Unbound (The Men of West Beach Book 2)

by Kimberly Derting

  I wasn’t wrong. She and my dad were different together.

  I needed to get out of here. I needed some air.

  I glanced across the room, searching for an exit, an escape.

  Instead, I saw Lucas.

  LUCAS

  “We should go the other way,” Aster said. If she thought I hadn’t noticed that she’d just slipped her arm through mine, she was dead wrong.

  But all I could think about were those piercing blue eyes across the room pinning me with their electric hold. And the way my body reacted immediately to knowing she was so near.

  “Lucas,” Aster repeated when I didn’t . . . couldn’t say anything.

  “Fuck,” I finally groaned.

  “Language.” Aster’s strident voice was like sandpaper raking a chalkboard. “Where are you going?” she demanded when I shook her off her suggestion.

  “You can go the other way, if you want. I need to take care of something,” I called back to her.

  She could go home for all I cared. Seeing Em here, it must be a sign. This was my chance to straighten things out with her.

  If I expected Em to run off when she saw me heading her way, I should have known better. That wasn’t her style. Her only outward reaction was a long, slow blink as she inhaled hard. “What? Are you following me now? I thought I made it pretty clear when I said it was over.”

  That’s when Seth’s meaty paw slammed hard into my chest, and I realized Em wasn’t here alone. “No means no, pal. Didn’t anyone explain the perils of stalking to you?”

  “Jesus. No. I’m not . . .” I shoved his hand off me. “For Chrissake, I’m not stalking her.” Then to Emerson, “I didn’t even know you’d be here.”

  The look she gave me said she definitely wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. So this was just a coincidence then, you showing up at the same place as me? At the exact same time? She eyed me warily. “If you didn’t know, then what are you doing here?” She glanced over my shoulder as her full lips compressed into a hard line. “What is she doing here?”

  Aster’s voice piped up from behind me. “That’s really none of your beeswax.”

  Somehow Seth managed to forget he was supposed to be defending his sister’s honor. Suddenly, he had something new to focus on, as he stepped around me not bothering to pretend he wasn’t scoping out Aster.

  I ignored them both, turning my focus on Emerson instead. “Aster and I came strictly to try to persuade the Beach Club to reconsider. We’re running out of options.” The truth was beginning to wear me down and I could hear it in my voice.

  Frowning, Emerson asked, “This is where you’re planning to have the gala?”

  “Was,” Aster interjected. Again, not helpful.

  Emerson let out a heavy sigh. “Well,” she said, her stance loosening. “What are your other options?”

  “As of right now . . . ,” I started.

  But Aster beat me to the punch. “None. As of this moment, we have no other options.”

  “Wow.” Seth decided this was his chance to weigh in. “You’re really somethin’, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He slid closer to Aster, his hand settling on her lower back as he leaned close to her ear. “You and I might oughta grab us a drink in private. Give these two lovebirds a few minutes alone to sort things out.”

  The Aster I knew would have shot someone like Seth down, the way she always did whenever guys hit on her. Aster was one of the few girls who’d managed to avoid dropping her panties for some of the best manwhores I knew . . . including Raph.

  She was the definition of straightlaced. It had taken over a year of dating before we’d finally slept together, and even then, it had been a by-the-book, missionary-only affair. Mechanical. An errand to mark off her to-do list.

  Seeing her reaction to Seth was strange. A flush crept over her cheeks and spread all the way down her neck. In the two years she and I had been together, I’d never seen Aster blush . . . at least not for the same reason she was now.

  But that wasn’t what was bothering me.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t interested in staying here another second, even if it was my chance to convince Em things had changed between us. I didn’t deserve to be alone with her right now. Not after hearing Aster’s abrupt assessment of our situation.

  We had no venue. It was time for me to face facts—the gala was beyond saving.

  My mother’s voice filled my head—everything she’d ever told me about needing her, about not being able to succeed on my own. I thought she was wrong.

  It turns out I’d overestimated myself. Maybe my mother really had known what she was talking about. I couldn’t even put together a charity fundraiser that was important to me. I wasn’t good enough for someone like Emerson McLean, the kind of girl who grabbed life by the balls.

  I’d let everyone down. I’d let Adam down.

  “I’m going to the car,” I told Aster. “If you’re not there in five, I’m leaving without you.”

  EMERSON

  Seth had been gone less than twelve hours and I already missed him.

  He’d always been my most annoying brother. The most arrogant. The biggest instigator. The one of them who showed the least interest in having a little sister.

  But . . . it was lonely here without him.

  If I was being completely honest, it wasn’t just Seth’s absence. I was just plain lonely.

  I wouldn’t last forever. I just needed to get through the next few weeks. Then I’d be off to Arizona. The internship there might not be my dream job, but at least I wouldn’t be living right next door to Lucas anymore. I wouldn’t bump into him every time I turned around. I wouldn’t constantly be wondering what he was doing.

  Who he was doing.

  Out of sight, out of mind, and all that crap.

  Thankfully, today was Monday, so at least I had work to pass the time. That’s how I knew I’d hit rock bottom: I was looking forward to work days.

  Better to be at work than sitting at home though, because being so close to Lucas was killing me. Ever since running into him at the party Will had taken us to, I’d become fixated on him again, counting the minutes till I’d catch another glimpse of him, and then feeling guilty for letting him infiltrate my brain. He was like a parasite.

  One I needed to excise from my life, once and for all.

  “Hey, McLean, wait up a sec.” It was one of the older kids, a boy named Makai or Malik. Or maybe it was Niko.

  Shit, I sucked at names.

  “Hey . . . you,” I hedged, as the boy came lumbering down the front steps toward me. A week ago, this kid would’ve scared the crap out of me. Now I saw him for who he really was, a gentle giant being raised by a single mom on welfare. His jerk of a dad hadn’t stuck around long enough to get to know him. That was the story of a lot of these kids—raised by single moms, bounced around through the foster system, parents on drugs or in prison. Or the luckier ones who had both parents, but happened to live in shit neighborhoods. Those kids spent their time here just to stay out of trouble.

  This place was a lot of different things to a lot of different people.

  “Markus,” the boy informed me with a devious grin.

  Crap. Markus, that was it.

  “I knew that.”

  But the look he gave said he definitely wasn’t buying it. Smart kid. “So, uh, I was wondering . . .”

  I waited, to hear just what it was he’d been wondering. “Uh-huh,” I prompted, when he seemed to have a hard time getting there.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, the thing is, I sorta heard who your ol’ man is, and I was thinking . . . ” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “I was thinking maybe you could hook me up.” His eyebrows rose hopefully.

  I dropped my chin and gave him my own skeptical look. “You want me to hook you up? With my dad? Sorry, but I don’t think you’re his type, Markus.”

  At the edge of the lot, I realized we’d drawn a small audience when I heard a group of kids bust out laughing.

  Markus made a
face. “Nah. Not like that. You know what I mean.”

  I started walking again, pretending the conversation was over. “I don’t think I do. Sounds to me like you’re not entirely sure either.”

  The kids at the edge of the lot were laughing harder now, only this time they’d edged closer. One of them hollered, “Her daddy’s not Electric Earl. You wasting your time, M.”

  I stopped and cocked my hip, addressing the big kid who was still trailing me. “You think you’re wasting your time, Markus? ’Cuz I’m startin’ to feel like you’re wasting mine.” I gave him a pointed look. “You got something to say, might as well say it.”

  For some people it was easy, asking for what you wanted out of life. For others, it was a skill that had to be learned. Markus had something on his mind, I could see it written all over his face, but he definitely fell into the latter category.

  But I wanted him to ask. I wanted him to know how to do that for himself.

  Markus shifted on his boat-sized shoes. “I was thinking . . . that maybe you could ask him . . . maybe . . . if he’d . . . you know, sign somethin’ for me.” He inhaled sharply, once the words plunged free from inside him. Then, he grinned sheepishly.

  I grinned too, pride welling inside me. “So . . . not for a date?”

  Beneath Markus’s dark skin, his cheeks flushed. “Definitely not a date.”

  I nodded. “I think I can work something out for you, Markus. Give me a coupla days. But I’m pretty sure it can be arranged.”

  As I got in my car, I heard the other boys shouting that they wanted to be hooked up too. But I’d already started my engine and started pointing to my ear, miming that I couldn’t hear them as I put the car in gear and drove away.

  I laughed almost the entire way home.

  Laughed because, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was doing something good. For me, and for the kids at the rec center.

  EMERSON

  I expected to hear the sounds of the cars coming and going on my street. We might not live right on the beach, but the stretch of beach we lived adjacent to was a local hot spot for surfers and beach bums alike. That meant that parking came at a premium, and sometimes we had to fight for our spots, depending on the weather, the waves, and whether there was a good party taking place on the beach. It also meant a lot of street noise.

  The noise I heard now though . . . this was a different kind of commotion. It was late, and the car door slamming might not have been out of place, if it hadn’t been for the shouting that followed . . . and the pounding. Both of which sounded like they were coming from practically right outside my bedroom window.

  But even that wasn’t enough to drag me from a deep sleep. It was the voice that got me. The voice that caused goose bumps to prickle over my arms and sent me upright in bed.

  Lucas was out there.

  Lucas, who was now making so much noise it was impossible for me to pretend I lived in a bubble in which he didn’t exist.

  Huffing, even though there was no one around to appreciate my epic huffiness, I threw back my covers. Definitely not now that Lucas had punctured my self-induced force field of ignorance. So what would be the harm in just peeking? One little peek to spy on my obnoxious neighbor?

  But my neighbor wasn’t just obnoxious, he was hammered. To the point of being nearly passed out by the time I saw him. He’d collapsed in a heap, slumped in a pile against the front door to his place.

  “Aw, hell,” I grumbled in the darkness. I didn’t need this. Couldn’t I just go back to bed and pretend I hadn’t seen him? How many times had my brothers passed out? How many times had I stepped over them and gone up to my own bed where it was safe and warm and slept like a baby?

  I could do that now, too. Lucas Harper was not my problem, at least not anymore. But I wouldn’t sleep . . . not knowing he was out there.

  I was already reaching for the skimpy robe draped over the end of my bed—the only kind of robe I owned—as I stalked through my living room. Lucas better appreciate this when he sobered up. Not everyone was as neighborly as me.

  I was still congratulating myself on my humanitarianism as I marched across the small patch of grass that separated our two houses. But when I reached him, I stopped dead in my tracks. Up close, Lucas was more than just drunk—he was a mess. His bleary-eyed gaze turned toward me but remained completely unfocused. For a second, I wondered if he even knew it was me standing there. If he even recognized me.

  Then he dropped his head again, like it was too heavy to hold up and said, “Emm . . .” His lips locked on the m in my name, like he was humming it. When he said it again, I thought maybe he wasn’t saying my name at all, maybe he really was just making a sound. Maybe the Em part was an accident—I’d only heard my name because I wanted to hear it—and he really didn’t know it was me.

  What was I going to do with him?

  “Lucas,” I said sadly because he was sad. This was sad. I leaned down, thinking maybe I would help him to his feet, but that was a mistake.

  The second I was within range, he caught a piece of my hair. I thought he might tug it, a little boy with a braid. Instead, he dragged it to his nose and sniffed it, like he was savoring a fine wine. “You smell d’licious.” His words came out sloppy.

  I slapped his hand away. “Stop it.”

  He blinked slowly. “Sorry.” His S’s were long and slurry.

  I sighed. “Come on,” I told him, holding out my hand. “Gimme your keys. We need to get you inside. You need to go to bed.”

  He made an effort to lift his head again, but it dipped too far back and he smacked it on the door before he attempted to home in on me. “Mmm . . . bed. You al’ays have—” He paused and licked his lips. “You always have the bes’ ideas.”

  Jesus. He was wrecked. This wouldn’t be easy.

  “Give me your keys,” I repeated.

  This time he just shook his wobbly head from side to side.

  It took everything I possessed to cling to my patience. “Why not?”

  He blinked one eye shut as he tried to focus on me again. “Lost ’em.”

  Awesome.

  I leaned over the top of him and knocked on the door. But I’d already heard him pounding on it when I looked outside—Zane was probably working at the bar tonight.

  Then I had an idea. “Gimme your phone.”

  His face scrunched up. “Why?” He asked it defensively, like I was plotting to steal state secrets from him.

  “Jesus. Paranoid much? I’m gonna call Zane. If I can’t reach him, I guess I’ll call Aster, have her bring her key over.”

  This time when he answered he stared at me blankly. “Why do you want her key?”

  I felt like I was stuck in a version of “Who’s On First?” “No. Not her key. Her key to your place. If I can get her to come over, then she can let you in.”

  His face screwed up, the wheels in his brain working slowly, obviously processing my brilliant idea. Then he shook his head haltingly. “Aster doesn’t have a key.”

  “Uh . . . yeah, she does. I saw her, coming out of your place. The night I got back from Dallas.” We were past pretending. I was calling him on his bullshit.

  He leaned his head back—this time harder than the last—and he banged his skull loudly against the door. For now, it didn’t seem to make much of an impression on him, but tomorrow he’d probably have a pretty decent-sized lump. His eyelids drooped lazily as he was clearly growing tired, either of the conversation or of all the lies. He waved me off. “That’s because I sent her over here. To get the contracts . . .” His voice lagged. I recognized that brand of weariness—I was losing him. Lucas was about to pass out, and if I didn’t figure out what to do with him soon, he’d be stuck right where he was. “I gave her my key. But she gave it back.” His eyes drifted closed. “That was when we . . . still thought . . . we’d have . . . a gala.”

  “Come on,” I insisted, trying to get him up. To keep him moving. I shoved my hands underneath his arm, but
he was too heavy to lift on his own. I needed his cooperation. “Let’s get you up.” He sank into me and looped his arms around my neck, groping me more than necessary as I heaved him off the doorstep. His breath smelled like a distillery and I hoped no one lit a match around him tonight.

  “It’s over, Emmm . . . ,” he moaned against my neck. Even while I was trying to do the right thing for a neighbor, the feel of his breath on my skin sent a wave of shivers along my spine. “Overrr . . .”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the gala now or about us—he was using the same words I’d used against him when I told him we couldn’t be a thing, me and him. Maybe he meant both.

  The despondency in his tone, tugged at me. That and the feel of his lean muscles beneath my fingertips as I struggled to keep him upright. I was still a good Samaritan, I told myself, even if I copped a feel.

  But what if I kissed him—just one little kiss? Would Lucas even remember it in the morning? Would it even count?

  I leaned my face toward his, my cheek grazing his chin as the thought lit me up like an electric chair. Every hair on my body stood on end as his body weighed heavily on me.

  Then, from inside his house, the lights clicked on and I heard the slide of the deadbolt. Zane’s face appeared from between the crack of the open door.

  Zane who wasn’t at work after all.

  Had he been there that night too, when Aster had been coming out with her blouse all rumpled and a key I thought had been hers?

  “What’s going on out here?” Clearly I wasn’t the only one Lucas had disturbed tonight.

  “Nothing,” I answered pointedly, when his gaze landed on his inebriated roommate who was currently wrapped in my arms. Nothing because, no way, had I been about to kiss him. Not a chance in hell. “Take him. Please.”

  We managed to shift Lucas’s mostly dead weight from me to Zane. And then I said, “I assume you can take it from here.” And when I heard the door close, I walked back across the lawn to my own place, my good deed accomplished.