I had no idea what had unglued Ian Kemp, but I knew I wasn’t the reason.
Fully dressed, I walked into the living room to see him sitting on his couch signing at the screen. His hands moved skillfully in conversation, the computer open toward him so I couldn’t see who he was conversing with.
Fascinated, I watched him for a few seconds.
He flashed a beautiful smile and waved at the screen before he closed it. Gray eyes drifted to me.
“Yes, Koti?”
“You know sign language. Wow.”
Cold eyes roamed over my damp hair and sundress before they landed on my face. “Yes.”
“That’s—’’
“So, you’re showered.”
I was being dismissed again, and just as rudely as the first time. I balled my fists, the New Yorker in me was ready to rip him to shreds. I pushed her aside for the moment to reason with him.
“Would it kill you to be decent to me? I know you’re going through a rough time, but would it hurt you so much to say one kind word?”
He pushed his computer off his lap and resumed the position he was in when I knocked on the door. Several seconds passed, I looked him over expectantly.
His lips barely moved. “I apologize.”
“You should,” I said without missing a beat, “sincerely and repeatedly.”
He lifted his head from the couch. The circles underneath his eyes ran deep. I doubted he’d touched a thing in the fridge. He’d drawn most of the curtains in the living room, so sunlight was scarce.
What happened to you, Ian?
“That’s none of your damned business.”
I’d said it out loud.
Crap.
“No, it’s not.”
“If that’s all…”
“Actually, it’s not. I’d like to extend a dinner invitation to thank you for the shower.”
His answer was immediate. “And I’d like to decline.” Moving to sit, he planted his feet on the floor while his hands gripped his hair.
“I’m sorry, Ian.”
He ripped his head free of his hands and turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”
He kept his eyes connected with mine as I took a careful step around the debris. “But your mother is worried, to the point she will probably show up here unannounced if you don’t call her.”
He frowned. “Tell her I’m fine.”
“But you’re not.”
“Again,” he said standing. “None of your business.”
“I get it, okay. I didn’t come here to fucking snorkel either.”
Surprised by my venom, he stayed mute. It seemed I had the floor for the first time since he arrived.
“A year ago, I showed up in the same shit shape as you.”
“You have no idea—”
I waved my hand in the air and cut him off, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “And that’s your secret to keep. I had my own reasons. Reasons that were just as personal to me.” People are selfish with their pain, but not their anger. I got it. I’d lived through it.
“I understand you right now more than you know, so just take a step back, okay? I’m not the enemy. I’m waving the white flag here. The dinner invitation stands. Seven o’clock. I’m a shit cook, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling.”
I made my leave without another word, relieved that he was capable of at least faking a smile for whomever he was on screen with.
Halfway to my Jeep I pulled my buzzing phone from my pocket and answered on the first ring. “Good morning, Rowan.”
Ian stepped out onto the beach in my line of sight before he disappeared down the shoreline.
“I just spoke to Ian. I invited him for dinner. I think he may come.”
“Oh? That’s wonderful news.”
“I was just at the house. It looks like the remodel is coming along.” Another lie. The next question was purely selfish. “He was on his computer signing with someone?”
“Oh good. He was speaking to Ella. His daughter, my granddaughter. She’s deaf.”
“Oh.” The smile he gave her was genuine.
“Okay, love, thank you. I was just checking in. I hate to bother you so much.” Her voice was sincere and apologetic.
“It’s fine, Rowan. Anytime.”
“Thank you, Koti.”
I inhaled the sea air as I gazed at the rolling waves. It once renewed my faith. I had no doubt they would work their magic on Ian.
Chapter Eight
Koti
I sat that night with candles lit all over my deck, freshly broiled fish waiting in the oven and a crisp salad spoiling on the porch. Ian was a no-show. I was surprised at my disappointment when he stomped on my white flag and even more flabbergasted minutes later, when the sound of a woman’s laugh filtered in the air before I heard the rumble of Ian’s voice. Hopping to my feet as the sun set, I blew out the candles and dashed inside in an attempt to save face from his rejection. From my upstairs porch, stretching my neck and body, I peeked over the side of the house to see Ian ravaging a woman in our large sand-filled alley. He was dressed in slacks and a light button-down and she was plastered to the siding, hidden under his tall frame. I heard her moan underneath him before her head tilted up heavenward, her eyes tightly shut as he whispered to her before lifting her skirt, his hands working beneath. Too intoxicated to look away, I watched him devour her as she gasped under his touch.
Face flushed I looked on, silently scorning the total pervert I was and felt a slight twinge of… something.
Jealousy?
For Ian? No, he was a dick.
A total and complete dick.
So much for s’more loyalty.
Mentally I picked up my battered white flag and tucked it back in my pocket.
Was I jealous of the attention the woman was getting?
Definitely. It was one thing to go without, it was another thing entirely to have it tossed in your face. I loved a good kiss, the whisper of a man’s lips on my neck. I was beginning to miss sex, but that was the most of it. I’d done long-term without the happy ending, short-term with the abrupt record scratch ending and more one-night stands than a girl should admit to. When you referred to the last guy you were intimate with as the one with the black-checkered tie, as I did, desire took a back seat to self-worth. I wanted the relationship with the next man to be a little more meaningful, but that would require commitment and I’d just gotten myself together.
Everything about my life in New York went fast.
My new focus was slow and meaningful.
Fighting with myself to look away; instead, I chose to drink in the scene below. Accusatory gray eyes met mine when I glanced back down at the couple and my face lit up in embarrassment. Ian ripped himself from her, his eyes still on mine. He was clearly drunk and staggered into his house with the woman in tow, slamming the door behind them.
I threw the untouched fish in the sink and grabbed a pair of silencing plugs from my nightstand. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
The next morning, Ian sat on the beach in nothing but swim trunks as I made my way out of the house for work. He barely glanced my way which was fine with me. I had nothing to say to him. At least I didn’t have to worry about false reports to his mother because he had finally joined the land of the living. Despite my best efforts to block Ian out, I was up half the night hot and cold, tossing and turning, with body aches.
I knew what was coming and had the pissy mood to match.
In a freshly purchased pair of flip-flops, with an iced coffee in hand, I walked toward my Jeep to start my day when he spoke.
“Have you talked to my mother?” He wiped the sand off his swim trunks as he stood. Ripping my eyes from his profile, lit by the early morning sun, I continued walking to my Jeep without a word.
“Oh, you are going to play hurt?” He barked at me. “I declined your dinner invitation. I was pretty clear.”
&nb
sp; I bit the inside of both cheeks and kept my feet moving.
“Could you at least tell her not to come?”
“Tell her yourself,” I said, throwing my purse into the passenger seat.
“Favor for a favor, Koti. I lent you my shower. This is not a difficult request.”
Facing him, I crossed my arms. “Why are you so afraid of your mother?”
Hypocrite.
I barely answered my own mother’s calls. My failures looked horrible on her face and were no less daunting over the line. Her “in my day” speeches suffocated me and had my whole life. The less we spoke the closer we got to middle ground.
Ian took a step forward. “She’s a mother. She asks too many questions.”
“Seems like you had no issue talking last night.” A single brow rose while he studied my face.
“Dirty boy, aren’t you? Tell you what. Why don’t you take your spoiled ass inside that house and call your own damned mommy.”
Screw babysitting, I would make it work. If Ian left, spoke ill of me to his mother, if I lost the commission, I would beg Jasmine not to fire me while I rallied for another property.
Ian took an aggressive step forward. “Not that it’s any of your business but I haven’t had sex with anyone but my ex-wife in fifteen years so I guarantee you if I sleep with anyone, it’s a well-deserved fuck.”
“Well, I hope you wrapped it up tight because we don’t need you multiplying your kind of crazy around here.”
His face turned to stone and his jaw ticked. “What in the hell did you just say?”
Ah, the angry South African Texan had returned. I’d done a fine job of ruining my twenty-four-hour truce. My father always told me before I entered any argument to go in with three justifiable points, or the battle wasn’t worth it.
Where Ian was concerned, I was good to go. “News flash buddy, number one, I’ve made more allowances than I should for your rude behavior. You have not once thanked me for the trouble I’ve gone through on your behalf to keep you in that house. Number two, which by the way, was fully booked when you decided to show up with your shitshow circus and has made my work days harder. Number three, not only that, I’ve lost more nights of sleep since you’ve been here than I have in a year! I said call your own mother, burn her house down, starve to death. I’m done watching over you. You aren’t worth the trouble!”
“What’s your problem, Koti. Are you jealous? Do you fancy me?” He asked, his tone unmistakably mocking as he took a step forward and then another until I was pinned to my Jeep. “I noticed you watching us.”
Feeling the blush creep up on my face, I chose to ignore the fact that he busted me.
“Jealous?” I scoffed as ice gray eyes slanted down and stunned me. “Do I fancy you? You think an invitation to dinner is a request for sex? Man, you have been out of the game for some time, old sport. You were an arrogant ass as a kid, but you’ve got one hell of an ego on you now, don’t you, crocky? What in the hell would I possibly have to be jealous of? Drunk sex with a hyena? I bet you can’t even remember her name.”
He glared at me openly.
“What did you call her when she left this morning, barstool number five with big breasts?”
Ian’s eyes instantly went to my chest before he glanced up and raised a brow.
“Oh, you’re disgusting.”
“Fine. I’m disgusting. AG Man!”
“What is that, more South African sailor?”
This time he jerked his chin back. “What?” He rolled his eyes in understanding. “It means—go away. And mind your own damned business.”
My eyes were trained on his lips as I pushed at his chest. “Stay on your side of the fence, asshole!”
“Fine by me.” He turned toward the beach and my feet began to move on their own accord as the last of my patience flew away.
“What is wrong with you? You can be civil enough to some lady at a bar to get her into bed, but you can’t show me any common decency? We were friends once.”
He barely glanced over his shoulder. “I hardly knew you.”
“Still, what in the hell is your problem with me? Because it has to be specifically with me, right? I mean you can smile for your daughter!”
His turn was sharp as he leveled me with one single look. The man was pure venom and anger and he was dragging me down with him. I could feel the panic in me start to rise and blew out a breath.
“Forget it! Just keep the noise level down on your side of the fence. Screw half of the island for all I care. But I live here. Remember that. I’m not leaving, so deal with it.”
His broad muscular back to me, he muttered his reply. “Not like I have a choice.”
My brain didn’t bother to tell my hand to stop when I drew wet sand from the beach and formed it into a ball, my limbs didn’t bother to slow at all as I tossed it full force at the back of his head.
PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder and sleep deprivation. When the two get together, sand bombs happen.
Ian stood with his back to me several seconds before he turned to look my way, his face covered in disbelief. I had a ready middle finger stretched out in front of me, the only sign I knew before I stomped back to my Jeep. He was still glaring at me from where he stood in the sand as I sped off.
Chapter Nine
Koti
The next few weeks were much of the same. The Kemp house was quiet. Too quiet. I never saw flashing TV lights in the living room or heard any more of his ranting. He would disappear for a few days on the weekends, which I assumed was when he went to see his daughter. Despite my resolution to give him his space, I knew he wasn’t improving. But I was gone during most of the day, never really having any idea what he did when I wasn’t home.
“You’re thinking about him,” Jasmine said as I took a bite of my salad. We were on the sun-covered porch of the Oak Hotel. They had the best salads and an even better view of the bay.
“I just keep wondering what happened.”
“Cheating.”
“No, he wanted the divorce. That doesn’t make sense.” I forked some chicken and looked out at the water. “God, I love days like this.” It was hot, but not to the point of being miserable. The breeze blew off the surface of the sparkling water yards away. Jasmine eyed the man who sat alone next to us and he smirked our way over his paper.
“God, you’re terrible,” I noted, glancing his way. His eyes met mine and I gave him a weak smile.
“I’m thirty-nine and single,” she said a little too loudly as I sank in my seat. “I want to live a little.”
“Oh, you’ve been living,” I said just as loudly and the guy belted out a loud bark.
She glared at me. “Just because you decided the house was your new convent doesn’t mean the rest of us are hanging it up.”
“I’ve been thinking about that a little lately and maybe it’s time to give dating a chance.” The man Jasmine had been eyeing was suddenly at our table. I looked up to him as he plucked his wallet from his back pocket. “Pardon my eavesdropping, but I’m actually glad to hear it.” He set down a card in front of my plate and I winced at the sun-filled sky behind him trying to get a better look. He was beautiful, with thick coppery brown hair and a strong jawline. I couldn’t make out his eye color. Casually dressed in slacks and a polo, he looked down at me with curious eyes.
“Patrick.” He held out his hand and I took it, stunned. “Koti.” Patrick looked to Jasmine with a smirk, which she countered with one of her own. “I’m Jasmine.”
“Nice to meet you both. Koti, I would love to take you to dinner some time.”
“Okay, Patrick Roberts,” I said eyeing his card. “But it will be expensive.” He bit his lip and winked. “And she brings me a doggie bag,” Jasmine chimed in.
He leaned down slightly, so I caught the amusement in his eyes—which were blue—and a hint of some intoxicating cologne. “I look forward to it.”
We both watched him disappear, fully confident in his walk. The man
had an ass and swagger to boot.
“That was bold. I bet he’s packing in the penis department.”
I choked on my water as she looked at me and shrugged. “And I’m just going to say right now, I totally thought he was staring at me. I may need my eyes checked.”
“He’s the one that’s blind,” I said, eyeing my best friend in her signature red dress. I’d been surrounded by beautiful people my whole life, but none of them shined quite as bright as the woman who held out her hand to me and picked me up when I was at my lowest.
“Stop doing that,” she said, popping a piece of bread in her mouth.
“Doing what?”
“She was beautiful, I’m sure, but it’s okay that you are beautiful too. Stop downplaying your looks to appease your mother. She’s not here.”
Mouth gaping, I jerked back in my seat. “Whoa, are we on the couch, Dr. Gersch?”
“Koti, I don’t think you realize how much you do it, but you are gorgeous. Case in point, that hot ass man wants to take you on a date and do the dirty.”
Our waitress grinned as she set the check down between us. “Sorry, I walked into that, but if I can be of any help to you, he had a black Amex. You really should call him.” The waitress made her leave as I stared at Patrick’s card.
“See,” Jasmine said with the nod of her chin. “Rich too.”
“I’ve dated rich and entitled. I’d rather date a man who has to work hard to buy me expensive wine.”
Jasmine tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because that would mean he would have to work for me, obviously.”
“Oh, as opposed to giving it away.” She threw her napkin on her plate.
“Don’t. This isn’t about the way you do things, it’s about what I want for myself.”
She darted her eyes around the table, a rare sign of the guilt she inflicted on herself for her random hookups.
“One day I will get over him.”
“You will,” I assured. “It’s okay to enjoy yourself.”
Beach Reads Box Set Page 266