked her tail off for minimum wage and daily abuse. I didn’t plan to stick around long enough to hear his latest drama. I had my hand on the doorknob of the back door when I heard him rattle off instructions.

  “Book a hotel room again for M. Smith at Hill Hotel for day after tomorrow. She’ll pay for the room with cash when she checks in, like usual.”

  I turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door, cringing over a tiny squeak that sounded louder than a gunshot. Sliding out the door, I paced myself closing it again, escape so close I could taste it. The second the door was closed, I turned and ran, hopping over the fence and hightailing it down the street to where I’d parked my truck. Thank God my parents had always yelled at me for parking that ugly thing in front of their house. I’d gotten used to parking down the street just to save them from the embarrassment. The file folders went under my seat where they’d stay protected until I figured out what I wanted to do with them.

  My heart and lungs thundered, not comprehending the danger was gone. As I zoomed down the road, the windows rolled down to let in the fresh, salty air of Auburn Hill, I fought with unfamiliar emotions. Elation, the kind I hadn’t felt maybe in forever, mixed with the anger that always simmered below the surface when it came to matters of my father. I was still pissed at him, but now that I knew that land was mine, I also had hope. The kind of hope that made me feel like I was flying down the road on a cloud.

  Even more strangely, the only person I wanted to talk to right then and there was Hazel Redding. So I did.

  “Rip? Everything okay?” she said by way of answering the phone.

  Her voice held her normal overexuberance, but it also held concern. For me. And that lit up something else in my chest. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. But I have more info on the, uh, arrowhead.”

  “Huh?” She paused and I wanted to throttle her through the phone. This whole subterfuge was her idea in the first place. “Oh! Wait! Yes, the arrowhead. Okay. Awesome.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. Barely.

  “I’m driving to the marina right now. Can you meet me there? We can head out to sea for a bit and chat there where no bionic ears will hear us.”

  “Ooh! A cruise? Heck yes! In fact, I’ll bring the turmeric carob cookies I just made and a jug of sangria. We’ll make it a booze cruise!”

  I pictured her face, probably split in a huge grin, bobbing up and down as she bounced with excitement. My stomach revolted at the sound of those cookies, though. Hazel’s baking, even something normal like chocolate chip cookies, was less than appealing.

  “I’m, uh, watching my sugar intake. Maybe just bring some water?” The sign for the marina was just up ahead. I made the turn and felt my muscles relaxing at the sight of the ocean.

  Hazel snorted loudly into the phone and I felt chastised instantly.

  “Water? Are you kidding me right now? Boring, Bennett.”

  Whoever said words couldn’t hurt was dead wrong. “You don’t have to call me names,” I grumbled, climbing out of my truck.

  “Huh? I didn’t call you a name, I just said your water idea was boring. So I’ll bring the cookies and the sangria. See you in fifteen.”

  She hung up and I held my phone out in front of my face as if it would explain the mysteries of Hazel Redding. I guessed I jumped to conclusions about her calling me names. It’s just I’d been teased a lot in high school about behaving like an old man. Told my name Rip was the most exciting thing about me. Boring Bennett had been uttered under someone’s breath on more than one occasion. It was only natural to be a little sensitive.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to have a good time with Hazel. If I was being honest with myself, I desperately wanted to spend time with her. At least, the way we used to be before junior year of high school and all that happened back then. It’s just the idea of adding alcohol to the mix when it would just be her and me, alone…well, it scared me. I could deny my attraction to her when I was dead sober.

  I wasn’t so sure if I had liquid courage flowing through my veins.

  4

  Hazel

  The plate of cookies wobbled dangerously on top of the canister of sangria, but alas, I only had two hands, so I’d have to chance it in order to get my bag out of the Jeep, along with the goodies. A seagull shrieked above my head and I gave it the evil eye. Damn bird had probably already sniffed out my cookies. Well, tough luck, sea chicken. These cookies were for humans only. Once the bag was safely on my shoulder, I closed my car door and rescued my precious cookies. These babies were not only yummy, but healthy with inflammation-dousing turmeric and low-sugar carob. Rip would love them since he was watching his sugar intake.

  I turned, weighed down like a pack mule, already in my happy place with the wind in my hair and the smell of the sea floating by my nose. And the promise of a party. Let’s be real. A party would always be my true happy place. But there was Rip, standing on the edge of the marina, staring off at sea, hands on his hips. Such a Rip pose. Contemplative, ignoring all human interaction around him to stare off at nature with thoughts one could only guess at.

  We were opposites. Like polar opposites. I instigated the party and he slunk away from it. He grunted his one-word answers and I put an exclamation mark at the end of all of mine. No wonder we loathed each other. I was tempted to say hate, but hate would imply that the bad feelings festered from what happened our junior year. Life was too short for festering of any kind. So I simply loathed Rip while admiring the muscles that strained against every damn T-shirt he wore. Someone needed to tell him to buy the next size up. The sight was doing weird things to my stomach and confusing the loathing waters. I liked my loathing to be pure, and these lustful thoughts were far from pure.

  In fact, the sight of him staring off at the water was exactly like that one fateful night our junior year of high school.

  “Don’t you just love it here?” Rip’s face almost looked boyish at his delight in seeing the ocean.

  My heart hammered in my chest. What was it about seeing Rip’s normal demeanor come alive that spoke to something in my soul? Even Lenora had noticed how much he’d filled out over the summer. He was changing right before my eyes. Being here at the marina, just the two of us, was making me feel all sorts of things I hadn’t before.

  “Yeah, I love the water. One of my favorite things about Auburn Hill, actually.” I smiled up at him, his brown eyes sparkling down at me.

  He smiled back and I wanted to lick those lips of his. I leaned closer and he slipped his arm around my shoulders. It was a friendly move, one he’d done before, but something about the way he held me tonight made it seem like something more. Like the very thing I dreamed about when I went to bed at night.

  I held my breath and rested my head against his shoulder. He flinched and I immediately lifted my head.

  “S-sorry,” I stammered, thinking I’d read the situation all wrong and ruined everything.

  He winced, but pulled me in front of him, his whole body pressed against mine, his hands low on my back. Holy hell, the boy had definitely grown some muscles over the summer. “No, it’s just…I have a bruise there.”

  “What happened?” My stomach clenched, thinking the worst.

  His dark gaze danced away from mine and I knew.

  “Nothing. Just horsing around with the guys.”

  I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears. Going up on my toes, I kissed his shoulder feather soft, not wanting to hurt him more than his father already had.

  “It’s not right, Rip.”

  He stared at me, his eyes flaring back to life. His arms banded around me tighter and my heart raced again. His face came closer, his lips only an inch from mine.

  “We both have shit parents. But we do have each other, right?” he whispered.

  All the little broken pieces of my heart, the ones I covered up and didn’t show to anyone but Rip, fused back together at his words. Yeah. We did have each other and that was more than enough.

  He bridged the gap, placing his mouth on mine as if seeking permission. I opened for him, granting him everything he wanted. Everything I wanted. He nearly bent me in half in the next second, consuming my mouth with a fervor I never would have guessed from him. His tongue plunged inside, tasting me like I was the last cupcake on earth and he intended to consume every single crumb. He didn’t let up and I vaguely registered his hands roaming, exploring my curves while I clutched him to me. My body was on fire.

  I never wanted this kiss to end. I wanted to kiss him until I took my last breath. I wanted to climb him like a tree and claim him as mine. All mine. Hazel and Rip forever. Yell it to the ocean, carve it in the tree that stood next to the marina. This boy was mine.

  Another loud shriek from a seagull pulled me from the bittersweet memory. The bird swooped and I ducked, nearly losing one of my cookies to the flying vermin. I hollered at him and moved quickly down to where Rip had spun around at the noise. There was safety in numbers when it came to these bloodthirsty seagulls and I wasn’t too proud to let a guy handle it for me.

  Rip had his mouth bunched in a smirk. “Did you just call him a dumb cluck?”

  My cheeks flared. That memory had me all sorts of twisted up. “Probably. It’s what Granny calls them and it kind of stuck.”

  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, a lock of his dark hair curling down over his forehead. My fingers itched to swoop it out of the way for him. Thankfully, my hands were full and prevented me from doing something so colossally dumb.

  “I got the boat ready. You have anywhere you need to be at a certain time?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m all yours. Uh, well, you know what I mean.”

  What the hell? That was so lame. And so not what I meant to say. Rip smirked again, but thankfully didn’t say anything about my choice of words. He grabbed the bag off my shoulder and walked over to his boat.

  I had to change the subject. Quick. “You’re remarkably happy this evening. I assume that means good news?”

  Rip untied the boat without a word, pushed us off, and then expertly backed us out of the slip. He stood with his legs wide as he ran his hands over the huge wheel thingy. I may have loved the water, but I was far from knowledgeable about boats. I’d only been on Rip’s boat once before and he’d given me the stink eye the whole time, even though I’d tried to mingle with everyone else at the get-together and stay out of his way. As we got farther out into the ocean, the waves got a little choppier and I held on to the side rail while I bounced around one of the padded seats in front.

  It wasn’t long before he slowed the speed and eventually shut the engine off, letting us gently rock wherever the sea took us. The sun was just setting into the ocean, a giant ball of fiery orange and red.

  Rip flopped down onto the bench next to me, my nose able to pick up on his unique scent even in the open air. I inhaled quietly, my stomach flip-flopping despite knowing he and I weren’t good together. We’d proven that once already. The fact that he filled out a pair of jeans better than Beckham in his prime, or wore a clenched jaw like Henry Cavill, all that didn’t mean I should overlook the fact that he was an asshole. He’d made me trust him and then he’d let me down publicly like I meant nothing to him.