Take Me To The Beach

by K. L. Grayson, Karina Halle, A. L. Jackson, Marni Mann, Monica Murphy, Devney Perry, Kristen Proby, Rachel Van Dyken

  Now it would be part of the Kendrick Foundation.

  We’d keep the original charter intact but come in with fresh eyes and a bigger wallet. The foundation would make a few overdue improvements and teach Willa how to better manage expenses while increasing attendance. We’d ensure this children’s paradise would be around for many more years to come.

  “Thank you,” Willa whispered as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” I looked to Nolan. “Anything you want to add?”

  “I think you covered it all,” the corners of his mouth turned up, “boss.”

  Smug bastard. As CEO, he had just as much authority to approve this purchase as I did. He just liked to toss that word around to remind me who was really in charge here.

  “I’ll have the attorneys contact the church and start drafting a contract,” he said. “We’ll get everything transferred over to the foundation as soon as possible. And Ms. Doon, we’ll expect you to stay on as director.”

  Willa gasped. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, I’m grateful, but it wasn’t about keeping my job.”

  Nolan smiled. “We know. That’s why you’re the best choice for our camp director. And as long as things are going well, the job is yours.”

  “I just—I can’t believe this is happening. It was a long shot, sending that proposal. I never . . .” She pressed her hands to her cheeks again. “Thank you.”

  “Congratulations. Let’s celebrate.” Nolan clapped me on the shoulder. “Willa, now that we’ve got business out of the way, would you mind giving us the rest of the tour?”

  She nodded, composing herself once again. “I’d love to.”

  “And afterward, would you mind showing us around town a bit?” I asked. “We’d love a recommendation for dinner and drinks.”

  Willa nodded again, her face beaming. “I know just the place.”

  “Then lead the way.” Nolan waved her on, then leaned close as we followed. “Now aren’t you glad we stayed?”

  Days like today were the reason I stayed so in tune with the foundation’s activities. Outside of the countless hours I put in at the firm, I didn’t have hobbies like my friends did. I didn’t golf or own a yacht.

  I worked.

  Hard.

  Nolan didn’t need me along for these foundation trips, but the truth was, I didn’t want to miss out. I didn’t want to miss the chance to make someone’s dream come true. Or the opportunity to put my family’s fortune to a better use than buying my mother diamonds or my sister divorces.

  “Fine. I’ll admit, this place isn’t so bad. Once you get past the smell.”

  An hour later—after we’d finished touring the camp and Willa had driven us around town—Nolan and I followed her through the steel door of the Lark Cove Bar.

  “This is . . . quaint,” I muttered. Were those peanut shells all over the floor?

  “They have the best drinks in the area and their pizzas are amazing.” Willa smiled over her shoulder but it fell when she took in my grimace. “But there’s a fancier place up the road in Kalispell. It’s about forty-five minutes, but we can go there. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “This place is perfect.” Nolan placed his hand on my shoulder, his dark skin a stark contrast to my white shirt. “We don’t need fancy.”

  “Okay. Good.” Willa relaxed and walked over to a table.

  “We don’t need fancy,” I whispered to Nolan. “Just sanitary.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re fired.”

  He chuckled and looked at his Rolex. “That’s the first time you’ve fired me today, and it’s past four. Usually you fire me before noon on these trips. Maybe the Montana air agrees with you.”

  I huffed. “I can’t wait to say ‘I told you so’ after we get food poisoning.”

  “Let’s get you a drink.”

  “Finally, he says something intelligent.”

  We were both grinning as we joined Willa at a tall, square table in the middle of the bar.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  “Great.” I smiled as the wooden stool creaked under my weight. With my back to the door, I studied the room.

  The ceiling was high, with exposed iron beams running from one side to the other. Much like the floors, the walls were paneled with battered wood. Though instead of being covered in peanut shells, they were filled with signs and pictures. It reminded me of those chain restaurants—the ones all ending in an apostrophe s. Applebee’s. Chili’s. Bennigan’s. Except this decor hadn’t been staged but pieced together naturally over the years.

  The L-shaped bar was long, running across both of the back walls. There had to be at least twenty stools along its path, and judging by the wear and tear on the foot rail, it was the place most people chose to sit.

  Including the five patrons seated near the bartender.

  “Welcome, folks. Be right there.”

  Willa looked over her shoulder, giving the guy a shy wave. As she spun back to the table, her fingers tugged at her hair in an attempt to hide her red cheeks.

  Nolan and I shared a grin, then each continued silently scrutinizing the bar as we waited to place our order.

  Neon signs advertising various beers and liquors littered the windows facing the parking lot. Next to a large flat-screen on one wall, a set of antlers was adorned with a bunch of hats. Wait. Is that a bra?

  The Fourth of July was over a week ago, but the decorations were still up. A red, white and blue banner hung above the jukebox, and a handful of tiny flags sat in a cup on the bar.

  This place was as far removed from my favorite bar in the city as you could get, but at least they had alcohol. Though, I doubted the Lark Cove Bar carried my preference.

  “Gentlemen. Willow.” The bartender appeared at our table, depositing three cardboard coasters and a paper boat of peanuts.

  “It’s Willa. Actually.” She tucked her hair behind an ear, sitting taller. “With an a.”

  “Damn. Sorry.” He shrugged off his mistake—one I had a feeling he’d make again. “What can I get for you?”

  “I don’t suppose you have Macallan 18,” I said.

  It had been a long day, flying out early this morning and then being assaulted with reminders of Emmeline once my feet had touched the Montana soil. Today called for whisky.

  The bartender grinned, then ran a hand over his blond buzz-cut hair. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Nice.” The Lark Cove Bar might not be pretty, but whoever stocked their shelves had good taste. “I’ll have a double. Neat.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Nolan said.

  “You got it.” The bartender smiled at Willa. “And for you?”

  “Just, um, a beer. Anything is fine,” she stuttered, blushing again as she stared at the stubble on his jaw. “Thanks, Jackson.”

  “Be back.” He tapped his knuckles on the table, then ambled back behind the bar.

  “How long do you think that bottle has been up there?” Nolan leaned over and asked as Jackson stretched to pull down the Macallan from the highest shelf.

  I opened my mouth to comment on the cobwebs in the upper corner, but stopped when a swish of dark hair caught my eye.

  From out of a back room, a woman emerged and smiled at Jackson, then at one of the regulars as she set down a pizza pan.

  Her simple black tank molded to her breasts and flat stomach, leaving her tanned arms bare. Her jeans sat low on her hips, cinched tight with a black leather belt that was just a shade darker than her long, thick hair. Her white smile was full of straight teeth, except for one in the middle of the bottom row that sat slightly off-center.

  It had been over six years—nearly seven—since I’d spent the night with my hands wrapped up in that hair. Since I’d memorized that smile while I’d held Thea in my arms.

  Years, and she looked exactly the same.

  “Logan, do you want pizza?”

  I shook my head, sliding off my creaking stool.
“Excuse me for a moment.”

  At my movement, Thea’s dark eyes—nearly black, like her hair—swept the room. She smiled at me for a second, but the expression fell away and the color in her face drained as recognition dawned.

  She remembers me. Thank god, she remembered me. I was man enough to admit that it would have crushed my ego if she hadn’t remembered me. Remembered that night.

  I still thought about it now and then—whenever I was in the neighborhood of that hotel. Did she ever think about it? About me?

  I’d gone back to her hotel bar once, months after we’d hooked up. But she hadn’t been there. The staff had told me that Thea had quit and moved out of the city. I’d been disappointed and pissed at myself for waiting too long—I’d been busy with work. Then life had moved on. Not long after I’d tried to find Thea again, I’d met Emmeline.

  Still, I’d never forgotten Thea, even after all these years.

  I’d never forgotten how those dark eyes had lulled me under her spell. How her amazing body—the perfect balance of toned, lean muscle to soft, feminine curves—had felt beneath mine.

  As I crossed the room, I held her wide, unblinking stare. “Thea.”

  Her body jolted at my voice. “Lo-Logan.”

  “It’s been a long time. How are you?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it without a word.

  “Hey, Thea,” Jackson called. “We’re finally cracking that bottle of Macallan you insisted on buying.”

  I grinned. That was why the Lark Cove Bar carried Macallan. She’d bought my favorite whisky for her bar, even if it had never been served.

  “I . . .” Thea took a long breath, shaking her head and closing her eyes. When she opened them, the shock of seeing my face was gone.

  But instead of the confident, sexy woman I’d expected to see once the surprise had faded, I saw fear.

  Why would Thea be afraid of me? I’d treated her with nothing but respect during the night we’d shared. Hadn’t I?

  Before I could say anything else, she sprang into action, grabbing a shot glass and slamming it on the bar. Then she reached behind her, swiping a bottle of tequila from a middle shelf. With a flick of her wrist, she poured the shot, not spilling a drop.

  “Drink that,” she ordered. “We need to talk.”

  Thea

  My heart was bouncing like a ping-pong ball between my sternum and spine. I couldn’t believe Logan was standing right in front of me.

  Logan.

  How many hours had I spent looking for him in New York? How many times had I searched for his face in the crowds? How many nights had I laid in bed, replaying our night together, hoping I’d be able to recall something—anything—that might lead me to this moment?

  Eventually, I’d given up hope that I’d ever see him again. I’d made peace with my situation.

  Logan Whatever-His-Name-Is was the best, and only, one-night stand of my life.

  He was just another person I’d left behind in New York. He was a memory, one of the few good ones from back then.

  Yet here he was, standing in my dingy, happy bar, staring at the tequila shot I’d poured him.

  A shot he really needed to drink before I took it myself.

  “Please,” I whispered. “Take it.”

  His gaze snapped back to mine and my heart pounded even faster. Confidence radiated off his tall body in waves. He was just as intimidating now as he had been years ago, except instead of being alluring and charming, today it was terrifying. His frame was locked tight and his brown eyes were narrowed, silently demanding me to speak.

  Did he know what I was going to tell him? Did he know that I was about to change his life?

  I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat and sucked in some oxygen so I didn’t topple over. Then I gripped the edge of the bar to keep myself upright.

  Do it. Say it, Thea. Tell him.

  If I didn’t tell him today, I might not ever have the chance. And for her sake, he needed to know.

  “I had a . . .” God, I was dizzy. Why couldn’t I find the words? “You, I mean we, have a—”

  “Mommy, look.” A little hand tugged on my jeans.

  I jumped, clutching a hand to my thundering heart. So shocked by Logan’s presence, I hadn’t heard Charlie come into the bar. Maybe it would be easier with her here. Maybe he’d take one look at her and know what I’d been trying to say.

  “Charlie.” I turned and bent at the waist, ready to ask her to wait in the office for a minute. But instead of looking into my daughter’s brown eyes, I stared at two slimy eyeballs.

  “Ah!” I screamed as she thrust the thing right at me.

  “I found a frog.”

  “Eww!” Its slippery nose touched mine and I jerked away, swatting the frog away from my face. Except in my hurry to put some distance between me and the creature, I hit Charlie’s hands. The contact was just enough that her grip faltered and the frog slipped loose. It springboarded off her palm into my chest, leaving a wet spot, then landed on the floor with a thud.

  “No!” Charlie screeched, scrambling around me to capture the frog. But its legs were a blur of motion, propelling it farther and farther out of her reach.

  “Damn,” I hissed and sprang into action, dropping to the floor beside Charlie. My hands and knees thumped on the hard floor as I tried to keep up, but the frog was leaping too fast.

  “Get that frog!”

  Chaos erupted at my back. Stools scraped as a couple of the regulars abandoned their seats. Someone knocked over a glass because I heard the unmistakable sound of beer splattering on the floor in between a slur of curse words. And Jackson started howling with laughter.

  “Jackson, help,” I barked over my shoulder, only to make him roar louder.

  “What is happening?” Hazel’s voice floated above all the other noise. “Oh, no. Charlie, what did I tell you about that frog?”

  “But Gran, I had to show Mommy,” she said, abandoning her pursuit to defend herself.

  “You can’t bring frogs inside,” Hazel said.

  “But—”

  “Could I get some help here?” I shouted, bringing the frog back to focus.

  “Jackson Page,” Hazel scolded. “Stop laughing and catch that frog.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled as the thud of his boots echoed on the floor.

  I kept chasing the frog, right to the corner of the bar. It had stopped by the edge, so I swiped fast, gripping one of the frog’s back legs. “Gotcha!”

  Relief washed over my shoulders, but as I tried to pick the frog up, the damn thing squirmed hard and got free.

  “Shit!” I yelled as it landed on the floor and bounded away.

  “That’s a bad word,” Charlie chastised.

  “Shoot!”

  Still on my hands and knees, I rounded the corner of the bar, hustling to catch the frog before it could disappear into a nook or cranny. I stretched to reach for it again but lost my balance when one of my palms skidded on a peanut shell.

  Damn it! This wasn’t happening.

  My daughter hadn’t just brought a frog into my bar, violating every health code in the book. I wasn’t on my hands and knees, chasing an amphibian through peanut shells in front of the classiest man I’d ever met. I wasn’t about to make the most difficult confession of my life with frog slime on my shirt.

  This could not be happening.

  I regained my balance and looked up, but instead of seeing a frog, I saw a pair of camel wingtips.

  My eyes ran up the shoes, over their laces, to the crisp denim that covered long, powerful legs. As I stood, my gaze continued up past the leather belt that wrapped around hipbones I’d once tasted on my tongue. Then up a starched, white polo that covered Logan’s washboard abs.

  Steady on my feet, I avoided looking at his face in favor of his muscled arm. Veins snaked over his bicep and down to his tanned forearm. His wristwatch cost more than my car. And his fingers . . . held a squirming frog.

  “You got him.�
�� Charlie appeared at my side, smiling up at Logan as she reached for her latest captive. But before they could make the transfer, her hands froze and her head cocked to the side. Under the backward band of her baseball cap, her eyebrows were furrowed.

  Oh, god. Did she recognize Logan? Charlie had asked me a couple of years ago about her dad, and since I hadn’t been able to tell her much, I’d drawn her a picture of him. Did she see the resemblance to my sketch? This was going to turn into a cluster—well, more of a cluster—if she started asking questions before I had a chance to tell Logan about her.

  My head was swirling and my breaths came in hard pants as I tore my eyes from Charlie’s puzzled face to look up at Logan.

  But he wasn’t paying me any mind. His attention was entirely on Charlie.

  “Your pinky has the same bend as mine.” Charlie touched his finger, then lifted her hand, wriggling her fifth finger.

  The chaos and noise from moments ago was gone. The bar was deathly silent as Charlie’s words rang in the air. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Jackson. Hazel. Wayne and Ronny, a couple of our regulars. All I could do was stand frozen, waiting for Logan’s response.

  “Um, Charlie.” Hazel’s voice broke the quiet. “Let’s get that thing outside.”

  “Okay, Gran.” My daughter reached up to collect her latest pet from Logan’s hands, just as Hazel came around the bar to shuffle her away.

  “Thea, we’ll see you at home.”

  “Bye, Mommy.”

  I nodded but didn’t glance away from Logan’s clenched jaw.

  I waited until Hazel’s and Charlie’s footsteps disappeared and the back door closed. I waited until the silence returned. I waited for Logan because I didn’t have the courage to speak first.

  “How old is she?” In front of my nose, his broad chest was heaving.

  I blinked and cleared my impossibly dry throat before meeting his dark glare. “She turns six in a month.”