How to Kiss a Bad Boy

by Ashby, Amanda

  Maybe they weren’t all bad?

  Not that he was going to any of the main beaches. There was a spot further along the bay that most people didn’t bother with because of the difficult access. It meant he’d get some privacy.

  He flicked on his turn signal and drove toward an empty bus stop. Except it wasn’t empty. A girl with poker-straight blonde hair was sitting there, long tanned legs hanging out from a pair of familiar denim cutoffs.

  Frankie?

  He checked again. Yup. Definitely her. As for why she was sitting at a bus stop at the wrong end of town, he didn’t have a clue.

  He jammed on the brakes and pulled over.

  “Need a lift?” He leaned out the window.

  “Jackson?” Her face rippled in surprise though she loosened her grip on the small purse in her lap. Not that he blamed her for keeping it close. This wasn’t exactly the safest part of Cricket Bay. Too near the Boards. She finally seemed to collect herself. “It’s okay. I’m waiting for the number eight.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t catch the bus much, do you?”

  “What’s that mean?” Her eyes narrowed, and she began to look more Frankie-like.

  “One of the joys of this part of town. The bus service is bad during the week. On a Sunday it’s nonexistent.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth pressed together. “Thanks. I’ll get an Uber.”

  “Sure. Because that’ll be faster than me driving you…unless you don’t want to get in a car with a bad boy,” he said, slipping back into the easy banter that had built up between them. It was safer. A reminder that they were work colleagues only.

  A smile hovered around her mouth as she stood and peered into the passenger seat, where one of Chelsea’s plush toys was sitting.

  “Here’s a tip. If you want to keep your reputation, you might need to lose the glittery unicorn.”

  “I knew I was doing something wrong.” He tossed the offending toy into the back seat. “You want a lift?”

  She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes clouded with indecision. “You don’t mind?” she said. He leveled his gaze at her, and she let out a small laugh. “Sure, thanks.”

  She walked around the front of the car, a soft breeze blowing strands of straight blonde hair against her cheek. He leaned over and opened the door for her. The car filled with the faint scent of strawberries and vanilla that always accompanied her. Her arms and legs were tanned, and her cheeks were flushed with soft shades of pink.

  He dragged his gaze away and waited until she was settled, then he eased back into the traffic and focused on the road. After all, he’d survived working with her in Rosie, he could handle this.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “Hammer Point,” she said, once again clutching the purse in her lap. Her lips pressed together like she was going to ask again if it was okay. She seemed to think better of it. “Just to the bus stop.”

  “Hammer Point?” he said before catching himself. Of course. Aaron Tremain lived out there. Almost next door to Sam Robinson from what he’d heard. No surprises. The irony had never been lost on him that to get to the most exclusive part of Cricket Bay, you had to drive through the worst part. Which was why she’d been at the bus stop.

  So why was she going there?

  Only one reason. It must’ve gone well at the party and she was making a booty call.

  Oh, hell.

  He almost let out a bitter laugh. Frankie was way too good for a loser like Aaron, yet somehow Jackson’d agreed to drive her there. Nice work.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Frankie commanded, as if reading his mind.

  “I wasn’t thinking anything,” he lied and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He turned down the coast road. The dark cobalt waves were tipped with white as they moved closer to the shore.

  “Good.” She primly crossed her long legs. Then she let out a sigh. “If you must know, I’m going out to see Aaron. I need to apologize for not making the party.”

  Really?

  He forced himself not to take his gaze from the road ahead.

  “Don’t tell me there was a hair disaster?”

  She let out a tiny gurgle of laughter. “Not exactly. Lo and Johnny got engaged and wanted me to go out and celebrate. I couldn’t really say no.”

  “Wow.” He let out a whistle. As a rule, marriage wasn’t something he knew much about, but he’d worked for Johnny since he’d left the construction site last year, and Lo seemed like good people. If anyone had a chance to be happy, they’d be good candidates. “That’s great.”

  And she’d missed the party. There was no reason why he should be pleased, but all the same he couldn’t help but smile.

  “It really is.” Frankie twisted slightly in her seat, and he glanced at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dimple had appeared. Yup. She was definitely happy.

  “So, where does the house call fit in?” he said.

  “He hasn’t replied to any of my messages, so I wanted to apologize in person.”

  “Okay.” He stared ahead, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut. Sure, they were getting on better, but he hardly wanted to talk boys with her. Next they’d be braiding hair.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to get the message.

  “I mean, it’s the polite thing to do, right?”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “Always good to be polite.”

  “I think so,” she said, though it was hard to tell if she was trying to convince herself or him. Then she let out a frustrated groan. “You’re a guy. Is it weird to invite him to a concert to make up for canceling last night?”

  “You want to go to a concert with him?” Jackson said before he could stop himself. But seriously? A concert? All because Aaron Douchebag Tremain hadn’t returned any of her calls? The world was so messed up.

  “That’s right. Summerfest. We were both talking about seeing the Waves live. I mean, that’s a great date, right?”

  “I guess. As far as grand gestures go, it’s big,” he said, not wanting to admit that the few dates he’d taken Tania on had involved a burger bar and a movie. Not quite in the same ballpark. And hey, for all he knew buying concert tickets was a regular date for rich kids like Aaron.

  “The way I figure, I need to go big or go home.”

  “Fortune favors the bold,” he added in case she needed another worn-out cliché. She lifted her hands in mock surrender.

  “Okay, you’ve made your point. Do you think he’ll hate it?”

  “I have no idea what guys like him think,” Jackson said truthfully. He’d never exchanged more than a handful of words with Aaron. Nor did he want to.

  “You sound just like Via.”

  Her best friend didn’t think it was a good idea?

  Interesting.

  “She must be very wise.” He finally turned. Her lips were parted, and the sun streaming in through the window tugged at her hair, as if trying to loosen it up.

  He tried not to notice how cute she looked.

  He failed.

  “Via’s just averse to taking risks. She doesn’t like surprises.” Frankie shrugged, as if that explained it. “So, if you have a car, how come you knew about the buses? I looked up the schedule, and it said they ran every half hour.”

  “They used to,” he agreed as the ocean flashed past them, a trail of blue and white. He could feel her looking at him, as if his answer wasn’t satisfactory. He sighed. “My mom had a cleaning job out this way.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize. Does she still have it?”

  “No.” His knuckles whitened, and he tried to keep his voice flat. “She was working in one of the McMansions overlooking the water. But some jewelry went missing. And they blamed her. They later found out it was a caterer who’d been up there for a party. She’d stolen from several other houses as well.”

  “What? That’s disgusting that your mom got blamed.” Her blue eyes flashed. “I hope they apologized when they gave her the job back. I don’t unde
rstand why they’d accuse her in the first place.”

  Because if you’re connected to Marty Lang, you’re no good.

  “Not exactly.” His voice tightened. Why was he talking about his family? “But it’s no big deal. She’s working somewhere else now.”

  Frankie opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more but then just folded her arms across her chest. It drew his gaze, and he swallowed. Eyes on the road, buddy. No good could come from looking there. He forced himself to focus, and they made the rest of the trip in silence.

  The long grass gave way to manicured lawns and towering fences, all rigged out with electronic gates, as they reached Hammer Point. The smaller houses were to the left, and on the right were the serious mansions, all looking out to the Pacific Ocean. Million-dollar views.

  The bus stop loomed into sight, but he kept on driving.

  “Hey, you missed it.” She let out a soft yelp.

  “I figured I’d take you there. That way if he’s not home then you won’t be stranded. So, what’s the address?”

  “Jackson…I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation. He got the feeling she hadn’t actually thought about what would happen if he wasn’t home. Frankie Hargreaves without a plan?

  “Then lucky you’re not asking,” he said.

  “But it’s your day off.”

  “You can buy me a coffee tomorrow.” He shrugged. “Now, you going to tell me the address?”

  She was silent as she tapped the screen of her phone and pulled up an app. “Okay, we’re going to 23 Sierra Lane. Take the next turn left. And thank you.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, trying not to look at her long legs. Who knew he’d ever be jealous of someone like Aaron Tremain?

  xxxx

  “Frankie, are you even listening to me?” Lo said the following morning as she handed over the trays of baking. Kenneth had called in sick again, which meant Lo was working double duty, baking and doing deliveries.

  “Totally listening.” Frankie dragged her gaze away from the entrance of the surf shop. Besides, Aaron wasn’t due to start work for another hour. She had some time. “The chocolate cake has coffee ganache in the middle, and the cupcakes are laced with orange essence.”

  “Hum.” Lo’s lips twitched, but before she could say anything else, an early customer appeared and let out a small gasp at the sight of the engagement ring on her aunt’s finger. Lo immediately presented her hand for closer inspection, leaving Frankie to start transferring the cakes onto the display stands, decorating them with the tiny white pansies Lo grew in the back yard.

  The important thing was not to panic.

  There’d been no answer when she’d rung the intercom at the imposing metal gate that protected the house from the outside world.

  She didn’t want to dwell on the fact Jackson had witnessed her humiliation. She was just grateful he’d been there to drive her home, as it hit her just how ridiculous her plan had been.

  Worse. Aaron still hadn’t returned any of her messages. It was like he’d fallen off the face of the earth. Or off the crazy glass balcony that jutted out from his house. Still, he was working today, which meant she’d be able to see him and apologize in person.

  “Okay, I’m heading back to the kitchen. Muffins wait for no woman. Just call if there are any problems.”

  “Will do,” Frankie promised as she finished putting the cakes away and started the rest of the food preparation.

  “Need a hand?” Jackson asked from somewhere behind her. Her nose twitched with his familiar scent of fresh air and pine. All earthy and natural. His wild curls were combed back into the rockabilly style, and yet another floral apron was wrapped around his lean hips. There was a faint layer of sweat on his brow from setting up the tables and chairs.

  It was almost a relief to see him back in the more constrained work environment rather than in his car, where he’d seemed different. Maybe it had been the hair, or the denim jacket?

  Or that he was sweet and kind when he didn’t have to be.

  She swallowed. “Would you mind setting the tables? There’s a clean pile of tablecloths by my purse.”

  “Sure,” he said as his eyes flicked to the back wall. He’d given her another adorable drawing that Chelsea had done, and she’d hung it up with the others. The tightness around his jaw relaxed as he scooped the lacy cloths up and walked back out and methodically set the tables.

  As he worked, a couple of tourists stopped and looked at him with interest.

  Frankie couldn’t blame them. A six-foot guy with slicked-back hair, muscular arms, and bottomless navy eyes didn’t quite match the soft pink exterior of the food truck. And yet somehow it made sense.

  It obviously made sense to the tourists too, and they walked over to ask about the menu before letting him lead them to a table. He returned with their order, and they were soon kept busy with a steady stream of customers.

  xxxx

  “Where did all these people come from?” Frankie complained later that afternoon as Jackson handed her yet another order. Three slices of Lo’s decadent ginger chocolate-layered cake, and a red velvet muffin. They closed in half an hour and things should have slowed down.

  “I think it’s a coordinated attack. They synced their watches.” He flashed her a smile and began to load teacups onto his tray while Frankie plated up the first cake. “Make hay while the sun shines.”

  She groaned. He’d taken to using clichés around her to counter her own. Now she was paying the price.

  “Are you going to be like this all summer?” She carefully dusted the plate with baker’s sugar before adding a squirt of cream and tucking a tiny marzipan rosebud into the center. Perfect.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he replied before leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. “I take it you want to go and find Aaron. I can hold the fort if you want.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said, annoyed that he thought he could read her. Even if technically, he apparently could.

  “Your call.” He shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. Was he offended? Then he lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Looks like the mountain’s coming to you.”

  She swung around to where Aaron was sauntering toward them. He was wearing another Waves T-shirt, and his blond hair was casually tousled. Man, he was good looking. Her heart pounded, and she resisted the urge to check that her hair was smooth. She just needed to act cool. Apologize for having to cancel and turn it into a cute joke. After all, even Jackson thought it was great Lo was getting married. No way could Aaron be mad about it.

  She plastered on a smile in preparation. But he didn’t look up. He just sat down at table six, at the far end of the awning. He obviously wanted some privacy.

  Fair enough.

  “Go get ’em,” Jackson murmured as she squeezed past. Her arm brushed his, and her skin prickled. Okay, so I’m a little nervous.

  She shook her arms to get rid of the unsettling sensation that Jackson’s touch had left behind. Then she stepped out of Rosie. Aaron was bent over, studying his phone, a smile tugging at his beautiful mouth. A smile. That was promising.

  “Excuse me, can you please take these plates? We’ve finished,” someone from table three said as she walked past. Frankie groaned. If she ignored them, she’d be as bad as Kenneth.

  “Sure.” She gave them a polite nod and picked up the first plate, using it to stack up the others. The silverware followed and they were left only with their teacups. As she worked, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on Aaron, who was still glued to his phone.

  “Thank you,” the woman said once Frankie was finished. She beelined for his table, before anyone else could stop her. The silverware slid around as she moved, but she ignored it. Almost there.

  “Hey—” she started to say just as someone swept past her in a rustle of pink fabric and hair spray. They threw themselves onto Aaron’s lap.

  Melissa Fields?

  She was a cheerleader who’d just fin
ished junior year, and as far as Frankie knew, she was dating one of Aaron’s teammates.

  “Oh my God.” Melissa covered his face in kisses, and his arms snaked around her waist. “Sorry I’m late. Parking was a nightmare.”

  “Just made me miss you more,” Aaron purred before kissing her neck. Melissa let out a soft giggle and lowered her mouth to his. Frankie’s jaw dropped.

  Wait. What was happening?

  How was it happening?

  Two days ago they’d been flirting together. Talking about their date. She’d bought Summerfest tickets.

  It wasn’t meant to be like this.

  Her hands shook as the plates and silverware fell to the grass with a thud. Heat rose to her cheeks as everyone turned to stare at her. The only ones who didn’t seem to notice were Aaron and Melissa, who were too busy exchanging saliva.

  Finally, they broke apart, and Aaron turned to Frankie and shrugged. “Sorry I haven’t returned your texts. I’ve been a bit…preoccupied.”

  “Yeah, well you can be preoccupied somewhere else.” Jackson was suddenly next to her. His arm almost brushing her shoulder.

  “It’s a free country.” Aaron didn’t seem perturbed by Jackson’s height.

  “Maybe, but it’s not a free table. It’s been reserved.” He coolly nodded to the small chalkboard that had been placed in the center of the table. He didn’t seem interested in adding that the party in question had been and gone.

  Aaron’s face darkened as he leaned over and murmured into Melissa’s ear. She giggled and they both stood up, arms still tangled around each other like some weird game of Twister. Then, without another word, they sauntered away. Most of the customers seemed to be following their progress, and Jackson quickly leaned down close to Frankie’s ear.

  “Go take a break. I’ve got everything under control.” His voice was a low murmur.

  “I—” She opened her mouth to protest but as her eyes prickled, she nodded. “Thanks.”