Beach Bar Baby

by Heidi Rice

  With benefits. Gold-standard benefits.

  The phrase hung in the brisk morning air unspoken, but not unfigured out if the girl’s frank appraisal was anything to go by. ‘Do you know when he’s going to be back?’

  Hardly, seeing as I have no clue where he is.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Could you tell him I stopped by? I’m Sonny’s daughter, Josie, and I—’

  ‘Why don’t you come in and wait for him?’ Ella shoved the door wide, determined to make a fast getaway, before this situation got any more awkward. ‘I was just leaving.’

  Josie sent her a doubtful look as she stepped into the room. ‘You sure, I—’

  ‘Absolutely positive,’ Ella replied, grabbing her bag from the hook by the door and slipping past the girl, before she could ask any more unanswerable questions.

  ‘You want me to give Coop a message?’

  Ella paused on the porch, the clutching sensation she’d had as she fell asleep the night before returning. ‘Would you tell him thanks?’ She cleared her throat, the stupid clutching sensation starting to squeeze her ribcage.

  For being a friend when I needed one, she added silently as she jumped off the hut’s porch and her feet sank into the wet sand.

  Josie called out a goodbye and she waved back as she set off down the beach. But she didn’t glance back again. Knowing it would only tighten the band squeezing her chest.

  She’d had an amazing night. Maybe she’d gone a little off piste from Ruby’s plan—and discovered the liberating powers of flirtation, soca dancing, Rum Swizzles and sweaty, no-strings sex in the process. Okay, make that a lot off piste.

  But it was all good.

  Give or take the odd heart murmur.

  * * *

  ‘Up you get, Sleeping Beauty, breakfast is served.’ Coop bumped the hut’s door open with his butt, keeping a firm hold on the tray his housekeeper had piled high with freshly sliced fruit, French toast, syrup and coffee. It had taken Inez a good half hour to assemble everything to her exacting standards—and quiz him mercilessly about his ‘overnight guest’—during which time he’d got stupidly eager to see Ella again. Enough to question why he hadn’t just woken her up and invited her to his place for breakfast.

  The fifteen-acre estate that overlooked the cove, and the two-storey colonial he’d built on the bluff, were a symbol of who he was now. And he was super proud of it—and all he’d achieved, after ten long, back-breaking years of dawn wake-up calls refurbing second-hand equipment, long days spent out on the ocean running back-to-back dives, late nights getting his brain in a knot at the local community college studying for his MBA, all while keeping a ready smile on his face to schmooze a succession of tourists and corporate clients and bank managers and investors.

  His business—Dive Guys—had made its first million-dollar turnover five years ago, and he’d celebrated by buying himself a brand-new motor launch, and the beach hut he’d been renting since his early days with Sonny. Three years later, he’d expanded the franchise across the Caribbean and had finally had enough to invest in the construction of his dream home on the land he’d bought behind the hut. He’d moved into Half-Moon House two years ago—but still couldn’t quite believe that all those years of work had paid off in a wraparound deck that looked out over the ocean, five luxury en-suite bedrooms, a forty-foot infinity pool, a mile of private beach and an extremely nosey housekeeper.

  Normally, he loved showing the place off to women he dated.

  But when he’d woken up with Ella cuddled in his arms, he’d decided to keep the place a secret until after he’d finessed Inez into cooking a lavish breakfast for his overnight guest.

  There had been something so cute and refreshing about Ella’s breathless enthusiasm when she’d got a load of his first place the night before. She wasn’t the only woman he’d brought to the hut, but she was the only one who had appreciated its charm and overlooked the used furniture and lack of amenities.

  For some weird reason it had felt good to know all she’d seen was him—not Dive Guys, or the things it had afforded him.

  ‘That looks real tasty, Coop. You shouldn’t have bothered, though—I already grabbed a crab patty up at the Runner.’

  Coop swung round, nearly dropping the tray, to find Sonny’s daughter, Josie, perched on one of his bar stools. With her long legs crossed at the knee and a mocking smile on her lips, she should have looked all grown up, but somehow all he ever saw was the fresh kid he’d met a decade ago and who had made it her mission in life to be a thorn in his side ever since.

  ‘Josie, what are you doing here?’ He dumped the tray on the counter, sloshing the coffee all over the French toast, as he took in the empty bed in the far corner, and the empty couch where he’d folded Ella’s clothes into a pile not more than thirty minutes ago. ‘And where the hell is Ella?’

  Josie’s grin became smug as she snagged a chunk of fresh pineapple off the breakfast tray. ‘So that’s Sleeping Beauty’s name. I always wondered if she had one.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ he said without heat, used to Josie’s teasing.

  ‘She’s very pretty. But kind of shy. Not your usual type.’

  ‘Where is she?’ he asked again, not happy at the news that Josie had met her. Somehow he didn’t think someone with Ella’s insta-blush tendencies would appreciate being caught in his bed by a smartass like Josie. ‘Please tell me you didn’t say anything to make her bolt.’

  Josie sucked on the pineapple, shaking her head. ‘Uh-uh. She bolted all on her own. Seemed kind of spooked that you’d disappeared.’

  He ran his fingers through his hair. Damn it, he’d only been gone a half-hour and Ella had looked totally done in. After the workout they’d both had last night he would have bet she’d be comatose for hours yet. The thought had him eyeing his uninvited guest. ‘You woke her up, didn’t you, you little...?’

  He made a swipe for Josie, but she leapt off the stool and danced out of his reach, laughing. ‘What’s the big deal? You don’t date the tourists, remember? In case they get ideas.’

  Not Ella.

  The thought popped into his head, and had him stopping dead in front of Josie—the quest for retribution dying a quick death.

  What was with that? Sure Ella had been sweet, and eager and inventive in bed, but how had she got under his guard so easily? Knowing what he did about tourists who liked to slum it in neighbourhood bars, how come he had never thought of Ella as one of them? And why had he crept out of bed and harassed Inez into making her breakfast? He didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Not since... He stared at the ruined toast, the creeping sense of humiliation coming back in an unpleasant rush of memory.

  Not since the evening of the junior prom in Garysville, Indiana, when he’d stood like a dummy on Amy Metcalfe’s porch, his neck burning under the collar of the borrowed suit, and a corsage clutched in his sweating palm that had cost him ten of his hard-earned dollars, while Amy’s old man yelled at him to get lost, and his prom date sent him a pitying smile from the passenger seat of his half-brother Jack Jnr’s Beemer convertible.

  ‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here?’ Josie stared at him, her usual mischief replaced with excitement. ‘I’ve got news.’

  Shaking off the unpleasant memory, he clamped down hard on the dumb urge to head out after Ella. ‘Sure? What news?’ He tossed a piece of papaya into his mouth, impressed with his own nonchalance.

  The smile on Josie’s face reached ear-to-ear proportions. ‘Taylor popped the question last night and I said yes.’

  ‘What question?’ he said, trying to process the information while his mind was still snagged on Ella and why the hell she’d run out on him. Wasn’t Taylor that pimply kid Josie’d been dating for a while?

  Josie’s eyes rounded. ‘Damn, Coop, even you can’t be that dumb. The “Wil
l you marry me?” question. Duh.’

  Coop choked on the mango chunk he’d just slung in his mouth. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’ His eyes watered as his aggravation over Ella’s sudden departure was surpassed by horror. ‘You’re way too young to be getting married.’ Plus marriage was for chumps—and Josie was a smart kid—what was she thinking?

  Josie whacked him hard on the back, dislodging the chunk and nearly dislocating his shoulder. ‘I’m twenty,’ she said, indignantly. ‘Taylor and I have been dating for four years.’ She propped her hands on her hips, striking the Wonder Woman pose he knew meant she was about to start lecturing him. ‘And we love each other. Marriage is the obvious next step. So we can think about babies.’

  ‘Babies!’ he yelped, as a blood vessel popped out on his forehead and began to throb. ‘You cannot be serious?’

  ‘Just because you’re dead set on being the Oldest Player in Town,’ she countered, ‘doesn’t mean everyone’s that cynical and immature.’

  ‘I’m immature?’ he snapped. Seeing her flinch, he struggled to lower his voice, and regain some of his usual cool.

  But damn it, first Ella’s disappearing act, and now this? Had all the females in Bermuda been hitting the crazy sauce while he slept?

  ‘Honey, I’m not the one planning to get hitched when I’m still in college.’ Not to mention have a parcel of rugrats. Was she nuts?

  The look she sent him went from pissed to pitying. ‘Why does the thought of that terrify you so much, Coop? Maybe you should try it some time yourself?’

  ‘What? Marriage? And kids?’ he scoffed, barely suppressing the shudder. ‘No way.’

  ‘Not that, not yet, but...’ Josie searched his face, the pitying look starting to annoy him now. ‘Couldn’t you at least try dating the same woman for longer than a week?’ Her eyes shadowed with concern. ‘Haven’t you ever thought there might be more to women than just hot and sweaty sex?’

  ‘Damn it, give me a break.’ He slapped his hands over his ears. ‘Don’t talk to me about that stuff—my ears are bleeding.’ He’d never kept his dating habits a secret, but Josie butting into his sex life was just wrong. On so many levels.

  She glared at him. ‘So who’s being immature now?’

  He dropped his hands, having to concede that point. ‘Fine, you win that one, but conversations about sex are off limits, okay?’ The last thing he needed was some snot-nosed kid giving him dating advice.

  ‘Okay, truce.’ She surprised him by backing down. ‘I’ll butt out of your business. You’re a hopeless cause anyway.’ She sighed, to emphasise the point. ‘I didn’t come here to argue with you, I came to tell you Taylor and I want to set the date for August tenth. If you’re good with us using your land to do the ceremony on the cove near the Runner?’

  ‘Sure, of course, no problem,’ he said, feeling about two feet tall all of a sudden. He hadn’t meant to piss on her parade; the wedding announcement had just come as a shock, that was all. How the heck had Josie grown up without him noticing?

  ‘I also wanted to ask you to be my witness,’ she added. ‘If you think you can contain your horror long enough to sign the book?’ The shadow of uncertainty in her gaze shaved another foot off his stature. Hell, he hadn’t meant to be that much of a grouch.

  ‘You sure you want the Oldest Player in Town there?’ he murmured, relieved when she sent him a cheeky grin.

  ‘Only if he promises not to hit on the bridesmaids.’

  The thought of hitting on anyone brought back thoughts of Ella. And the pang of regret sliced under his ribs. She had to be long gone by now.

  He raised his hand as if taking a mock oath. ‘I do solemnly swear not to hit on the bridesmaids.’

  ‘Cool, we’re all set, then.’ Josie grinned, then planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. ‘I’ll keep you posted on the wedding plans. I better hit the road, though.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You have no idea how much work goes into organising a wedding in under four months.’

  And he didn’t want to know, he thought silently, but decided to keep that information to himself.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said as she reached the door. ‘Sleeping Beauty left you a message before she ran off.’

  ‘Yeah?’ The bubble of hope expanded under his breastbone. ‘What message? Did she tell you where she’s staying?’ Maybe if she had, he could give her a call? Get Inez to make a fresh batch of French toast, or better yet some lunch?

  Josie shook her head. ‘She just said to tell you thanks.’

  ‘That’s it?’ The bubble of hope deflated, making his voice sound flat and dull.

  Josie nodded, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. ‘If you wanted to contact her, Henry might know where she’s staying if she was at the Runner last night. You know how talkative he is.’

  ‘No, that’s okay, it’s no big deal,’ he replied, and willed himself to believe it.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He forced out a laugh. ‘Sure, I’m sure. Not my style.’ He didn’t get hung up on women, even ones as cute and sexy as Ella. ‘Oldest Player in Town, remember?’

  Josie rolled her eyes again. ‘Oh, yeah. How could I forget?’

  But after Josie had left, and he had dumped the ruined breakfast spread in the trash and collapsed onto the bed, the joke nickname didn’t seem all that funny any more. Especially when he got a lungful of the light, refreshing, lemony scent and the earthy smell of sex that still lingered on the sheets.

  SIX

  Ella plucked the tray of Triple Indulgence Brownies out of the industrial oven and dropped it gingerly on the counter—her tummy hitching up towards her throat as the aroma of melting chocolate surrounded her. The rich decadent scent tasted like charcoal on her tongue. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she sliced the brownies into twelve chunks, perched the tray on the window sill to cool, and rushed into the café, her stomach wobbling alarmingly.

  Taking deep, measured breaths, she berated herself and her stupid nervous tummy as she stacked the batch of mini-chocolate tarts she’d made earlier—which thankfully didn’t smell too strongly. Ruby would be here any minute and the last thing she needed was more searching looks and probing questions from her business partner—because she’d barfed all over the shop again.

  She’d been tense and out of sorts for weeks. Ever since she’d got back from Bermuda and got the diagnosis she’d been dreading from her doctor, Myra Patel. That she was no longer ovulating at regular intervals—which explained the now five months without a period—because the onset of premature menopause was now a reality.

  But she thought she’d come to terms with it. Or at least found a strategy to deal with her loss. Even though her biological clock was now ticking at triple time—and Myra had told her that her chances of conceiving naturally were probably remote, and getting remoter by the second—she had referred her to a specialist. Plus she and Ruby had discussed the feasibility of other options, when and if she found a life partner.

  The good news was, after her wild night with Coop, there was every reason to be a lot more cheerful about her prospects when it came to relationships. Or at least sexual relationships.

  Coop.

  Her stomach clutched and released, the queasiness returning.

  Maybe it was about time she admitted that her fertility problems weren’t the only thing that had had her down in the dumps? That her nervous stomach wasn’t just a symptom of her stress over the test results she’d got from Myra two months ago, but also her ridiculous overreaction to her one night with Cooper Delaney.

  Somehow, she’d got fixated on him, picking over every minute detail of their day and night together—instead of assigning the experience to its rightful place in her past, and moving on with her real life.

  So what if he’d disappeared the following morning, without leaving a note to say
where he’d gone? They’d had a one-night fling. He’d owed her nothing. They lived thousands of miles apart, and he was only twenty-eight, for goodness’ sake. Not that their age difference had bothered him... Then again, maybe it had, more than he’d let on. Could that be why he’d disappeared so abruptly? Before she’d even woken up? Without bothering to say goodbye?

  She folded the oven mitt she’d used into the drawer and slammed it shut.

  Stop right there, you’re doing it again.

  The hollow feeling of inadequacy opened up in her stomach, and the weary ache in her chest pinched her heart.

  Maybe if she had left him a note...

  She sighed and glanced up to see Ruby and Cal standing together on the pavement outside the shop—bidding each other goodbye as they did every morning before Cal headed for the tube station and his work as a top defence barrister in the City. The hollow weight became a gaping hole as she watched them.

  Ruby threw her head back and laughed at something her husband had said. Callum said something else, that seemed to make her laugh more, but then he gripped the lapels of her coat and jerked her up onto her tiptoes, before silencing the laughter with a hungry kiss.

  Ella felt the nasty dart of envy as Ruby’s arms wrapped around Cal’s neck to pull him closer. The kiss heated to scorching, Cal’s hands finding Ruby’s bottom beneath the hem of her coat. Anyone passing by would have mistaken them for newlyweds, instead of a couple who had recently celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary and had three very energetic children ranging in age from two to six.

  Ella dropped her chin, and concentrated on rearranging the cookies on the display, feeling like a Peeping Tom as the nausea pitched and rolled in her belly. The doorbell tinkled, then the creak of the café door opened and slammed shut followed by the click of Ruby’s stilettos on the tiled floor.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ll close up today to make up for it.’ Ruby’s voice sounded upbeat and pleasantly mellow, as it often did first thing in the morning. Ella frowned, dusting icing sugar over the tarts. Hard to remember now that her business partner had once been the biggest grump on the planet until she’d downed at least two cups of coffee in the morning, but that was before her fender bender with Callum Westmore nearly eight years ago.