by Becca Barnes
Not Quite Charming
A Secret Billionaire Beach Romantic Comedy
Becca Barnes
BB Press
Copyright © 2018 by Becca Barnes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Afterword
Into Focus: A Second Chance Amnesia Romance
About the Author
Also by Becca Barnes
One
Ellie
Ewwww.
There’s nothing worse than the tell-tale squish of doggy doo under the sole of your shoe. Unfortunately, it was a sensation I knew all too well. Occupational hazard of operating a full-service luxury pet spa.
“Yick.” I shook the offending footwear off, thankful the perpetrator had been a mere chihuahua whose mess was the size of a Tootsie Roll, and tossed the shoe over by the hose where I’d de-poo it after I was done dealing with the diva culprit sitting in front of me.
“Look, Daisy, we both know that you’re dreading this bubble bath as much as I would give my eye teeth for a hot shower right about now.” I pressed a lock of frizzed-out hair away from my face with the back of my arm. “But you can bet your sweet little puppy keister that I’m going to win this battle of the wills. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Daisy gave me the stink eye and one final yip of protest. But when I spread the towel out beside the oversized basin sink, the normally white but currently dingy dog sat down and curled up on the soft terry cloth.
“That’s a good girl. In you go.” I gently lifted the quivering ball of fluffy fur into the sink and began to work my magic.
As I massaged the shampoo in, I kept a steady, slow stream of warm water trickling over the pup whose nervous shivers melted into a relaxed calm.
The dog whisperer could kiss my ass. Ellie Cooper was the dog pamperer.
I reached up for the bottle of brightening wash, but when I lifted it, it was empty.
Shoot.
Daisy was clean, but I couldn’t start the scheduled aromatherapy session until the dog’s coat was white as a January snow.
Not that I’d ever experienced a January snow, living one block from the shore in Lavender Beach, Florida. Of course, on this stretch of Highway 30A in the panhandle, we had sugar white sand that nearly resembled snow year-round, so I wasn’t complaining.
It was the perfect location for a high end dog spa. Well, pet spa, but ninety-nine percent of my clients were dogs. Along with two ferrets, a handful of angry cats, and one extremely confused chinchilla.
My schedule had stayed busy even before the fateful day three years ago when, on vacation with her family, Miley Cyrus had tweeted a selfie holding her Broodle Griffon standing in front of the S’Paw Box sign with the hashtag #bestgroomerEVAH. A Broodle Griffon, for the uninformed, being a designer dog mix of a Brussels Griffon and a poodle. Personally, I thought they looked like deformed baby Ewoks. The kind of dog that’s so ugly it’s...still kind of ugly.
But that sweet, deformed baby Ewok had increased my fees from the already high-end hundred and twenty dollars to over three hundred on short notice.
Not that I would ever see the financial fruits of my labor.
My stepmother saw to that.
During the busy summer season, there was a waiting list for my services five pages long. But even throughout the winter, snowbirds and long-weekenders kept my plate more than full.
I lifted the soaking wet dog out of the bath and wrapped it in a pre-heated towel. Daisy licked my hand and started to doze off in my arms as I walked across the courtyard that separated S’Paw Box from its adjoining sister retail store of the same name.
The bell above the door trilled its pleasant chime that still brought me back to my childhood every time I heard it. When I’d spend my days at the store helping Dad every day during the summers.
“Hey, Gretchen.” I waved to the high school girl who manned the front counter after school.
Gretchen lifted her chin where it rested on the rough-hewn counter that my dad had built with his own two hands. She tossed her brown corkscrew curls over her shoulder. Well, it was more like they boinged.
“Hey, Ellie. What’s up?”
“Out of whitening wash.” I held up the still sopping wet Daisy as proof. I went to the shelf where it was normally stocked, but the slot was empty.
“We just got a new shipment in.” Gretchen reached under the counter and pulled out a box.
“Thanks.” I grabbed a bottle. Actually, on second thought, I’d better make it two. The Osborne Dalmatians were scheduled for early the next morning, and I usually went through a full bottle between the three of them.
“Do you know if, umm, if Kat’s coming in today?” Gretchen asked, carefully avoiding eye contact.
“I think she was going to drop off the paychecks,” I said.
That was assuming, of course, that Kat made them out on time. My stepmother wasn’t known for her punctuality, especially where payroll, or really anything that had to do with the store, was concerned.
“Oh, okay. Good.” Gretchen picked at her cuticles. “I was going to ask her if--oh. Never mind. It’s a bad idea.”
“You were going to ask her what?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I doubt it.” I craned my neck around so that Gretchen couldn’t avoid looking at me. “What is it?”
“Prom is a week away, and I didn’t think anyone would invite me, but now I think D.J. might. I was going to see if I could get an advance on my next check to buy my dress.”
“Oh.” Well, I didn’t need to ask Kat to know what her answer would be: Hell to the nope.
But I couldn’t tell Gretchen that. Not after listening to the poor lovesick girl chatter on about this D.J. guy for a year now. I didn’t know if D.J. would work up the guts to finally ask Gretchen out, or if he was even worthy of her. But every girl deserves the chance to feel like a princess for a night, especially one as sweet as Gretchen.
“How much do you need?” I asked. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Really?
Do you think Kat would go for two-hundred?”
No. Kat would go for zero. But I would happily front the money for the dress.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
“Thank you so much.” Gretchen threw her arms around me, wet dog and all. “You’re the best.”
“It’s nothing.” I backed towards the doorway and shifted my weight so that I could hold both of the bottles more securely. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Or rather, I’d wait two days, slip some cash that I couldn’t really spare in an envelope, and tell her it was an unexpected bonus.
The door chime tinkled once more, and I spun around, expecting to see one of our regular customers or a curious vacationer. Instead, I nearly ran headlong into the most attractive man I’d ever encountered.
Tall with broad, solid shoulders and a chiseled jawline with just the right amount of stubble. His presence filled the narrow doorway.
Before I could do anything to stop her, Daisy wriggled out of the towel in my arms and began to shake like a mad fiend, showering everything in a five foot radius with dog-scented bubble bath.
In an effort to keep hold of the dog, I shifted my arms, dropping one of the bottles of whitening wash in the process, which promptly exploded on the ground. I took a step back, slipped in a puddle of the spilled goo and--oh, crap on a hot tin roof--went sprawling backwards, knees over knickers.
Two
Mac
Normally on reconnaissance missions such as these, I would have been more prepared. I should have at least remembered to borrow my best friend Nick’s bulldog and pass it off as my own. But instead, I’d had an unexpected canceled afternoon meeting and decided to drop by on a whim.
I always liked to check out my target in-person. Anonymously.
The store was a nice little mom and pop set-up, albeit upscale. I’d wager six, maybe six-fifty K in sales a year.
This should prove an easy negotiation.
But I still didn’t want to tip my cards just yet. Which was why I’d run back to my boat to throw on a pair of old khaki shorts and a tee shirt. Just a regular Joe on vacation. And in some ways, it truly felt that way. Any place I could dock my boat for a few weeks instead of living out of a suitcase in a stuffy hotel felt like a break.
I had expected the shop to smell like wet dog. Or dog, period. But instead, it smelled of lavender, mint, sea salt, and freshly shaved sawdust. Everything in this town had been painted a different shade of light purple, the whole lavender connection, but the inside of this shop was the first place I’d visited that it didn’t annoy me a little bit. It was the same color as the edge of a fluffy white cloud on an otherwise clear, brilliantly blue-skyed day. Almost silver.
Every square inch of space was well-utilized with clean, simple designs. From scuff marks on the floor and the wear on the doorframe, he could tell the place was popular.
Just as I’d expected. You didn’t get half a million Instagram followers without knowing how to draw people in.
And those half a million followers? They were the reason I was here.
What I hadn’t prepared for at all was the whirling ball of sun-kissed blonde cuteness that almost ran smack into my chest. I wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, other than that my shirt was soaked and the cute blonde was tumbling away from me.
I didn’t have time to think. In an act of hasty chivalry, I lunged forward and caught the woman around the waist. Just when I almost had her steady, though, a ball of white fuzz popped up between us and began yelping.
“Whoa.” I tried to keep his balance. I knew I should simply let go of the woman. I’d already lessened her impact considerably, but it was like my hand was glued in place to the silky, warm spot on her lower back. So I did the opposite. I pushed my other hand to the back of her head to protect it from the inevitable fall.
Down we both went.
We hit the ground with an oof. Hey, at least the woman hadn’t cracked her skull open.
But on second thought, getting crushed under one-hundred and eighty-five pounds of solid male body might have been slightly more damaging than a bump on the head.
“Umm, do you guys need some help?” asked a timid voice from behind us.
“I think we’re okay, Gretchen,” said the woman before looking up into my eyes. “You okay?”
Well, my adrenaline was pumping ninety-to-nothing, and I was pretty sure I’d proven I had the world’s worst case of Spidey reflexes ever. But other than that…
“I’m fine.” Better than fine. Upon closer inspection, the cute blonde wasn’t cute. She was hot, especially pressed into my arms in what, in any other moment, would be the makings of the start of something.
The dog squirmed out from between us and pranced around our tangled bodies, barking. I was instantly aware of every square inch of our skin that now touched. Her buttery soft legs were wrapped around my thigh. My hand was entwined in the wild, untamed waves that framed her face. And that face.
It was like someone had managed to take equal parts cherub and temptress and swirl them together, feature by fascinating feature. How exactly did a button nose that adorable exist right above lips so plump and sensuous I couldn’t help but imagine them traveling from body part to body part?
As I pushed himself off of her, I saw that her shirt was even more soaked than mine was, revealing a taut stomach and the pert, downward curve of her small but perky breasts. Two perfect rounds of pink were just visible through the thin, wet cotton. I said a silent thanks that the adrenaline rush was still wearing off so my blood was otherwise occupied from where it would naturally flow under the circumstances.
“Sorry about that,” said the woman once I’d pried myself loose. “Gretchen, can you grab the mop?”
“Oh. You work here?” I gazed around the interior of the shop, forcing myself back on task. I needed to mentally calculate the likely amount of the store’s monthly rent, cost of goods that they stocked, and other overhead.
“I’m usually over at the spa, but, yes. Hi, I’m Ellie.”
She held out her hand, and when I took it to help her up, I was acutely aware of the pruned ridges that rose from her fingertips. Her nails were clipped down to nubs, a sad contrast to the perfectly polished manicures I encountered daily in my typical crowd.
“I’m Mac. Nice to meet you. So, you own this place?” I asked. It seemed like a fair assumption given how she’d taken control of the spill situation so readily.
“No.” Something dark flashed across Ellie’s face. It was gone in a moment, but I hadn’t become an expert negotiator without learning to read people. I had no idea why, but my question had ripped a wound open.
I didn’t even know her last name, but I knew I never wanted to see that pained expression on this Ellie’s face again.
Easy enough. I didn’t do relationships. Didn’t do closeness.
No woman, no cry.
Ellie recovered quickly, though. Given how bright and genuine her smile was, you’d never know she was covered in dog water and whatever flowery smelling goop that was all over her backside.
Hoo. That backside.
Get it together, man. You’re here for one purpose and one purpose only.
I gathered my nerve and put my Mr. Charming persona back on. Recon and out.
“Can I help you find anything?” asked Ellie.
“A dog collar,” I said. Nice, simple. In and out in five minutes. “For a friend. A friend’s...dog.”
“The last three rows on that wall are our collars, and we exclusively carry Koselig brand harnesses. They’re on that far display.”
“Koselig?” I walked over to look at them.
“It’s a Norwegian company. They’re anti-chafing with extra padding. The best.” She stated it as fact, not opinion.
Couldn’t fault her expertise.
“Sounds nice.” I grabbed one near the top that had sparkly things around the edge. Nick would get a kick out of that. He spoiled that dog to no end. He’d actually
been the inspiration for my latest venture.
Gretchen’s eyebrows shot up when I placed the harness on the checkout counter.
“Is that all or can I help you find anything else?” asked Ellie.
“Uh, how about some treats, too?” I picked up a baggie of what looked like chopped bacon bits.
“Great. Gretchen, can you bag those up please? With tax, that will be”--Ellie squinted her eyes together, and those pouty, sensual lips of hers moved ever-so-slightly—“three hundred and eighty-three dollars and...sixty-two cents.”
I practically choked.
“Excuse me?”
“I can double check on the calculator, but not to brag or anything, you’re speaking with a former state champion mathlete.” She whipped out a calculator anyway, then fluttered her freaking butterfly wings of eyelashes at me. “Yep, I’m right.”
“Almost four hundred dollars for a dog collar?”
“Harness. With genuine Swarovski detailing. But yes, they’re pricey. I’m happy to help you pick something else out if you’d like. Something more affordable.”
“No.” It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, accepting her challenge. I shelled out the cash without blinking. It wasn’t like I wasn’t good for it. I’d made a hell of a lot more than four hundred dollars while we’d been talking over the last two minutes. It was just...sheesh. It was for a dog. Specifically a lazy-ass basset hound who hated going on walks.