Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  “All right.” I attempted another sip of the coffee.

  “But if you change your mind, just say the word, boss, and I’ll have Entertainment Now, the Gossip Channel, anyone you want ready to air your side of the story. We can work this in your favor. I know it.”

  “There is no my side of the story. Just find out how to end this shit.” The longer this carried on, the more sympathy Becs was stockpiling.

  “Got it. Hey, how is it, where you are?” Rick hadn’t asked my whereabouts in the last few phone calls.

  I realized that he wanted that one piece of information above everything else. “It’s beautiful, man. I’ll catch you later.”

  I didn’t give him another chance to pester me. I ended the call and placed the phone on the table.

  I had worked five straight days at the store, and now I had two off in a row. It felt strange to sit in the camper with nothing to do. The waves were breaking hard and the wind was blowing.

  I stepped out onto my sandy patch of yard and took in the scene. I had to shield my eyes from the sun. Man, it was bright and hot even with the breeze.

  “Hey, stranger.” I heard Alice before I saw her.

  “Hey, Alice.” I smiled and raised my coffee cup to her.

  The pink bikini wasn’t as wild as some I had seen her in.

  “You’ve been a busy guy this week, haven’t you?” Her arms were loaded with a beach chair, bag, and towel.

  “Yeah, I took a job at the general store in town. This is my first day off.” I took a sip of the coffee and peered at the surfers taking the waves head on.

  “Day off? I bet you could use some sun. Some time on the beach, huh?” She ran her tongue over her red lipstick.

  One of the surfers took a nosedive in the center of a wave. I watched him pop back up with a smile on his face. “Actually, I’m going to do some surfing today.”

  “Surfing?” She sounded shocked. “Oh, I bet you look all hard and chiseled in a wet suit.”

  I swallowed the coffee and fought the urge to laugh. It was all so comical how blatantly she threw herself at me. “I don’t know about that, but I thought I’d give it a try. It’s been awhile.”

  I wasn’t going to tell her the last time I surfed was for my role as a spy who arrived on an island by surfboard. I would keep that tidbit to myself.

  “You have a good time, and if you come down to this part of the beach I’ll wave.”

  “All right, Alice. Thanks.” I watched her sashay toward the row of sunbathers camped out on the beach for the day.

  Sure, it was a spur of the moment excuse, but I was pretty stoked that I had come up with it. It was the perfect day to hit the waves.

  ***

  “Welcome to Wave On, how can we help you?” The girl behind the counter couldn’t be more than sixteen. Exactly the demographic I needed to stay away from.

  I was feeling more comfortable about my residence on Brees Island. But after Rebecca’s article two days ago, some of that contentment I had built as Jake the writer was gone.

  I pulled my hat over my eyes and focused on my feet. “I wanted to get a refresher on surfing. I’ve done it before, but it’s been a few years. Is there someone who could give me a quick rundown on the breaks and waves, and then I’ll take it from there?”

  She was staring, definitely staring long and hard. I was going to be pissed at myself if I blew everything because a fifteen-year-old identified me.

  “That sounds like something we could totally do. You should go out with Derek. I think he’s free. He knows like everything.” She turned and opened a door behind her. “Derek!”

  “Yep. I’m here. What’s up?” I recognized Derek as the clerk from Davis General Store. The clerk who had created a job opening for me.

  “This guy needs a lesson or like kind of a lesson. Like maybe you could just take him out.” She started re-braiding her hair. I was no longer worried she knew who I was. She might be the one teenager who couldn’t pick out One Direction from a lineup.

  “Hey, I’m Derek.” He stood by the counter.

  “Jake.” I shook his hand. “We kind of met at Davis. You used to work there?”

  “Five years I did. But this is a better situation.” He wiped dark bangs off his forehead. “Surfing is better than stocking shelves and sweeping floors.”

  “All right.” I didn’t need all the background. I was just making conversation. “Do you think you could take me out? I’ve surfed before, but I’m rusty. It was a few years ago. Just fill me in on the best spots. I’ll be good from there.”

  “Oh yeah, man. Let’s go.” Derek led me over to the rack of surfboards. “Pick out your board and meet me on the beach.” He turned and walked behind the teenage girl.

  There wasn’t much to choose from. I reached for a white board, tucked it under my arm, and exited through the same door Derek used.

  I remembered my first time surfing on the set of Spy Cross. I had approached the board like all other tasks—something I could tackle with athleticism. I didn’t know it would be such a humbling experience. It took me almost a week before I could stand on the board, and then another few days before I felt confident enough for the director to start shooting scenes with me upright. They almost called in a stunt double, but I was determined to find my balance on the waves. I didn’t need a double. Most of the scenes were shot as close-ups, but I was still proud I had learned to surf so quickly.

  “You ready?” Derek greeted me by the surf.

  I felt the waves lap around my ankles. “Yeah, let’s do it.” I gripped the board and waited for him to give me the rundown on Carolina waves.

  ***

  It was almost sunset. I sat in the sand watching the waves wash through the pilings of the pier. The surfing didn’t come back to me as quickly as I wanted. I had spent the entire day wrestling with the board and the waves, but it felt good. My head was clear.

  My lungs surged with the salt air, and my muscles ached with exhaustion. It was a damn near perfect day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Chelsea

  I listened to the old timers in the corner. “Sure is. Sometime next week’s when I expect her to make landfall. Write it down.”

  “Last summer we didn’t have much in the way of storms. Bound to catch up with us. You’re probably right.”

  The men went back and forth talking about one of the tropical storms that had been named on the news. I hadn’t bothered to turn on the television. I knew I would hear everything I needed to right here at the store.

  It was Sunday and my favorite day to be at work. It was hard to explain, but there was a certain serenity that descended on the island on Sunday, and it even found its way into the general store. The fishing boats still went out and tourists still flocked to the beaches, but the flow of the island slowed to an easy pace.

  I knew the men would rock in the chairs and sip at least two cups of coffee before leaving the store. They spent their Sunday mornings in the same corner while their wives were at church. I pulled a scrap of paper from my apron and flattened it.

  I had started a song in the shower, and slowly the body of it was unraveling on the paper. These were the days I wished I had my guitar with me. If I had the chance, Sunday mornings would be the perfect time to write.

  I looked around for Jake. It was fun writing with him on my porch. He mainly tossed out ideas I had to squash, but that was part of the fun. I had never laughed so much with my guitar in my lap. He reminded me that it was supposed to be fun. Not everything could be emotional and reflective all the time. It starts to take a toll if the lyrics deplete you. With Jake around, it felt like the lyrics were breathing new life into my soul. It energized me like it never had before.

  When he had arrived this morning, he smiled, said hello, and immediately started sweeping from the corner of the store. It was the first time I had seen him since the dinner at my parents’ house. Since the hug. Since I melted in his arms in front of the kitchen sink.

  I work
ed six days a week to make up for the money I had to repay my father. Everyone else put in five. That meant Jake was gone for two days. Two long days.

  Was it normal to miss someone you didn’t know well? I sighed, knowing the answer was no. Nevertheless, there was something about him that I was drawn to. When he wasn’t around, it was noticeable that the air wasn’t as calm, that I wasn’t as steady.

  “Hey.” He strolled to the register. How did he appear like that? It reminded me of a vampire in one of the books I was reading. He showed up when the girl least expected it.

  “How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” I asked, looking at his new sunburn. The bridge of his nose was red. Secretly, I had wanted to hear from him over the weekend. Paul had another bonfire, and the thought crossed my mind to invite him. For once, I was trying to take things slow. When we were alone, the brakes were unlocked and things spiraled before either of us could catch our breath.

  “Good. Spent some time on the water. How about yours? Write anything new?” He smiled as if he was sharing a secret with me.

  “Actually, I’m working on something now. Want to take a look at it?” I twirled the paper around so he could read it. I had never so readily handed over my lyrics before.

  He scanned the paper. “This is good. I like it. Maybe even better than the one from the other night.”

  “Really?” I blushed. How could anything be better than the other night? My back on the kitchen table, buttons flying everywhere—yeah, that was amazing.

  “It sounds a little darker, like you’re coming from a deeper place. Finish it.” He handed me the paper.

  He said it like I could do it in five minutes. I intended to finish all of the songs, but it didn’t work that way.

  “I will. Hey, I was thinking about sending in the one you helped me with.”

  “What do you mean?” He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket.

  “I’ve been trying to get a contract with one of the labels in Nashville or Austin since I graduated. Every week I send in at least one—sometimes more than that.” I didn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed by how high the number was. It grew each week.

  He leaned on the counter. “And do you know anyone at the labels? How do you know someone gets them?”

  I scrunched my face. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought of that before. “No, I don’t know anyone. I wish I knew someone. But eventually, they’ll land in someone’s hands who loves them. I just have to keep sending them.” I was new to the game, but I had researched all of the right contacts at the labels. Every week I switched up my pitch letter before sending another email. It was tedious and sometimes felt like a useless exercise, but it was the only avenue I had.

  “But, that’s a crap shoot.”

  The words stung a bit. I thought he understood the publishing and discovery process. Wasn’t it the same routine he had to go through with agents and publishers?

  I shrugged my shoulders. “What other options do I have if I don’t know anyone in the business? I believe in my songs.” I was annoyed. “Do you have some advice that will land me a big record contract? Do you know a huge star who wants to sing my music?”

  He placed one foot behind the other and backed away from the counter. I instantly regretted being such a big mouth. He was always so good at helping me brainstorm. I wanted him to stay longer, but he had a way of ducking out before I got all that I needed.

  “Good luck with your music. It’s great stuff.” He winked before disappearing into the hallway. He was probably headed to the rental booth. People loved to paddle on Sunday mornings.

  I sighed and looked at the words on my page. Well, that was a disaster.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ben

  I kicked a log over with my foot as the flames rushed toward the stars. The work at the store was easy, but at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was sit outside with a cold beer, listen to my favorite music, and see how big a fire I could build. Somewhere on that list, I wanted to add spending time with the girl who had pretty blue eyes, but it seemed best to keep things light with Chelsea. I wasn’t here for all the strings that came with getting attached to a girl like her.

  I couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in the baggage that came along with the Ben Baldwin package.

  I tipped my bottle back. I knew she was waiting for me to ask her out. The hints were there. I also knew spending time with her could only lead to one thing, and if we both were willing… I shook my head, imagining a night alone with her. It would complicate things. Light was best. No drama.

  I smiled thinking about how her nose crinkled when I threw out suggestions for her songs. She was damn cute. Every time I saw he spitfire side, I had to fight the urge to pull her close and kiss her. That wasn’t good.

  Today was her day off from the store. It didn’t feel the same when she wasn’t there. Whenever I had a break, I found himself wandering to the register to see what words had popped in her head. Instead I’d find Bertie waiting with a to-do list.

  I imagined Chelsea spending the entire day cocooned in her hammock, hatching song ideas. There was no doubt she was talented. I couldn’t write a greeting card, much less a song. But I knew she had that special something. When she sang her words, it was like witnessing someone who had figured out how to trap lightning shards in a bottle. The words never left me—they stuck in my head. I was afraid they weren’t going anywhere.

  I tossed another piece of driftwood on the flames. If I helped her, it would mean calling in a few favors. They would be small favors, but it involved reaching into the pit. Why did she have to have dreams that took her in that world?

  The bottle was empty. I walked into the Sand Dollar to grab another. I had the next two days off in a row, and I planned to finish the case I brought home with me. I wished it didn’t bother me so much that I was going to go three days without seeing her. Three days was way too long. I considered stopping by the store tomorrow to say hey. I could pick up some more beer and steal a smile.

  The wind had picked up and every once in a while, instead of reaching high, the flames from the fire whipped sideways. One of the customers at the store had mentioned a storm was off the coast, but everyone had their fingers crossed it would blow on by and miss the island.

  I made a mental note to check the radar in the morning. Maybe it meant bigger waves. I might be hitting the surf again tomorrow.

  ***

  I woke up to Silver Sand Dollar rocking every few minutes from a big gust of wind. It howled at the corners. I rubbed my eyes and strolled to the bay window.

  I had never seen anything like it. The white caps were wide and high. I wasn’t the only one who had thought about surfing. The ocean was dotted with daredevils.

  I scratched my head, considering plans for the day.

  The camper door sounded with heavy pounding. “Jake! You in there?”

  I pulled on the lever. “Good morning, Carl. How are you?”

  The old man steadied himself on the door and climbed up the stairs. “Not too good. Look’s like we’re going to have to evacuate the campground.” His pale eyes filled with concern.

  “What?” The skies were gray, but it didn’t look that bad.

  “Yep, weatherman’s calling for her to hit tomorrow night. I can’t take a chance with people getting blown away out here. You’ll have to leave the island and come back when she’s all gone.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and offered me one.

  “No, no thanks. I don’t smoke.” I hoped to God he didn’t light up inside the camper. “Does that mean everyone on the island is leaving? How did it get so bad so fast?” I had overheard one of the clerks at the store yesterday making jokes about the bread and milk rations, but I didn’t think much of it until now.

  “She must have hit some warm water. Changed over from a tropical storm to a hurricane overnight. Now she’s coming straight for us so it’s best if you pack up and head inland. As long as the b
ridge doesn’t get wiped out on the other side, you can come back over when the ferry service is up and running again.” He patted me on the back.

  I tried to think through my options. I didn’t want to leave Brees Island, but I had never been in a hurricane. I still knew enough to understand that the Sand Dollar wouldn’t be a safe place to stay.

  “When do I have to leave?” I had no interest in packing my things in the duffle bag and driving west.

  “Mandatory evacuation for nonresidents through tomorrow morning. My guess is they’ll run the ferry all night to get people off the island.” Carl had a hand on the door. “I’ve got to get the word out to everyone else, and then start securing the place.”

  “Do you need some help?” I offered.

  “I don’t want to keep you. You need to get moving.” He wasn’t convincing.

  “I can leave later. Let me help you, please.” I didn’t know what storm prep entailed, but I figured Carl and Flora couldn’t do everything alone.

  He paused in the doorway for a minute. “All right, but I want you to make the ferry tonight.”

  “No problem. I can do that.” I hoped that sometime in the next twelve hours the storm would change course and I could stay. I would help as long as I could, and buy some time in the process.

  Carl smiled. “Get some clothes on and meet me at the office. Flora will have plenty for you to do.” He turned. “Thank you.”

  I looked down and realized I had opened the door half-dressed. I laughed. “Will do. Tell Flora I’ll be down soon.”

  He hobbled out of Silver Sand Dollar.

  I turned on the television overhead, and my eyes widened as I saw the circular shape of the storm hovering in the Atlantic Ocean. What in the hell? Across the screen in big letters was the name of the storm: Hurricane Campbell. I shook my head and turned for the shower.

  ***

  Flo had given me specific instructions for tying the campers down. It was a useless effort if the winds were going to be as strong as predicted. But Carl wasn’t going down without a fight. There were a few scrubby oaks along the backside of the campers, and I looped the heavy rope through the branches before hooking it to each carriage. I had a feeling a wind that strong would rip these poor trees right out of the sand, but there weren’t a lot of options out on the beach like this.