Bayside Desires (Bayside Summers Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  “I didn’t get blown off. She’ll get in touch, but it won’t be for a booty call.” Rick ground his teeth together, hoping Desiree wouldn’t prove him wrong. There was no way he’d misread the sparks between them, and she definitely wasn’t the type of woman who made booty calls, much less the type of woman a guy slept with and forgot. Hell, he’d spoken to her only once and she’d stuck like glue in his mind.

  “Not a booty call, and you’re still interested?” Dean arched a brow.

  Rick ignored the comment. He wasn’t a player, but he didn’t feel the need to correct their misconception of his private life. He was busy with the resort, handling his own business remotely, and spending time with family. He knew they assumed he was into one-night stands because women hit on him often and he’d sometimes meet them for drinks, but he rarely slept with them. At thirty-one, he wasn’t just out to get laid, and since he was set to return to DC when the renovations were complete, he also wasn’t scouting for a girlfriend. There was no denying he’d spent more time than he’d like to admit thinking about what it would feel like to thread his fingers through Desiree’s hair, to kiss her incredibly sexy lips and feel her gorgeous, naked body beneath his. But he’d given equal time to wanting to know more about her, and it had been so long since someone had captivated him enough to slow down and think that way, it had taken him as much by surprise as it was taking Dean.

  They slowed to a walk, pacing the beach in front of the resort as they cooled down.

  “You saw what happened when I first noticed her,” Rick finally answered. “I couldn’t look away. It was insane. And she’s even more beautiful up close, but it’s not just that. She’s sweet, and careful, but not weak or timid. She speaks her mind, but she’s not bitchy or snarky. She’s just…different.”

  “Sounds like the quintessential girl next door. Not exactly the type that goes for a bull in a China shop. Which explains why she didn’t text you last night.” Drake was a year and a half older than Rick, and calm as a stream, while Rick rolled more like white-water rapids. “If she’s really that sweet, maybe you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  Rick dropped to the sand and pumped out a quick set of push-ups, then took a knee and squinted up at his brother. “I can’t explain it, but she’s the only tree I want to bark up, and for all I know, she’s leaving town today. I was an idiot not to get her number.”

  “I have to admit,” Dean said. “That got me when you said you gave her your phone number but didn’t take hers. Where’s the sense in that?”

  Rick started another set of push-ups, and Dean dropped down beside him, matching his efforts. Dean had about twenty pounds of muscle on Rick, short brown hair, and serious eyes. He always looked like he was ready for a fight, but having been a trauma nurse for years before turning to landscape architecture, he was one of the most patient guys Rick knew.

  “I don’t know,” Rick said. “I could kick myself in the ass for it, but I know she’ll call.”

  Drake jogged up to the path, craning to look at something, which Rick guessed was probably Serena arriving at work. Serena Mallery had grown up with their younger sister, Mira, and she was the temporary manager of the resort. “When you get lonely because she doesn’t, you can join us. Dean and Serena and I are going sailing tonight.”

  “No, thanks.” Rick hadn’t been on a sailboat since they’d lost their father in a sailing accident when Rick was fourteen. Drake had been riding his last nerve this summer, nudging him to get back on a sailboat. Give Rick a powerboat, water skis, a Jet Ski, or just about any other floatation device and he was fine. But he couldn’t think about stepping foot on a sailboat without painful emotions bombarding him. It had almost caused him to refuse the opportunity to buy into the resort. Although Rick had followed in his father’s footsteps as a high-end builder and investor, he’d escaped the painful memories of his father’s death by starting his business in Washington, DC, and he hadn’t been back for more than a few short visits each year. He had been on the fence about returning to the Cape for an extended period of time, but Drake had been persuasive, and Rick had never been one to pass on a solid business investment.

  Drake’s brows slanted in disappointment. “Then just remember, as an owner, you can’t fraternize with the female guests.”

  Rick scoffed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and hiked a thumb at his brother. “Listen to this guy. He practically drools over Serena day in and day out and he’s telling me not to fraternize?”

  “She’s not a guest.” Drake flashed a cocky smile. “And I don’t drool over her. She’s a pain in my ass half the time.” He took his shirt off, hung it over his shoulder, and headed toward the resort.

  “That’s why he’s going straight to the office with his shirt off,” Rick said as he and Dean pumped out one last set of push-ups.

  “He lives above the office,” Dean reminded him.

  He gave Dean a yeah, right look.

  “I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt,” Dean said as they headed up to the resort. “The same way I’m not giving you hell about going after the super-sweet girl.”

  “I wish I could go after her. I have no idea where to find her, but thanks for having my back.”

  They stopped to stretch on the lawn in front of the resort. Rick had built properties up and down the East Coast, and though Bayside Resort was less elegant than some, it was a spectacular sight. An array of cottages flanked the recreation center they were renovating, and the pool and tennis courts were just beyond, opposite the office.

  “The rec center is coming along nicely,” Dean said. “I finished the plans for the gardens around the patio, and the materials should be in soon.”

  Rick and Drake had almost finished the interior renovations, and with any luck, they’d have the entire project wrapped up in the next few weeks.

  “You sure you still want to go back to DC next month?”

  He’d asked himself the same question several times over the past few months. Somewhere on his path to success he’d gone from designing and building gorgeous homes to managing a multi-million-dollar business. It was a refreshing change to get his hands dirty again. In some ways, his time at the Cape had been a much-needed reprieve. Ever since one of his partners had gotten divorced, he’d been too sidetracked to bring in his share of the revenue, which meant Rick and their other partner had to double down their marketing efforts. Rick and Drake might not always see eye to eye, but their arguments were a piece of cake compared to the mounting discontent between his partners. Rick had little patience for drama, and every trip back to DC had brought him closer to the breaking point. The trouble was, being back on the Cape meant standing on the blade of a double-edged sword. He’d gotten a good dose of the family and friends he missed, but seeing them had stirred painful memories.

  “Yup, still DC bound, as planned.”

  “That sucks. It’s been great having you around.” Dean elbowed him, nodding in the direction of the pool, where the soaking-wet dog Rick had been trying to catch was trotting toward the bushes. “Looks like your visitor is just leaving.”

  “Shit. He’s mine. I’ll be back.” Rick took off running.

  DESIREE SANK DOWN to the comfortable couch in the living room and tucked her feet up on the cushion beside her, talking with Violet about their conundrum and trying not to think about Rick. She had tossed and turned all night. Every time she’d closed her eyes, he was right there, luring her in until she’d picked up her cell phone, debated sending him a text, and chickened out. Repeatedly. She’d hoped to talk with Violet last night and make a plan about their mother’s businesses, but by the time Desiree had realized Vi had come home, the sexy sounds coming from behind her sister’s bedroom door had kept her from knocking.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s a few weeks of your life, Des. Is that really too much to ask? You’re a teacher, so you have summers off anyway.” Violet sat cross-legged on the Oriental rug in the middle of the living room, her hands in praying
position, head bent slightly forward, eyes closed. Her black tank top hung loosely off her heavily inked shoulder, her coal-black hair was tousled, and she still looked sexy as hell.

  Vi was a vixen. A girl with no inhibitions. She did what she wanted, when she wanted to, without worrying about repercussions. As long as I’m not hurting anyone else, why does it matter? That was her moral compass. She was definitely their mother’s daughter. Whereas Desiree was guided by right, wrong, and the firm decision not to become her mother.

  And at the moment she was a little jealous of Vi’s ability to let things like this roll off her back. How much easier would it be to live stress-free like her?

  “The big deal is that she lied to us. I thought she was dying. Do you have any idea how hard it was to go forty-eight hours thinking the mother I hardly know might be terminally ill?” She didn’t bother addressing her summer schedule. It was true that she didn’t teach during the summers, but she liked to catch up with friends, visit her father in Connecticut, and come up with new ideas for the next school year.

  Violet pushed to her feet and stretched her arms over her head. “I know exactly how that feels, only I had to live with it for five days before I got here. And it wasn’t Lizza I was worried about.”

  A spark of guilt hit Desiree. She had been pleasantly surprised that her sister had rushed to the Cape for her, even if she had also been annoyed with their mother for using her as an excuse.

  “Then why didn’t you return my emails? Or call and ask me what was going on?” Desiree hated confrontations, especially when her feelings could get hurt. She escaped into the kitchen, spilling coffee on her tank top in her effort to try to outrun the uncomfortable emotions. She set the mug on the counter with a clunk, soaked a dish towel, and scrubbed at the stain.

  “I was traveling.” Violet leaned her butt against the counter.

  “That is not a reason. It’s…I don’t know what it is. Is it easier to travel that distance and worry than to pick up a stupid phone? Seriously, Vi. One phone call is all it would have taken. It’s like you don’t see how you’re just like her, or how frustrating it is for me to try to deal with you two.”

  “Don’t be so high and mighty.” She snatched the dish towel from Desiree’s hand and added a spot of dish soap, surprising Desiree when she began scrubbing the stain. “You’re like her, too.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m the antithesis of her.”

  Violet laughed. “Sometimes I forget that you really don’t know her.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Desiree snapped.

  Violet stopped scrubbing, her shoulders slumping. “We’re fighting again. We’re always fucking fighting.”

  Desiree shifted her eyes away. She hated when Violet used the F-word. “Is it any wonder? We don’t know each other at all, we’re nothing alike, and we’re bonded by a mother who wanted nothing to do with me.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away. “It doesn’t matter why you didn’t call. What matters is that we’re stuck, and I’m not dumping this place on you.”

  Violet set the dish towel on the counter. “I don’t mind doing it myself. It’s not like I have a great life to go back to.” She crossed her arms, erecting the barrier she’d honed as a child. “I broke up with my boyfriend, which was why I didn’t call. I wasn’t exactly in a good mental place.”

  Guilt wound through Desiree. She set her hand on her sister’s shoulder, fighting the urge to pull it away. She was an affectionate person by nature. She and Emery hugged all the time. How could it be so hard to touch her own sister?

  Violet moved out of reach.

  At least she wasn’t alone in her discomfort.

  “I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend,” Desiree said. She’d always assumed Violet wasn’t into commitments of any kind, like their mother. “I’m sorry. Were the two of you serious?”

  “As serious as I can get. I really liked the asshole.”

  “Then why did you sleep with that other guy last night?” Desiree had heard the guy leave at around four o’clock in the morning, when she’d been lying awake, still thinking about Rick.

  Violet gave her an incredulous look. “To forget Andre, of course.”

  “I don’t get that at all, but I’m not judging you. I just…” Can’t fathom doing it. “I don’t understand how having sex with someone else helps you to forget how much you like a person.”

  “No, little sister. I don’t imagine you would,” Violet said, full of snark and attitude, as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re too good. The proper preschool teacher, who always says and does the right thing.” She shook her head and sipped her coffee.

  “I’m not too good for anything,” Desiree said angrily. “I curse, and I do the wrong thing.”

  Violet lifted her eyes. “Mm-hm.”

  “I do.” She stormed across the kitchen. “I say ‘shit,’ ‘damn,’ and ‘hell’ sometimes. And I say…” She couldn’t get the damn F-word out of her mouth.

  “Fuck?” Violet offered.

  “Yes, that one. Exactly.”

  Violet laughed.

  “And I do the wrong thing. Just last night I got a guy’s phone number, and on the way to the Cape, I ran a red li—”

  “Hold up!” Violet set down her coffee and held her hands up. “You got a guy’s phone number? Like a stranger? For a hookup?”

  “No, not for a hookup, and yes, a stranger. Well, he wasn’t exactly a stranger after he told me his name. He was nice. A little pushy, but really hot, with linebacker shoulders and eyes like liquid fire. And he got me so wet.” She sounded embarrassingly breathless.

  Amusement rose in Violet’s eyes. “Wow, you go, sis. He got you so wet, so you slept with him?”

  “No! Geez, Vi.” She felt her cheeks burning, but she was still reveling in the endearment. Violet had said it so easily, as if she’d called her sis her whole life. “He got me wet, as in he splashed me, or his Jet Ski did. You saw me last night. I was soaked. He’s one of the owners of the Bayside Resort.”

  “Savage or Masters?” Vi asked.

  “Um. Is that sex talk? Because I’m not into those things.”

  “Boy, do you and I need to spend some time together. Last names. I met Drake Savage and Dean Masters at Undercover, that bar down the road, when we were here for Grandma’s funeral. They were both smokin’ hot, and nice. Pretty low-key. Your type of guys.”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Desiree went to answer the door. “Why does everyone think I need a nice guy? I have no idea what his last name is, but he was hot.” She pulled open the door and was greeted by the broad back of a shirtless man.

  “Your goddamn dog keeps—” The guy spun around with a scruffy wet dog in his arms, dirt on his knees, and daggers in his eyes, which quickly morphed to surprise and then something much darker.

  Something that made Desiree’s pulse skyrocket and her knees wobble.

  Lust. Definitely lust.

  “Rick?” She didn’t usually care for sweat, but damn. He was even more staggeringly handsome than she remembered, angry eyes and all. And that layer of perspiration heightened the definition of his glistening muscles. With a body like that, the man should be bronzed.

  IT TOOK RICK a second to grasp that he was staring into the beautiful eyes of the woman he’d been thinking about for hours and to get out from under the annoyance of chasing the dog. He’d had to get down on his hands and knees and make the tsk-tsk-tsk noises his father used to make to get their dog to come to him. He’d forgotten all about that noise until then. And now he’d forgotten why he was standing on Desiree’s front porch, but he was glad he was.

  “Desiree. You’re staying here?”

  She looked nervously at the pretty tatted-up brunette beside her, who was watching him with the same catlike green eyes as Desiree, only harder. Much harder. “Yes, for now.” She fidgeted with the fringe on the hem
of her white shorts. “Rick, this is my sister, Violet.”

  Violet lifted her chin. “How’s it going?”

  “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You seemed pretty pissed off.” Violet crossed her arms. “Problem with the dog?”

  He glanced at the dog. Oh, right. The dog. “Sorry. Your dog has been going into the pool at the resort. I’ve been chasing him for half an hour.”

  “We don’t have a dog,” Violet said flatly.

  “You sure? His collar says he’s yours.” He leaned forward so Desiree could read the collar. She leaned right in, smiling and loving up the pup. If only he’d had a dog with him last night, maybe then she would have gone out for that drink. Her hair fell forward, covering one eye as she read the tag. His fingers itched to run through those long, silky golden locks. He tightened his grip on the pup to keep from doing so.

  “He’s not ours, but according to the tag, he lives here and his name is…” Desiree looked at Violet. “Cosmos.”

  “Jesus,” Violet mumbled under her breath. “Of course it is. Cosmos brought us together?” She laughed, and Desiree covered her mouth, but her sweet laughter bubbled out anyway.

  “What?” He was obviously missing out on something.

  “Cosmos,” Desiree said through her laughter, and doubled over at the waist. “She’s so flipping crazy.”

  Violet laughed harder. “The fucking dog brought us together?”

  Rick couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m totally confused.”

  “Join the party,” Desiree said. “Oh, gosh.” She shook her head, hiding her laughter behind her hand again. “I’m sorry. It’s our mother. She’s—” She pointed at her head, making circles with her index finger. “It must be her dog, but we didn’t even know she had a dog.”

  She reached for Cosmos, and as he handed him over, he covered her hand with his. She blinked up at him through long, thick lashes, giving him that innocent look again. Damn. That look made his stomach go squirrely.

  “I’m sorry he went in your pool.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her if he’d wanted to. “I’m not.”