I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what she was after. But I ignored her, kissed my fingertips before placing them on the casket, and told my daddy I loved him. Then I walked the fuck away from my biological mother while she was still talking. I was pissed, my heart strings being pulled each and every way, but there was no way I’d make a scene in front of the hundreds of people who showed up to pay their respects.
The next day, she had the nerve to show up on my doorstep. I was still in my pajamas at well past noon, my eyes a puffed-up mess, nose red, and a splotchy face. Harsh words were said then, the cops were called by me, and she was escorted away. I thought that would be the last of it, but apparently, when your dad is a singer-songwriter for a few well-to-do rock bands, it brings out the crazy in people. Thank goodness my father had his shit together and his lawyers at the ready. It helped when she continued to come around. It also made me realize I may never escape her brand of crazy. Another reason why I’m here, at the beach, and alone in this crazy fucked-up world, mad at God, and a list of many other things. I take one last cleansing breath, stand up, grab my guitar, and head inside for the remainder of the night, already knowing sleep won’t come easy to me.
3
Fox
“God damn son of a bitch,” I growl after stubbing my toe on the deck. Chance still hasn’t had the time to fix it. I could probably do it myself, but then I’d have no deck, and who knows how long it would take me. I’m exhausted as all fucking get out, never having had a chance to fall back asleep after the middle-of-the-night escapades last night. Sure, I dozed off, but then something would startle me awake. If it weren’t for the moon still in the sky, I would have gotten up, piddled around the house before I start my morning run.
“Broken-hearted woman mourning a man, singing all hours of the night,” I grumble as I put myself through my morning stretches. When I started my path to recovering from my injuries, the doctor warned me it could take well over a year to get back to my normal routine, and that was just because I had basically a brand-new knee, certain things could trigger a relapse and land me back in rehab. That word alone still makes me shiver. It was a long journey for me. I put the work in, in and out of the office. Sometimes, my knee will act up, but for the most part it’s better than it was before it got shattered to pieces.
“Sorry about that.” I’m knocked out of my thoughts down memory lane by the woman with the voice. Damn, does she have a voice. She’s standing against her deck railing, a mug of something in her hands, hair that covered her face and body from my view last night pulled back in some low side ponytail, giving way to an angelic face, bright green eyes, soft smile, smooth tan skin, and a knockout of a body.
If this woman was crying over a man who left her, he’s surely not worth her time. “Ignore me. I’m a bear in the morning. You okay?” I set aside my attitude because she looks like she could use someone more than she did last night. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed.
“Probably not. I didn’t realize it had gotten that late. To be honest, I’m kind of just processing things right now.” She shrugs her shoulders, causing me to look down at the expanse of skin across her chest. Once I realize my eyes are going right to her tits, I move them back up. This woman doesn’t need some guy she doesn’t know gawking at her, even in the clothes she’s barely wearing.
“He’s not worth it, not worth the amount of tears you’re shedding,” I tell her.
“I’d beg to differ, but it’s not really your business. I’ll try not to ruin another night of yours.” The mysterious neighbor turns on her heel, flinging her hair over her shoulder, throwing her attitude back at me. What she doesn’t realize is the view she’s leaving me with, elegant shoulders, squared in stature, an hourglass shape, her ass bouncing with every step, giving way to her shapely legs and bare feet. All of that wrapped up in some kind of silk top and bottoms. If she were my woman, I’d have my say about what she wore, even if it was while on the back porch of a house. There are too many wandering fucking eyes.
I finish going through my paces, working on my legs this time, then I set out in a slow jog down to the shoreline. Most times, I have earbuds playing for background noise, but because it’s so early in the day and the beach is dead, I figure I’ll use the waves as my background instead.
My mind goes blank as I start out at a light jog. It’s the one thing that stops all the noise rattling around in my head. No work, no house issues, nothing but my feet pounding the sand beneath them. By the time the sun is really up in the sky, beating my sweaty body, I’m in a full run. The only thing that interrupts my run is when my watch beeps, letting me know I’ve completed my first mile. My goal is only two miles today, so I turn around and head home, already hoping for a glimpse of the spitfire that has taken residence next door, and apparently also in my fucking head. Too bad she seems to have more baggage than I’m prepared to deal with. That shit is not for me. It’s why I’ve remained single all these years. It’s easier that way. Footloose and fancy free is apparently how I’m meant to be, and it hasn’t failed me yet.
4
Melanie
“Is it too early to drink?” I ramble around the empty space after my run-in with Sir Dickhead. As if he has any right to judge me. I bet if he knew the half of it, he’d be groveling on his knees.
I bypass the champagne along with the orange juice, knowing I’m not going to drink this morning. It’s a figure of speech. Nothing says misery like drowning yourself in alcohol at sunrise. Not like it really matters since sleeping didn’t happen, again. God bless my dad’s friend and attorney. He tried to get me in to see a therapist or even a doctor to help prescribe me something to help me get sleep. The only problem with that is my intolerance to medicine, because when I do take it, I’m out for a solid forty-eight hours. I mean, sure, that could be a good thing, but not when you’re alone at a beach house with not a friend around. Even if the neighbor is ridiculously hot. I didn’t mind the view he was giving me one-bit, dark hair, shaved on the sides, longer on the top, his eyes that see far too much are also dark, almost black, a few days’ growth of stubble on his jaw, giving him that sexy rugged bad-boy appeal.
That was only the beginning. He didn’t see me checking him out while he was stretching, his muscular back giving way to a firm backside, and when I made my presence known, let’s just say there was a reason my nipples tightened with need. He was drop-dead gorgeous, the whole freaking package, until he opened his mouth. Then it was all over. I had no problem turning around and leaving him with his mouth hanging open.
So, that’s why I’m forgoing the mimosas, marching up the staircase, and am going to scrounge together some semblance of a bathing suit. That is if I packed one. Knowing my luck, I forgot to pack one. I’ve already been to the store too many times in the few days I’ve been here. Apparently, I thought it was okay to not pack the necessities, you know, like panties, a toothbrush, and body wash. I really am a freaking mess. That’s why when I dig through my still packed suitcase, I’m shit out of luck in the bathing suit department.