Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale)

by King, Asha

  Bryar swiped sweat-damp hair at her forehead. The chilly autumn air brushed against her skin, making her nipples now painfully hard. “That was...yeah.” She blinked, unable to find words.

  “Good?” he offered as he scooped up her T-shirt and handed it to her.

  “Good. Yes. That’s one of but many words I’d use.” She fumbled her way into the T-shirt, some dirt and leaves falling from it. It might be on backwards. She didn’t care.

  Sawyer wiped his chest off with his own T-shirt, rolled it into a ball, and then slipped the button down on over his naked torso before tucking himself back in his boxers and jeans. He retrieved her jacket for her as well. She should probably put her shoes on at some point but that would involve moving from her position slumped against the tree at her back and seemed like way too much effort.

  “If you want to give me your phone, I’ll program my number into it?” he offered.

  Shit. She didn’t even have a cell phone. “It’s, um, not on me. Give me yours anyway? I’ve got a good memory. Or I will. In a minute. When my head clears.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin and went to slip his shoes and socks on.

  She supposed that meant he wanted to see her again. Right? So it wasn’t entirely a one night stand-against-a-tree handjob kind of thing? She wasn’t even sure where he lived, if his sister’s place was even remotely in this area or if he’d be back again.

  When she thought she could move again, Bryar found her sneakers and got them on, then at last her leather jacket. Her bra was still sticking out the sleeve, so she stuffed it in her pocket instead. Her brain seemed to be working again, so she had Sawyer give her his number, and repeated it back twice so she was sure it was locked in her memory. There was a pause of silence afterward, like maybe he expected hers in return, but she didn’t want him calling and getting the aunts. They’d just pester her with questions.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she really thought he was going to call her.

  Parting after what had just happened seemed odd, like she didn’t know what to say. Hey, thanks for the orgasm. Let’s do it again sometime. Instead she just stared at him, words caught in her throat, until he closed the distance between them and leaned down to kiss her.

  Their lips pressed together said what she couldn’t on her own, the kiss long and passionate, leaving her breathless.

  “I’ll see you,” she managed afterwards.

  He raised his brows and quirked a grin. “I hope so.” Then after a brief kiss to her temple, he backed off and headed in the direction of the beach.

  Bryar’s heart fluttering, she turned and swiftly headed along the trail home, practically skipping like a giddy school girl the whole way.

  Chapter Five

  First official day of work.

  Bryar still grinned stupidly at the thought. Well, maybe there were other reasons she was stupidly grinning, but none she was willing to admit to herself. It wasn’t like there’d be a repeat of last night or as if that was going anywhere. Sure, she had Sawyer’s number but she wasn’t sure she’d call. And she didn’t give him one in return—how lame was it that she didn’t even have a cheap prepaid cell phone so had no number to give him unless she wanted him talking to her aunts? To be realistic, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d have called her even if he had the number. He seemed to like her, but that was last night. No telling what the next day would bring for him.

  Still, she felt good. Relaxed. Happy. Wishing for more but determined to keep her focus on work today and nothing else.

  She’d made a quick breakfast and skipped out before her aunts were up and about so she could be at Gina’s early. Her boss—seriously, weird to apply that word when Gina was her age and more co-worker-like—was at the shop between five-thirty and six most days since she did the baking. She’d wanted Bryar there by eight-thirty so she could go over basic duties, and then it would be on-the-spot training when it opened at nine. That particular day she’d work until one or two in the afternoon—it would depend on how busy things got—and then her next shift would be Monday afternoon when she’d learn about receiving orders.

  Come winter, she’d probably have to break down and tell the aunts if only to have access to the family’s single vehicle on particularly snowy days, unless she hit a rainy day before that. Perhaps rather than just saving for an apartment, she should be planning to get a cheap car. Although living in town would forgo the need for a vehicle.

  Or I could just sleep in my car. She snorted at the thought. Besides, she was getting ahead of herself. She had to keep the damn job first before she was going to get paid for it, and that meant getting her ass there on time.

  She was at the shop by twenty after eight. The bakery was dark out front and the closed sign hung over the door, so she went around to the back. The gravel parking lot was empty but for a couple of “RESERVED FOR EMPLOYEES” spots behind some of the buildings, included Gina’s, and she found the kitchen light on. A brief knock at the door produced Gina, bright and chipper with her hair tied back under a kerchief and pink apron dusted with flour. She let Bryar in, showed her where to stow her coat and purse, and immediately went over the basics. Where everything was, the store policies in case of inquiries. Proper packaging of orders. Operation of the cash register and debit machine. It was a lot to take in—by the time Gina turned the sign to “OPEN” at nine, Bryar’s head felt stuffed full and at any moment the knowledge might come rolling out her ears.

  But Gina simply smiled reassuringly. “You’re just shadowing me right now,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything on your own. It’ll come to you as you go.”

  If you say so. But Bryar simply smiled in return and said nothing, despite starting to wonder if super nice Gina had just made a horrible mistake.

  An hour later, she mused that it didn’t seem all that bad. Gina let her ring up her first order on her own by then—a patient customer who understood immediately that she was new—gently guiding her through the process until the transaction was complete and Bryar suddenly felt like she’d cured cancer and world hunger with the happy ding of the cash register.

  By noon, she had a standard order Gina had prepared to deliver down the street at Lady in Red, the clothing shop. The shop’s owner, an elderly woman named Mrs. Lowe, had suffered a stroke some months ago and her granddaughter mostly ran things now. Still, Mrs. Lowe hung out in the shop and played cards early afternoon with some of her friends in the back, and Gina said they were expecting their cookies. Pre-paid, no money to worry about, just a delivery. It was the granddaughter she dealt with when dropping them off, who looked confused until she saw the box with Gina’s logo, and then Bryar was off to the bakery again for her last hour.

  She walked swiftly along the sidewalk, her leather jacket pulled tight around her. Maybe she should pick up a different coat while making deliveries at work. Her black slacks were better than the jeans she normally wore with it, true, and her thick black curls were tied back so she hopefully looked proper, but leather tended to intimidate people in this town unless it was on car seats or expensive boots.

  A few people cut her looks as she walked. Others outright stared. What the hell? Did she look that out of place downtown? Bryar frowned and tried not to glower back. It wouldn’t do Gina any good to be associated with an employee who told town busybodies to fuck off, but it was pretty damn tempting.

  When three teen girls waiting for Midsummer’s only town bus started giggling as she walked past, Bryar decided she either had something stuck to her butt or she was just paranoid.

  She really hoped for paranoia.

  Back in the bakery she passed a trio of customers, gave Gina a little wave, and hung her jacket in the back and replaced it with an apron before returning to the counter again. She only vaguely recognized the three women—she thought one of them, dressed in an expensive suit, might’ve been someone she dropped a resume to the day before—but they each looked at her critically. None said anything, simply accepting a box from Gina in exchange
for cash and then exiting the store.

  “Any issues with the Lowes?” Gina asked.

  Bryar shook her head. “The granddaughter kinda wondered who the hell I was, but figured it out quick.”

  “She’s run ragged trying to keep the store afloat and take care of her grandmother,” Gina said with a sigh. “It’s the same thing I see with Brennen and his grandfather, only times ten—Brennen at least hires caregivers to help out. I don’t think Raina can.”

  The kitchen door in the back opened and closed, and a moment later Gina’s husband stepped into the main area of the bakery.

  The shop was by no means small but felt cozy with the groupings of shelves and counters; Brennen Prescott’s presence, however, made everything seem that much more tiny. He was tall and muscular but without being too broad, always impeccably dressed with even his most casual clothes being top of the line. Dark brown hair hung in neatly trimmed waves and his blue eyes sparkled as they fell on Gina.

  Bryar shifted a little awkwardly as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder and kissed her forehead in greeting, turning her gaze away. Sure, they weren’t overly smoochy and gross with the PDA, but still, it was...it was the envy that burned her a little. Pretty people with their pretty perfect life. She reminded herself that Gina’s life had been far from perfect, but it seemed pretty damn great now from where Bryar was standing.

  “Hi Bryar,” Brennen greeted her warmly, moving to stand on the other side of the counter from them and leaning his elbows on the glass. “How’s your first day?”

  She hadn’t entirely realized he even knew her name, but then of course his wife of all people would’ve told him about the new hire, and who else would be standing behind the counter? “So far so good, I think.”

  He was staring at her, still grinning.

  Something turned unpleasantly in her stomach and she looked from him to Gina; Gina was frowning at Brennen, so whatever was going on, she didn’t know either.

  “Is there something on my face?” Bryar said at last.

  Brennen’s lips twisted, like they were fighting an even bigger grin. He pulled out his cell phone and dragged his thumb across the screen. “Turns out you’re famous.”

  He turned the phone her way.

  She and Gina leaned over the counter, shoulder to shoulder, to peer at the screen where a video started. Voices giggling and water splashing and then—

  Oh my God.

  There she was in the water. With Sawyer. Naked. Granted, there wasn’t much to see with the dark water up to their chests but they were awfully close, moonlight over their faces as they were about to kiss.

  Heat crawled up her cheeks and Bryar swallowed dryly. “Well, I mean, I’m hardly the first person to go skinny dipping in Midsummer—surely there are more explicit videos out there than mine.”

  “Do you know who that is?” Brennen asked.

  Gina was still leaning over the phone frowning. “He looks familiar...”

  He turned the phone back and tapped the screen until another image popped up. “So you were at a bonfire last night?”

  “Yeah.” Bryar drummed her nails on the counter, that twisty feeling in her gut still going strong. “Just a normal thing. Usual people, mostly, except that guy.”

  “One of the girls posted this to Instagram.” He showed Gina and Bryar the photo.

  There was nothing explicit about this one—just Bryar and Sawyer sitting on the log talking, beer in hand. Sawyer had that sexy little grin on his face, one that immediately made her heart flutter stupidly.

  “And that girl has around eight thousand followers,” Brennen continued. “One of them recognized him and it went viral after that. It’s been shared twenty thousand times so far this morning.”

  Bryar blinked at him. Sure, she didn’t do the whole social media thing—she tried to have a MySpace page as a kid and Aunt Donna had grounded her for three weeks. But that was a lot of sharing.

  “Wait a minute,” Gina said at last. “Is that...?”

  Brennen nodded, still grinning. “Sean Philip Sawyer.”

  “Uh...” Bryar glanced between the two of them. “Who?”

  “Oh my God.” Gina covered her mouth with her hand, an unsuccessful attempt at hiding her amusement. “Oh my God. You slept with a rock star.”

  “I what?”

  “Pop star,” Brennen corrected.

  “Wait, what?”

  Gina turned to her. “He’s in a boy band. Or was, at least. SkyHigh. My stepsisters had posters of them all over their walls when we were teens.”

  Bryar scanned her memory but it didn’t ring a bell. She didn’t really hang with the kind of kids in high school who would listen to that. Her aunts only ever played oldies on the radio. When she heard pop music, it all basically sounded the same to her—she didn’t pay attention to who or what was playing it.

  “What did he say his name was?” Brennen asked.

  “Uh, Sawyer.” So he hadn’t even used a fake name. Did he expect she knew who he was or something? He didn’t act like it. Someone like that, who dropped his name anticipating a girl to drop her panties in turn at the mere mention probably would’ve tried a little harder. If anything, he seemed relieved when she didn’t react. Didn’t he?

  “So that face and that name didn’t ring a bell?”

  Her puzzlement must’ve been obvious. “You really have lived under a rock, haven’t you?” Gina said, though there was no malice or pity in it—just a thoughtful little smile. “I thought I was bad for that. But I’m pretty sure I’d know if I hooked up with a famous guy.”

  “Oh my God.” Bryar leaned heavily over the glass counter and thumped her forehead on it a few times for good measure. “Oh my God. Shit, I had no idea. It was just skinny dipping, anyway.” Not entirely true, but she hadn’t actually fucked a “rock star”—pop star, whatever—and any evidence of whatever else went on didn’t exist or would’ve found its way to the internet by now.

  Probably.

  Taps on the window drew her attention up again, and the three of them looked across the shop to see a group of teen girls peering at them, one of whom had her cell phone out and aimed at them. Once caught, instead of running, they squealed and whispered something to one another, then started toward the door.

  “Shit, am I going to turn your store into a site of loitering teenagers?” She just got the damn job, could she really get fired for this already?

  Gina waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you head to the kitchen and clean, finish your shift tidying up, and then head home? I’ll diffuse whatever’s going on here. It’ll die down.”

  “Okay.” Bryar glanced at the door where the girls were seeming to debate coming in or not, and inwardly winced at the thought of having to deal with them. Thank God Gina was the most reasonable boss on the planet.

  “Same hours we discussed on Monday, if that still works for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll drive you home, if you want,” Brennen offered and Gina mouthed a “thank you” to him just as the bell over the door jangled and the teens arrived.

  Bryar ducked into the back room swiftly with Brennen a few steps behind. He said little as she went through tidying up according to Gina’s previous instructions, ensuring everything was where it was supposed to be and the counters were spotless. Brennen swept up the floor while she worked and soon both were ready to go.

  “So you really don’t think it’s going to cause any problems for the store?” she asked Brennen as they stepped outside. Thankfully the parking lot was void of people—the one benefit to not having worked there long would be that no one knew where to find her.

  Brennen pulled out his keys and led her to his navy blue vintage Mustang. “No. Might even bring in new business. And I’m sure it’ll die down soon.”

  They climbed in the vehicle and Bryar gave him quick directions to where her aunts’ cottage was. Soon they were on their way out of the downtown core.

  “Seriously, w
hat would some ex boy band pop singer even be doing in Midsummer?” Bryar said at last. She hugged her purse to her chest and frowned out the window. “I mean, I know I’m out of the loop, but even if I wasn’t, that’s the last place you’d expect to find someone like him. Right?”

  “Did he say he was vacationing or just passing through?”

  She scanned through her memory of the conversations from the night before. “Just staying with his sister and brother-in-law. Didn’t say where. This is a weird time for a vacation, right? And a weird spot? Shouldn’t he go somewhere like...Belize? Or Paris? Greece? Or Las Vegas? Why Midsummer?”

  Brennen said nothing for a few minutes, eyes on the mostly empty stretch of road outside of town, and she started suspecting something else was up.

  “Brennen?”

  “My briefcase is in the back—can you grab it?”

  Bryar twisted in her seat as he drove, found the brown leather case, and shifted it out onto her lap. She followed his instructions and pulled his tablet out.

  “Go ahead and Google him,” Brennen said. “I’m not really up on this kind of thing but I know the band broke up supposedly for good several months ago. They pop up on tabloids sometimes, magazine headlines you’d see at the grocery store.”

  She typed in Sawyer’s name and the screen flooded with photos of him. God, the photos. Everything from a fresh-faced teen in semi-matching clothes with three other guys to the older, scruffier version she’d seen last night only in shades with his face turned away.

  Her brain couldn’t entirely wrap around it. How could this really be the same guy? How could she not have known? Nothing in his behavior indicated he was anything but a regular guy. He wasn’t a jerk. Wasn’t overly cocky or demanding. He was down to earth. Normal.

  She scanned some of the news sites next, frowning at the article headlines. “So you’re saying he’s hiding out here? Because...” Her gaze hit a recent story and voice faded, something going cold in her gut.