His Kind of Wonderful (Sugar Bay #2)

by Kinsley Gibb

  “The hell you say.” The face he made must have been something else because Derek laughed long and hard.

  He shook his head at his friend’s imitation of a braying ass. “Not cool, man. Not cool. I’m out.”

  Once out the door, Joe sighed in relief. It had worked out better than he’d thought. Now it wouldn’t be long before Lisa gave up her asinine attempts at seduction, especially when she realized he and Dani were serious. This was his last hope and it had to work.

  The important matter remaining was how to withstand temptation. Derek had faith in Joe’s sense of honor concerning Dani and Joe couldn’t let him down. Derek was correct in warning him away from Dani. The guy was no fool. He knew Joe wasn’t good enough for Dani and Joe knew it as well.

  But how the hell was he supposed to be around her more without wanting her? Wearing a blindfold would be too obvious and he didn’t think Dani would go for wearing a potato sack. Although that might not help anyway because he’d still see her gorgeous face, her hair, her laughing eyes and that smile.

  He shook his head—just thinking about her smile.

  He was fucked.

  That was all there was to it.

  ***

  “You’re a good boy, Joe.”

  He jerked awake, certain he’d heard Aunt Eugenia but knew it was his imagination. Aunt Eugenia wasn’t coming back and he wasn’t a good boy—not even close. He sprawled back on the bed and closed his eyes. The brush of her hand across his cheek had felt real. It had been her habit to stroke his cheek when she’d been alive.

  The fan clicked above him. The steady drone accompanied the sound of the waves from the Gulf as it rolled in beyond the dunes. He inhaled the salty air. By habit, he’d left the sliding glass door open because he loved the sound of the water so much. It was one of the things he’d missed while away. Maybe the wind had been the cause of his imagined ‘touch’.

  He tossed off the thin bed sheet and got up. It was still dark outside but he liked running at this time. He pulled on a gray pair of running shorts and an old Metallica t-shirt, then slipped on his shoes and tied them. He grabbed his music and selected a pulse pounding playlist before slipping on his ear buds. He made his way across the protective dunes and headed north.

  Joe inhaled the distinctive tang of the Gulf and ran past seaweed and the random dead jellyfish littering the shores near Aunt Eugenia’s cottage. Technically it was his but it shouldn’t have been. It seemed wrong to keep it but when he thought about contacting a realtor, something stopped him.

  Aunt Eugenia had been the one person in the world who’d believed in him and he’d let her down. He’d left her to die alone. Even though it felt wrong to benefit from her death, he loved the cottage. The majority of his best childhood memories were here. The others were from around the MacKinnon home.

  He picked up his pace. The sky had lightened and he nodded at the assorted early risers that walked along the beach. The photographer was scheduled to come by today but not until later in the afternoon. He was glad because it allowed him a few hours to work in his garage studio.

  Joe passed a family setting up camp for the day. The kids were building sandcastles with the white powder sand that made Sugar Bay famous. Their bodies were plastered in sunblock while behind them the dad anchored their shade tent and the mom unpacked their wagonload of beach gear. Sugar Bay had a brisk cottage rental business along the water so, no doubt, they were tourists.

  Sweat ran down his face and body, and made his clothes stick but he enjoyed the solitary time running provided. It allowed him to sort through the shit he needed to get done as well as work out any lingering problems.

  Sleep hadn’t come easily last night. He’d spent too long tossing and turning. Thoughts of Dani filled him. He’d texted her a reminder about the photo shoot and she’d responded to say she’d come after her appointment. Yet when he asked if her appointment was with Professor Perv, she hadn’t responded.

  Damn, he hated the way she got under his skin. The next few weeks would be tricky. Dani was prickly at best but he needed her cooperation. He couldn’t afford any distractions and was weak where she was concerned.

  He knew in order to be proactive about avoiding the temptation that was Dani, he needed to avoid touching her completely—no more rubbing her shoulders or trying to get her to relax and getting her used to his touch.

  Fuck that shit. Too dangerous.

  He knew if he touched her a little, he’d end up touching her more than a little, like the last few times. Each time had started out innocently and the next thing he knew he’d had less than innocent thoughts that bordered on the distinctly impure. He’d had to run off like a damn fool each time—first to fix her car, then to avoid staying for dinner.

  He was afraid all that touching would morph into him doing all the nasty things he’d dreamt of doing to and with her. Somehow, he didn’t think Derek would care for that at all.

  So the first line in his defense strategy was to avoid touching—at all cost. Then maybe he’d have a chance to last through the situation with his sanity and his friendship with Derek in tact.

  It was all crazy Lisa’s fault and she’d be here with the photographer today as the committee’s marketing liaison. The thought of her in his aunt’s house irritated the shit out of him. He slowed and stripped off his shirt. He tossed it on the sand then toed off his sneakers and socks and walked toward the water. He winced when he stepped in. It was April, they’d had warm days but some days were still brisk and the water was on the cool side. He moved deeper then dove into an incoming wave. When he surfaced, he swam along the shore to stretch and cool his body down.

  He loved the beach, had lived here with his aunt for most of his childhood. Sugar Bay was a great town and he saw that now as an adult, but as a child, he’d hated it. He’d hated the fishbowl aspect. He’d hated being stuck with a label that couldn’t be shaken.

  Maybe that was why his friendship with Derek was so important. Derek didn’t look at him as the snot nosed kid of the town loser. He didn’t remember him as the kid who wore cast offs, who’d depended on the generosity of others for holiday gifts or back to school supplies.

  When he was very young, he hadn’t minded it but then the teasing had begun. Then he hadn’t forgotten it. Although many kids looked past his clothes even if they recognized it as their old castoffs, some kids were born assholes and would probably die as assholes. They were the ones who took pleasure in loudly claiming their generosity. A brand new Members Only jacket was part of one year’s donations. It still had the original tag on it. Sure, the color had been different but he’d worn the thing proudly. At least until Tom LaCaze had boasted he’d donated it because his mom had bought the wrong color.

  Joe remembered burning with shame. He’d wanted to burn the damn thing but Aunt Eugenia hadn’t allowed him to. That episode spurred his entrepreneurial skills. He’d cut grass, walked dogs, anything and everything to earn extra money. Finally he’d made enough for a bike, which had been his ticket to freedom.

  Joe headed back to shore and dragged his ass out of the water. He grabbed his stuff and walked towards the boardwalk that led to the cottage. He set his stuff down next to the outdoor shower he’d rigged on his private deck. It wasn’t much more than a garden hose hooked up to a rain soaker but it had some semblance of privacy and allowed him to get the sand off so he wouldn’t track it inside.

  “Shit.” The water was colder than the Gulf and he hurried through his frigid shower. He dried off with a towel he’d left on the pegboard hooks he’d installed. With the towel knotted around his hip, Joe dropped his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and went inside for sustenance.

  His cottage wasn’t fancy, definitely not tricked out like many of the cottages around him, but it had everything he needed—it was old school, made mostly of wood with soft, cotton throws scattered about. The paint had long since faded but nowadays people called it rustic chic—a more kind term than old-as
-shit. But it was clean and paid for since the cottage had been passed down through his aunt’s family. It had taken the majority of his aunt’s pension to pay for the property taxes when he was a kid.

  He rooted through the refrigerator for some milk and eggs and made an omelet. Aunt Eugenia had been his mom’s maiden aunt. An artist with no husband or kids, she’d taken him in without a thought and had done her best to mother him. After life with his single dad where the only baked goods he’d inhaled had the name Little Debbie printed on them, he’d soaked it up, loved the homemade cookies, apple pies and cakes she’d concocted in her tiny kitchen. Maybe that was why Charlie’s Decadent Den was his third home. It reminded him of his aunt.

  Johnny James hadn’t been a bad guy; he’d just been weak. His good-looking face had given him advantages with the ladies, no doubt. But since he’d given his heart to his high school sweetheart, Joe’s mom, and had died when she’d died, he’d been pretty much useless thereafter. Johnny or JJ, as he’d been called, found comfort in whisky and women. It had been unfortunate his last choice in a companion already had a husband who happened to own a very large gun collection. The guy had taken exception to JJ banging his wife in his own bed and claimed self-defense. It hadn’t matter that JJ had been naked and the only thing he’d been pounding had been the female moaning in pleasure beneath him. The poor son of a bitch was shot and promptly labeled a deviant intruder by the remaining parties involved.

  The town had dined on it for years.

  Yeah.

  Life in a small town.

  Chapter Six

  Dani stopped Thelma on a shell-crushed drive in front of a little cottage. She’d never been to Joe’s place but had heard about it through Derek and Anabelle. Palmettos, Hibiscus bushes and Bougainvillea grew all around the cottage, which had a rustic appeal. She got out of the car and grabbed the yellowed notecard from the passenger seat.

  Life is too short to wait.

  The note had been tucked into the lunch bag that she’d picked up after her morning errands. Tyler was a sweet kid. If only he was older, she’d be all over him. He seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.

  The note was a sign. A green light for the plan she’d brainstormed last night. Life was short, no doubt, and she needed to tell Joe about her proposal. If he didn’t go for it, she’d find another expert.

  Last night during a documentary on clown fish and its relationship with sea anemone, it occurred to her that Joe’s problem could be beneficial to her. Joe needed a pretend girlfriend. Dani needed instruction regarding the mysterious matter of sex. Rumor had it Joe was quite knowledgeable.

  Maybe it was the fifth cup of coffee she’d consumed or the late night air but she’d thought it was brilliant—a symbiotic relationship where each party was helped through the same situation.

  Dani ignored the tremor in her hands, blaming it on the coffee rather than her sudden attack of nerves. The wind lifted her top and she smoothed it down. She’d forgotten how windy it could get along the beach. A gust whipped her hair into her eyes so she piled her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and found a pencil from her purse to hold it in place. The salt air would soon make her hair a wavy mess but there hadn’t been much time this afternoon to fuss with it. She was protective of her writing time and once she’d hit her word count goal, she’d showered and changed.

  Dani climbed the steps to the porch and took a deep breath.

  Life is too short to wait.

  She rang the doorbell. Seconds later the door was yanked open.

  “Thank God you’re here. What the hell took so long? I thought you’d never get here. Didn’t you get my text?”

  It took a moment for her to respond to his barrage of questions because Joe’s shirt was unbuttoned. When she’d last seen his bare chest, it had been from a distance. The view from her attic bedroom was no match for the view up close and personal.

  Oh my.

  “Dani! Are you listening?”

  “Huh?” She was glad she was wearing her new prescription sunglasses and even gladder she’d decided against the reflective aviator lenses. He would have known exactly what she was staring at. She was grateful her sunglasses allowed her to hide her eyes while she looked her fill.

  “Nevermind. Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”

  He put his hand on her back and guided her through the entry. The thin fabric of her shirt was no barrier. She tried to ignore the electric charge that zipped through her at first contact but must have jumped a little because he gave her a funny look. He didn’t pause long but kept moving her passed an open living space, a well-stocked kitchen to the spacious back balcony. The cottage wasn’t huge, but it was lovely—rustic with masculine touches sprinkled with the same blue that matched the gulf, along with shades of cream and brown.

  A small grey haired photographer dressed in black had set up a variety of equipment while a stylist arranged pillows and sheers on a swinging bed that had been installed from the rafters. The Gulf sparkled in the distance and was dotted with several boats—another beautiful day in Sugar Bay.

  Lisa stood with the photographer and they pointed to the laptop in front of them. Dani overheard words like, “mood”, “sexy”, and “increased exposure” but tuned them out when Joe grabbed her elbow and pulled her to the side.

  “Stay with me the entire time,” he said close to her ear.

  The photographer turned to them.

  “So you’re the girlfriend?” He looked her up and down with pursed lips. She wondered if he found her lacking and questioned what Joe saw in her.

  When she didn’t respond, Joe squeezed her hip. She nodded dumbly, still unaccustomed to their new status.

  “Maybe you can do something. Hunk, here, is not a natural in front of the camera. He’s stiff and uncooperative—“

  “I told you I wasn’t a model. We should scrap this whole thing and you can choose someone else.”

  “Absolutely not.” Lisa’s hands were on her hips. “The Ladies League were thrilled you agreed. They think you’ll pull in a good number of donations, Joe. Rumor has it, you know how to please a woman.”

  “What a load of crap,” the photographer muttered. “Rumor may have him as a bull, but these pictures show a constipated zombie.”

  Joe’s face paled then turned red. Dani smothered a giggle and got a glare in return.

  “I wasn’t feeling inspired.”

  “Well, get inspired then, I haven’t the whole day to waste.” The photographer pulled out a cooler. “Young lady, you need to take him in hand and relax him,” he gave her a pointed look, “if you know what I mean or I won’t get anything worth printing. I’ll be on my break until he’s feeling more ‘inspired’.”

  “Yes, well—“

  “Come on.” Joe tugged her from the room and shoved her into what looked to be his study. He locked the door behind them as if afraid they’d be disturbed. The walls were lined with shelves of books and a desk stood laden with drawings and more books. It seemed that Joe enjoyed reading. “This is a nightmare.”

  “What’s wrong? Feeling like a piece of meat? You know everyone who sees the pictures will be imagining you as their very own boy toy?”

  Joe shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little bit.” She walked further into the room and perused his book collection. He had an assortment of both fiction and non-fiction.

  He exhaled heavily. “If you’d just followed my lead, I could have written a check. But no—instead, you go off on a tangent and I’m stuck in this get up.”

  He motioned towards the low hung pajama pants and his lightly oiled chest.

  She grinned. “It’s just a few pictures.”

  “Pictures are all good and well but there’s something distinctly unappealing about being photographed while three strangers stare at you and coax you to ‘work’ it.”

  The fru
stration in his voice made her laugh. “Sorry, Joe.” She tried to put on her serious face. “I’m very sorry you’re having performance anxiety.“

  The look he sent her made Dani lose it completely and she hugged herself while she snorted and gasped. If she hadn’t been giggling like a maniac, she might have noticed that he’d moved from the door towards her with a glint in his eyes. As it was, it was too late to run by the time he grabbed her. She stilled while Joe held her by the elbows. Her smile died as she looked into his fierce golden eyes.

  “Since you got me into this mess, I think it’s only fair you help me find some sexy inspiration.”

  “I’m not exactly dressed to inspire sexy thoughts.”

  He looked down at her white cotton shirt, cut off jeans and boots. His gazed tracked the distance slowly; pausing at her V-neck t- shirt where the impressions made by two hard nipples greeted him. His gazed snapped to hers.

  She swallowed. Damn the thin cotton.

  His grin stopped her heart. “I think I can work with it.”

  She wanted to fan herself, but couldn’t move. He still held her by the elbows. She couldn’t believe she’d been the one to put that sexy grin on his face.

  He released her and moved to his desk. He leaned against it and motioned for her to stand between his legs. “Come here, Dani.”

  She released a shuddering breath but didn’t move.

  “Come on.” Said the spider to the fly, she couldn’t help but think. But just like the stupid fly, she went forward.

  “May I?” He motioned towards her hair. At her nod, he pulled out the pencil that held her hair in place. Brown waves of hair fell to below her shoulders.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Why do you always wear it up?”

  She shrugged. “It gets in the way. I’m thinking about cutting it off.”

  He glared. “Don’t you dare.” Joe shifted her closer and smoothed a finger down her cheek. “You’ve got the softest skin, Dani.”