“Whelp, I guess that cancels out the plans to laze around in the sun all day.” Instead, I throw on a pair of panties, shorts, a tank top sans bra—because hello, built-in shelf bra, which is the best thing a woman must have invented—scrub my face and teeth, not bothering with brushing my hair and just fluffing up the top so it doesn’t look so flat against my skull, and then do the same to the bottom. A baseball cap and flip flops complete my look. Then I grab my bag. Even the rumble of my stomach isn’t going to stop me from going shopping today. I could eat before I go out, but who wants to do that when it’s a gorgeous day outside? Okay, I take that back. I’m more than likely going to stop at the local coffee shop to grab more caffeine and something to eat, because that’s the only thing I seem to be living on these days. The sun is calling my name, and if I have any luck at all, a lounge chair on the beach, the sun, and the surf crashing in the distance will lull me into a much-needed nap, since sleeping at night isn’t happening.
I walk out the door, loving the keypad as a lock instead of a key. It’s so much more user friendly. A part of me is wondering if I shouldn’t box everything up back home in California. The thought that I would be getting rid of a piece of my father makes me tremble with a drowning feeling, so I shut it down completely. Though going back there at this point in time won’t be happening either. For now, I’ll stay in South Carolina, be a tourist, and pump money into their economy by checking out all the local shops, because, you know, that whole lack of packing issue, and then, of course, food. This small tourist town is full of hidden gems with amazing food to eat your way through while shopping. And that’s what I’m set out to do this early in the morning.
5
Fox
My run did absolutely nothing to clear my mind of the vixen that has seemed to be taking up permanent residency in my head for the past twelve fucking hours. So much that when I took a shower after coming off the beach, my cock was hard as a rock and I was fucking my fist to the thought of her riding me reverse cowgirl, my hands in her hair, pulling it back, my mouth sucking on her neck as she grinds down on my cock. It had me coming in record time. Not that it did a shit ton of good—the fucking thing was harder than nails ten minutes later. I rushed out of the shower, more pissed off than when they air lifted my ass from Iraq to Germany, my knee a ripped-up mess, knowing full well my career as a Seal was over.
I went through the motions of drying off, grabbing board shorts and a tee with The Wet Spot logo. Even if I do turn a lot of heads with it, free advertising is what I’m after. It may seem crude to certain people, but tell that to my bank account that’s being padded on the daily. We’re able to give back to fallen Veterans, sponsor the beach volleyball team, and help some families along the way that are down on their luck.
“Fuck.” I look at the time, seeing it’s half past nine. I should have been there thirty minutes ago to help Sloane open up, get the clothing inventory done, check on a few surf boards that were ordered for a local surfer who needs a new one for a competition in Hawaii. I’m blaming it on the woman with the voice of an angel, a body of a goddess, and a tongue as sharp as a sword.
The breakfast I was going to make is long forgotten. There’s no way I can afford to stop to make anything. I’ll have to see if Sloane wants to take her break early, grab the both of us something to eat before the busy foot traffic makes its way into the shop. I grab my keys and phone, rushing to make sure shit is locked up for the day, the windows being shut after last night’s serenade, and I’m out the door.
My eyes glance at the place that houses a blonde-haired beauty, hoping for another glimpse of her. Not seeing her, I shake my head. There’s no way that woman is ready for anything, least of all a man who doesn’t even know if he’s ready to settle down. But the way she has fire and ice running through her, it’s enough to make me want that elusive dream, of the love and marriage my brother and his wife have, hell, the years my parents have put into their marriage. I bet there’s nothing better than coming home to the woman you love day in and day out.
While I walk to the shop, I think about what that could be like. Sure, the nameless woman isn’t at that stage in her life, especially with the vehemence she had in her tone today. If things were different, though, if she weren’t mending a broken heart, I’d be doing my best to be there beside her. Hell, I might still, if she gives me half a chance.
It takes me a few minutes until I’m at the shop. Another deciding factor of finding my place and the store, they’re in walking distance, meaning I don’t have to drive too much unless it’s for errands.
“Hey, hot rod,” Sloane says behind the cash register.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” I wave to her, veering off towards the office door.
“Fox, seriously, you’re the owner. I’m pretty sure I can open and close this place in my sleep. The inventory is done. The only thing I need you to do is deal with the surfboard, and definitely the customer. He’s already called three times this morning. His messages are on the desk.” Sloane rolls her eyes.
“He’s usually pretty calm. The Hawaii officials must be breathing down his neck. I’ll see what’s going on. You got this for now? It won’t take long, then, if you don’t mind, I’ll have you go grab some food? I’m fucking starving.” It’s only souring my mood even more that I’ve had no sleep, went for a run, and my body is running on coffee.
“It’s pretty quiet in here. I’ll go next door and grab us something. Your usual?” Sloane asks.
“Yes. You’re a godsend. Thanks.” I nod my head and then get down to business.
6
Melanie
I sink my teeth into the biscuit I just picked up at the local breakfast shop. It’s savory and sweet, probably the best thing I’ve eaten since being down here. In my other hand is a cup that has more creamer in it than coffee, along with sugar. I’m standing outside, people watching while I shovel my food down. I seriously need to grocery shop and start eating at the beach house, especially because I’ve come up with the idea to extend my rental well into summer.
The email I got this morning while walking here said my mother was going to try and contest my father’s will. Apparently, she thinks she’s owed something. That woman will never stop. It doesn’t mean I want to go back to California and face her. Instead, I emailed the rental company and added two months to the beach house. Then I called my attorney, who’s also basically my second dad, Gene, and told him to start the process of boxing things up and moving them into storage. We’d go from there on what he thought would be the smartest move to either rent or sell the house. It might seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision, but when you stay up day and night, everything’s whirling around in your brain, and this seems like the best plan of action for me. He thought it was a good idea to sell my childhood home. I almost broke down in the middle of the street, but like he said, if I rent it out, worse could happen. Tenants from hell, the market could crash, causing me to lose my ass, or I’d have to deal with a real estate agency for renters. I decided selling would be the best, so much as it’s furnished as well, besides a few pieces that Gene knows are near and dear to my heart, my father’s antique desk being the main thing. The guitars, he’s shipping to me. I’m not sure what my womb donor is capable of, and I’d rather have them here with me than anywhere else.