Bayside Fantasies (Bayside Summers Book 6)

by Melissa Foster

  “Oh, Jetty. She sounds wonderful.”

  He winced. He’d gotten so caught up in thinking about Tegan, he’d forgotten he was talking to his grandmother.

  “And you’re seeing her again at your friend’s wedding?”

  “Why are you asking? It’s obvious Emery or someone else told you that I was.”

  “Just making sure you haven’t already canceled because of work.”

  He was planning to be there, but there was always the possibility that something might keep him from showing up. “Like I said, don’t get your hopes up. Now, you’ve used up your question quota, so what else would you like to talk about?”

  They talked about his brothers, and Rose said she hoped they would start families soon. Jett told her not to get her hopes up with that, either. His brothers didn’t seem in a hurry to have kids, and after what they’d experienced, he didn’t blame them.

  “I guess you’ve heard about the vultures swooping in again in Hyannis.”

  “Vultures?” he asked.

  “The investors who tried to buy up the businesses in town after the last nor’easter. They’re back, and this time it seems like folks are ready to sell.”

  “Wait a second. Slow down, Gram. Who, exactly? Which businesses?”

  “Let’s see, there’s the Olsons’ dry-cleaning business, and Bradleys’ seasonal shop at the end of Main. You know the one with all the floats and yard ornaments they put out front in the summertime. We used to take you kids there.”

  “I know the one.”

  “I’m most upset about Mitchell thinking of selling. When your grandfather was first courting me, there was a soda counter in the back of the store. He used to take me there and we’d talk for hours. Those are good memories, and when I think of them, they remind me why I fell in love with the old grump. I’ll be sad when the store closes, but Mitchell’s family has been through so much these last few years. From what I hear, the investors want to buy all the businesses on the block, tear them down, and put in a fancy office complex.”

  Jett’s chest constricted at the thought of Mitchell and the other small businesses giving up, not to mention what an office complex would do to the already overcommercialized town. “Is anyone fighting it? Who’s trying to buy them? They’d have to get approval from the town.”

  “I don’t know any of that. But it’s a shame. They call it progress, but if you ask me, people are spending so much energy progressing they forget what it feels like to breathe fresh air and enjoy life.”

  “Mm-hm,” he said absently, thinking about his hometown being taken over by an investor who had probably never stepped foot on the Cape. “Gram, I’ve got to run.”

  “Okay, honey. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. I’ll call you next week.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  After ending the call, he rang Tia on speakerphone and went to retrieve his laptop.

  “Shouldn’t you be nose deep in financials or getting laid?” Tia’s best friend, Becca Nunnally, said when she answered Tia’s phone. Becca lived in Port Hudson, New York, and worked for Aubrey Stewart, co-owner of LWW Enterprises and one of the most successful women Jett knew. She also shamelessly flirted with him every chance she got. He’d forgotten she was spending the weekend with Tia.

  “How’s it going, Bec?” He set his laptop on the desk and sat down.

  “That depends on what you need from Tia.” Music blared in the background. “We’ve got a weekend of clubbing planned. If you’re going to steal her away, the least you can do is fly back to the city and keep me company while she works. I promise to keep your mind off work.”

  Becca was a gorgeous blond with an hourglass figure, a penchant for dressing like a pinup girl, and a chip on her shoulder bigger than Manhattan. No, thank you. “Put her on, please.”

  A few seconds later Tia said, “Hey, boss.”

  “Hi. I need you to get me everything you can on each of the businesses on the 600 block of Main Street in Hyannis.”

  “Okay, can you email that to me? I’ve had a few drinks.”

  “Doing it now.” He pulled up his email program on the laptop. “Find out who’s trying to buy the properties there, too.”

  “Sure. Why the sudden interest in the Cape?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Does it have to do with the reason you canceled your flight Monday?”

  “No,” he snapped, and then corrected himself. “Sort of.”

  “You sound strange. Are you okay?”

  No, I’m not fucking okay. I’ve got a chick who is fucking with my head, the man who helped me find my way out of hell is about to lose his family business, and the deal I’ve been working on for months is giving me heartburn. He bit back that response and said, “Fine. Can you get it done?”

  “Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yeah. A drink. I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call, grabbed his wallet, and headed downstairs to the hotel bar.

  Jett spent a lot of time living in the penthouse suites of the hotels he owned and had spent too many evenings in hotel bars. Within seconds of walking in, he pegged the two women sitting at a table checking him out as easy prey, looking to hook up with just about anyone who would have them. Good luck, ladies. He sat at the bar and glanced at the guy two seats to his right, who was eyeing the redhead talking with the bartender at the other end of the bar, and immediately deemed him a dickhead—a married man who took off his wedding ring in order to score. Those types of men weren’t smart enough to realize their rings left tan lines. The woman drowning her sorrows a few seats to his left was too upset to be looking for a date. She’d probably had a recent breakup. She glanced over, and a forced smile appeared. He had enough of his own shit to deal with. Jett nodded in greeting and turned his attention to the young male bartender heading his way.

  He wiped the bar down in front of Jett and said, “What’ll it be?”

  “Whiskey, neat.” Jett’s mind shot back to Tegan. Was she out on a date with Bryson or some other guy? Was she sitting in a bar looking for a guy to pick up, or dancing, confident and hot as sin in a skintight dress?

  The redhead was watching him. Jett turned away, thinking about texting Tegan.

  He caught movement in his peripheral vision. The redhead was on the prowl, and he was her prey. She sauntered over and sat on the stool beside him, crossing her long legs. Her tight black dress barely covered her voluptuous curves.

  “Hi there,” she said, her eyes roaming over him seductively.

  “How’s it going?”

  “My night just got a whole lot better,” she said. “Are you here on business?”

  The bartender set Jett’s drink in front of him and said, “Want to run a tab?”

  Jett shook his head and paid for the drink. Then he turned to the redhead and said, “Yes, business. You?”

  “I work in pharmaceutical sales. I’m here for two more nights for a conference…”

  His phone vibrated with a text, and he had a fleeting hope that it might be Tegan and she hadn’t made a date with Bryson or some other guy after all. It pissed him off that he cared. The redhead went on about the conference, and he pulled out his phone and read the text from Tia. I forgot to tell you I was able to book the suite you wanted at the Silver House for the wedding. He shoved his phone in his back pocket, annoyed that he was disappointed it wasn’t Tegan, and turned his attention to the woman beside him.

  The redhead leaned closer and said, “I hate small talk.”

  “Who doesn’t?” He was thinking about Tegan loosening his tie at the café. Did she ever engage in small talk? She was so…Tegan.

  “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

  He sipped his drink thinking about the stupid question. What serial killer would answer honestly? He shrugged and said, “What do you think?”

  She eyed his dress shirt and slacks. He’d ditched his tie and jacket in his room. The hungry look on her face probably
sent many men to their knees, and she said, “If you are, I can think of no better way to die.” She brushed her leg against his and said, just above a whisper, “Maybe I’m a serial killer?”

  “You sound like a dangerous woman.” And clearly not a smart one. He took another drink, weighing his options for the night.

  “Only the best kind of dangerous.”

  Maybe one night with the redhead would help him get his head on straight.

  The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He thought about Tegan on a date with some other guy and downed his drink.

  The redhead put her hand on his leg and said, “We should get out of here.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” He pushed to his feet and tossed cash on the bar for a tip. He said, “Have a nice night,” to the redhead and stalked out of the bar.

  When he reached his room, he was more in need of a drink than when he’d left. He paced the floor, chest tight, nerves fried, and checked the time. It was still early in LA, but it was eleven thirty at the Cape. If Tegan had gone on a date and hooked up with another guy, she’d probably be in his arms right now.

  “Fuck it,” he ground out through gritted teeth. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  TEGAN SAT ON the living room floor pinning pieces of fabric to Joni’s costume, streaming Friends, and talking to her sister on the phone using her Bluetooth earbuds. She’d spoken to the auto shop earlier today, and they’d told her that Berta needed a new engine. She’d called Cici to grieve, and they’d relived all the great times they’d had with her, from their first road trip to the last time Tegan had driven to the city to see her, when Berta had gotten towed because Tegan hadn’t realized she’d parked in a no-parking zone. Tegan knew it would take a while to get over Berta.

  Cici finished filling her in on an upcoming photo shoot for a family who’d just had twins, and Tegan noted it in her calendar to do the edits. When her sister told her about how happy she and her husband, Cooper, were, Tegan began to feel a little better. Cici knew just how to cheer her up. She updated her about the adventures of her three-year-old nephew, Billy, who had recently decided he wanted to be a fisherman and was wearing rubber boots twenty-four-seven and refused to eat anything but fish, and her seven-year-old niece, Melody, who had told her father that she was never going to have a boyfriend because boys were stupid.

  “Did Cooper celebrate?” Tegan asked. She adored Cooper. He was a loving father and an adoring husband. “We all know he’d like to lock her up when she turns thirteen and let her out when she’s thirty.”

  “He made her say it again while he videotaped her so he can show it to her when she starts liking boys again.”

  “You mean like next week,” Tegan teased, sitting up to look at the pieces of fur she’d pinned to the bodice of the costume.

  “I know, right? She’s so fickle. I swear she could be your child.”

  “I’m not fickle. I’m very stable. I don’t quit jobs willy-nilly, or like someone one minute and hate them the next.”

  “You’re right. Fickle isn’t the right word for you, though I think it is for her. You make decisions on a dime, though, like within the first five minutes of a date.”

  “I did that twice. I just don’t believe in wasting time.” A couple of years ago Tegan had gone on a few blind dates. She’d decided within minutes of meeting the men that they were not right for her and had made excuses to leave. “And in my defense, I am really good at reading people.”

  “Three times. You dumped one guy at your front door, another on the way to dinner, and the third took you to the fair, where you pretended to get sick from cotton candy. You texted me on the way to the fair and said he was a dud but that Berta was broken down and you wanted funnel cake.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re right. I’m an awful person.”

  “No, you’re not. You have strong instincts, and you’re not afraid of anything. Melly’s getting more and more like that. It worries me sometimes.”

  “I know it does. But she’s a smart girl, and she’s only in elementary school. It’s not like she’s going to do drugs or have sex. At least not yet.”

  “Please don’t talk about my daughter and those things in the same sentence. She’s growing up so fast. I hope she gets your ability to size people up, but I’d rather she was like me about making big decisions. I want her to think everything through to the minutest detail, so she’s fully prepared.”

  Tegan moved to the bottom of the mermaid tail and began pinning in place the colorful scales she’d cut out. “Is that a dig?”

  “Definitely not. You can go from one thing to the next without blinking an eye, and you always land on your feet. But she’s my baby girl. What if she doesn’t land on her feet? What if she follows some guy across the country and he hurts her?”

  “Then you’ll be there to help her find her way back, and I’ll be there to kick the shit out of the asshole who hurt her.”

  “I’m holding you to that, you know.” Cici sighed heavily and said, “Being a mom is scary. Let’s talk about something else. Has anything new happened since we texted Sunday night, when you were working on your business plan with some guy you met at a party?”

  “Gosh, that seems like forever ago.”

  “He must have worked your brain into a tizzy. Who is he? What’s he like? Are you being careful?”

  “He definitely did a number on my brain, and I am always careful.” She leaned down to pin on a scale and said, “His name is Jett Masters, and he’s a complex guy.”

  “Jett Masters? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “He said Cooper and Jackson handled a photo shoot he was in for a feature in a magazine. Or maybe it was just one of them—I don’t remember.”

  “What magazine?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Hold on.” Cici called out, “Coop? Does the name Jett Masters ring a bell?”

  Tegan heard Cooper’s deep voice, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying, so she continued pinning scales on the costume.

  “Oh my gosh, Teg!” Cici said loudly, startling her. “He was featured in Forbes a few years ago as one of their self-made men who had made it big paying it forward. How can you not know this?”

  “Why would I know that? It’s not like I asked to see his résumé before I slept with him. I guess that explains his Armani suits and why he has no time for a life outside of work. I had no idea he paid it forward on that big a scale. I love that.”

  “Holy cow, Teg. He has to be really rich to have been in Forbes.”

  “Why do you sound awestruck? You and Cooper had more money than you could ever spend before Uncle Harvey left us his millions. It’s just money. It’s not like it can buy anything that matters.”

  “You’re right, but it feels like something you should know about the guy you’re sleeping with.”

  Tegan sat back on her heels and said, with a pang of unease, “It’s not like we’re dating. He doesn’t live around here, and he travels all the time. We’re just hooking up when he’s in town.”

  “Oh.” Cici sounded surprised. “I know you’re great with change and you don’t like to rely on anyone, but are you okay with that? It sounds very unlike you.”

  “It was my suggestion.”

  “Really? You talk a big game when it comes to men, but you’re sensitive, Teg. I worry about you getting hurt.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely going to get hurt,” she said, thinking about Jett’s text. Missing my benefits. He could have meant it flirtatiously, but he could have also been reiterating the line between them. The fact that he hadn’t texted since was a good indicator of his intent being the latter. “He’s charismatic and charming, but he’s also tough, as in he’s got thick walls around his heart. But I’ve seen what he’s like when he lets them down, and, Cici, I can’t stop thinking about—” Another call rang through, and Jett’s name flashed on the screen. “Holy shit. That’s him.”

  “I don’t like this, Tegan. You’re worth more
than occasional hookups.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t like it, and I love you for that,” she said hurriedly. “But I’m not Melly, and I gotta go.” She blew her sister a kiss, took a deep breath, and switched to Jett’s call, trying her best to sound relaxed. “Hey there, Armani.”

  “Hey,” he said angrily.

  There was a long stretch of silence.

  “Um…Are you okay?” she asked carefully.

  “Fine. You alone? Can you talk?”

  “Alone on a Friday night? What am I, a loser? Joey and Ross are keeping me company. Chandler’s in the kitchen with Monica at the moment, but…Oh! Here they are,” she said when they appeared on screen.

  Jett ground out a curse. “Go back to your party.”

  “My par…? You mean the television show? Oh my gosh, Jett! Haven’t you ever seen Friends?”

  “I don’t watch television.”

  “It’s on Netflix now, but really? Like never?”

  “Never. So…you’re alone, then?”

  “Yes. Why are you asking? What’s going on? You sound angry.”

  A moment passed before he said, “I’m not angry,” in a calmer voice. “I’m just…I don’t fucking know. I thought you might be out.”

  “Like on a date?” She remembered how jealous he’d been of Bryson and couldn’t resist needling him. “With Bryson?”

  “Fuck Bryson,” he growled.

  He was jealous! “Let me get this straight. You thought I might be on a date, so you called to sabotage it? To cockblock me?”

  “No. Yes. Damn it, Tegan, I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about you, and yeah, the idea of you fucking Bryson pisses me off. I told you I’m a prick.”

  “Jealousy doesn’t make you a prick. It makes you human.”

  “Then I’m used to being superhuman. This blows. I shouldn’t have called, but you’ve totally messed with my head.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” she said carefully.

  “It’s bad, believe me. I haven’t been worth shit all week at work. I just need to figure this out.”

  “What is this?” She sat back against the side of the couch.