Chapter One
Leighton
As I march down the hall, I clutch the teal polo in my fist. Staff week at Haven Cove has barely even started, and I already can’t wait for the summer to be over. Not that I was wildly excited for it to begin in the first place, but I thought maybe I would get through the first day before I started to regret working at the resort again this season.
At least not a lot of the other workers have arrived yet, so I don’t have to explain why I have the polo. Even if they did, I’d stutter through an excuse about finding it and returning it to the Staff Director’s office. Not a complete lie. It was waiting for me in my locker, and I am taking it to the Staff Director’s office—to shove it down his throat.
Because right now, I’m out for blood. Knox Cabot’s blood.
It’s fitting since one of the rumored requirements for a reservation here is the blood of a first-born child. Of course, having peeked behind the curtain or, more accurately, the stone wall surrounding the sprawling resort, I can guarantee there are no ritualistic sacrifices or lizard people. All you need for a season reservation at Haven Cove is two personal recommendations from previous guests—and an obscene amount of money.
Even after living in Seaside Heights my entire life, it’s still hard to believe that a few miles past the last quickie mart lies one of the most prestigious summer resorts in the whole country. For twelve weeks a year, our struggling little town becomes a hot spot for the powerful and elite. We can barely keep our school open, but we have an airport for private jets.
Impressing the right person at the Cove can provide opportunities most only dream of, and I’m well aware of how many would kill for a chance at the teal shirt in my hand. Chances are someone has at some point or another. With so many powerhouses packed onto one strip of beach, Ivy Leaguers duke it out every year for one of the coveted positions that interact directly with the guests. Service managers, dance instructors, lifeguards, masseurs—all of these rich, over-privileged college kids take extra classes and become certified for jobs they would never consider in the real world. Then they fight hard and dirty to secure their spot.
But I’m not one of them. I’m a Heights native. A townie. And we don’t wear teal.
I walk straight into Knox’s office without knocking, letting the handle bang into the wall behind the door. After verifying the desk on the left is empty, my eyes swing to the other one across the room. Knox has his fingers shoved into his perfectly disheveled dark hair, holding his head up while he plays on his phone instead of working. Then again, when your dad owns the place, you get away with pretty much anything.
I storm forward and throw the polo at him. “What the hell, Knox?”
“Does it not fit?” He drops his phone onto the mahogany, sounding bored.
“Fuck you,” I spit back.
His full lips curl into a smirk as he sits back in his black designer chair. He slowly drags his dark, heated gaze up my body. “You’ll need to shut the door first.”
I fight against the traitorous shiver working through me when the gorgeous, cocky asshole pauses with his eyes on my chest.
And yes, regardless of how many times I’ve tried to drop the gorgeous from that description, it never sticks. Not when he moved here as a pissed off seventh-grader to live with his dad and decided I was going to be his best friend. Not after he left for boarding school freshman year and stopped talking to me for no reason. Not even last summer, which he spent pretending to not know me. And not once since my mom admitted to secretly dating Mr. Cabot and told me they were getting married.
Looking back, I should have seen it coming for months. I’d sent an application to work at Haven Cove last season even though I was only going to be a senior, and within two hours, Brent Cabot himself called to offer me a server position. Then, whenever he’d see me in the guest dining room, he’d smile and say hi. Other than me, he never talked to staffers except for Knox and his twin sister Kennedy.
Whether I missed the clues or not, it doesn’t change anything. The tycoon fell in love with the high school art teacher, and this season will conclude with them saying I do in a lavish ceremony beachside.
Meaning, not only is Knox Cabot my boss again this summer, but by the end of it, he’ll be my stepbrother.
All because of a flat-tire meet-cute on the side of the road.
“Why was that in my locker?” I ask, nodding toward the polo.
Knox stands from his chair and saunters around the desk to me. Unlike everyone else on the grounds today, wearing a uniform shirt and khaki shorts, he’s in light distressed jeans and a tight gray tee. The fabric grips his rippling biceps and clings to his chest and abs. Gorgeous. Unbelievably irritating and infuriating but fucking sculpted art.
His twin sister isn’t any less perfect. Kennedy’s long dark tresses never look out of place, waving down her back, and she has deep-cutting, seductive eyes that could lure a sailor to his death better than any siren song.
Knox picks up a clipboard and flips up the first page. “Leighton Howard, Service Manager.”
The clipboard lands on his desk, and he stops in front of me. His masculine scent invades my space, my senses. He reaches out, tugging at the sleeve of my sand-colored polo, and I bat his hand away.
“Wrong fucking color for management.”
Sand is given to waitstaff, housekeeping, and the kitchen crew. Those are primarily the only jobs available to locals. We wouldn’t even get a chance at those if not for the tax breaks our town offers the resort for hiring a certain number of residents every season.
“I only agreed to come back this year if I kept the same job,” I remind him. “I’m working as a server on the B shift.”
He grins, leaning back on the corner of his desk. “Yet, you’re being paid as one of my managers?”
I look at my tennis shoes, scuffed and dirty—a fitting contrast to Knox’s straight out of the box clean. “Talk to your dad about that one.”
Brent wouldn’t budge on my pay, but at least he promised to treat me like every other staffer, not letting on we know each other outside of the dining room. I mean, I love my mom, and Mr. Cabot isn’t a bad guy, but the division between the two types of staff is massive. The other townies acted cagey around me last year when he would say hi. The season would be miserable if they knew I was going to be his stepdaughter.
Which is why Mom swore they’d keep their distance if I stayed here for the summer. She started using her maiden name again after the engagement, and Kennedy’s so disinterested in me, I think she forgets we do know each other. That leaves one connection between me and the Cabots, and until twenty minutes ago, I thought he’d be the least problematic.
So. Fucking. Wrong.
“Fine, suck my dad’s bank account dry for all I care.” He pushes off the desk. “You’re working the A shift. And every single thing involving the servers that I don’t want to deal with is now your job too.”
“So everything?” I huff out an annoyed laugh, shaking my head. “Whatever happened to you ignoring me?”
He grins and shrugs. “I was told to make you feel welcome.”