by S. Love
“Right,” I say, my smile reaching no deeper than the surface. Then when I’m farther up the staircase, out of hearing distance, add, “I was going to, anyway.”
Chapter 4
A sweep of clear lip-gloss and mascara and I’m ready to go. My olive complexion doesn’t require foundation, not unless I’m intentionally overdoing it, and satsuma’s never a good look for me. I’ve been showered, shaved, and my hair is freshly washed and flat-ironed, falling down my back in perfectly straight strands. Eventually, at some point tonight, my natural curls will return. Maybe even with a vengeance. For now, I’m good.
Having stepped foot in Pearl Oaks Beach Country Club solely to visit my sister during one of her shifts, tonight will be my first time there as a guest, and I sit and scrutinize the pile of clothes in front of me before deciding which outfit is appropriate for mingling with and infiltrating the hoity-toity.
I pick out a white dress with a flared hem that stops a few inches shy of my knees. The straps are thin, and the neck is slightly squared, covering up plenty of cleavage. Besides, my boobs aren’t big enough to make a spectacle. They’re nicely tucked away in my strapless Forever 21 bra, keeping politely to themselves.
I go for nude pumps and a matching clutch. These are the only dressy heels and purse I’ve brought from home, and if I’m required to keep up appearances at this country club, which I suspect I won’t be, I’ll need to arrange a trip home for an extra supply of clothes next weekend. Not turning up week after week in the same getup is probably written in the Oaks’ Country Club bible.
Ready as I’ll ever be, I wander downstairs into the kitchen, Cindy’s scheduled meeting point.
Falcon’s sitting on one of the stools at the island, tapping away on his phone. A charcoal button-down shirt pulls taut across his broad shoulders, the long sleeves fastened at the cuffs. He’s wearing light gray chinos that do nothing but draw your eye to his solid thighs and long legs.
Looking away proves fruitless. The only other person in here is Ozzie, sitting across from Falcon. In a white long-sleeve polo and stone-colored chinos, he looks every ounce the privileged boy he is. He drags a hand through his espresso hair, disrupting the longer strands that have been combed back from his face. Ozzie’s hair’s shorter on the sides, but there’s more than enough on top to grab on to. Is there such a thing as immaculate bedhead? If there is, Ozzie’s got it.
And I stop myself right there, wiping how his hair’s been styled from my mind.
Ozzie eases back on his stool, hazel eyes rising and settling on me. I think he’s read my mind he looks so smug. “Like what you see?” he asks, that stupid smirk fixed in place.
Even if I did see something I liked, he just ruined it.
“No.” My voice is sweeter than usual. “Not even close.”
Cindy sweeps into the kitchen, and one look at her ruffled, sleeveless blouse and cream knee-length linen shorts, I know what I’m wearing has passed the test. Her nude stilettos have about two inches on mine and make her toned legs appear longer than they really are. She adjusts her sleek chignon, and then her unblemished, contoured face crumples when Topher walks in.
“No. Absolutely not,” she says.
I glance sideways. Topher’s wearing light-colored khakis and a white wifebeater with the sides ripped out, showing an abundance of sun-kissed muscled flesh. He’s even wearing a pair of Nike hi-tops. I don’t need to work at the County Club to know this attire will not get you past the entrance. I’d bet Topher knows this, too.
Sandy brown hair flops over the left side of his forehead, and he shrugs at his mom with a complete lack of concern. He’s probably dressed so casual to get out of going, and I pray that Cindy sends him to button up his best suit and spit shine his loafers.
“Go upstairs and change right this second. A car will be here in the next five minutes, so you’d better make it sharp, young man. Don’t test me, Topher. I’m not in the mood.”
Topher’s toffee eyes narrow as he passes by Cindy, but he does as he’s told, and I can’t help but smile.
The second I walk into the country club’s bar and lounge I regret agreeing to come here. Garrett is sitting at one of the round tables with his mom, dad, older sister, and a girl I don’t recognize.
I pretend to fix my hair, aligning myself with Falcon’s big body as we make our way to our own seats. To my relief, our table is on the farthest side of the lounge, next to the mahogany bar.
I look up and across the carpeted room. Garrett stands up, smiling down at the girl he was just sitting next to. He speaks, and she nods at whatever he says. The softness in his eyes isn’t unlike the enamored look he used to give me. Whoever she is, she’s someone.
My eyes travel back to him as he strolls up to the bar, and the sense of loss that creeps up on me drags me to a corner in my mind I really don’t want to go. If Garrett sees me here, knowing damn well I don’t belong in a member’s only country club, will he think less of me when I tell him my situation? Cleaning for a family whose sons are no doubt friends of his?
I swallow and look away, catching the tail end of a narrowed stare from Ozzie. It’s too early to excuse myself for the ladies’ room, so I settle into my cushioned chair, glad when a waiter arrives and takes our drinks order. I choose sparkling water, and the boys order sodas. Cindy orders a dry white wine, and when the drinks arrive, the brothers take theirs, stand up from the table and leave.
A flash of irritation widens Cindy’s eyes and tightens her mouth before she schools her features, offering me a frigid smile. All three figures slip out through one of three sets of patio doors. The club’s grounds go on for miles. They could’ve gone anywhere. What’re the odds of them coming back?
It takes no time for Cindy to finish her wine, and she orders another glass from our server. She slots the tip of her fingernail between her teeth, realizes what she’s done, and quickly slips it back out. “Where’s Ray?”
I’m the only other person at the table other than her, but she isn’t speaking to me. She’s restlessly talking to herself, her thumbnail repeatedly flicking over the nail on her wedding finger.
I glance back to Garrett’s table, expecting him to notice me any minute now.
Cindy blows out a relieved sigh. “Here he is now. Would you mind finding my boys for me?”
My eyes snap to Cindy. Her anxious demeanor’s been replaced with a casual smile, and she’s now sipping her wine instead of guzzling it. “Maybe you could call them—”
“Nonsense.” She waves her hand in my direction, her eyes focused elsewhere. It’s the rudest and most disinterested dismissal I’ve ever been given.
A tall, well-dressed man with dark hair, piercing, vivid green eyes, and a five o’clock shadow approaches our table, and even from my periphery, it’s obvious this is Ray, Cindy’s husband. He looks so much like his sons he could have made them on his own.
I barely offer him a smile as I snatch up my purse and then leave the lounge through the same doors Ozzie and his brothers did.
Outside, the coast’s blanketed under a sherbet sky. Ribbons of orange and pink bleeding into the ocean’s calm surface. Freshly cut lawns stretch over rolling hills, and there’s a sprawling golf course and pool.
I don’t know the first place to look for the brothers, and I wander the grounds aimlessly, taking the path that leads away from the club. The whisper of a sea breeze rustles through the trees and lifts my hair from my warm shoulders. It isn’t cold; the cool kiss against my skin feels nice. Refreshing.
I lose track of time while I’m strolling, and the twilight sky has darkened to dusk without me noticing. Water sprinkles from somewhere up ahead, and then I see it. A pond with a water fountain in the center, veiled under the canopy of a weeping willow, the limp branches swaying lazily in the breeze. The path carries on, and there are people sitting on the pond banks. I recognize one of them on first sight, picking him apart easily from the others.
I walk into the group, wishing for the ground to ope
n up and save me from this hellish moment. All eyes are on me, and talk has died down to mumbled words.
A thick cloud of smoke clings to Ozzie as he lies stretched out on his side on the neatly trimmed grass, his weight propped up on one elbow. I don’t look at any one person for too long when I say, “Your dad’s here. Cindy wants you to go inside.”
Ozzie pulls on his cigarette, and there’s a strong, suspicious odor in the air that hits me right between the eyes.
“Lulu, is it?” he says on the exhale, narrowing his eyes through the rising curls of smoke. The girl sitting next to him drops her gaze with a smirk, giving me enough of a reason not to answer him. I won’t be the butt of anyone’s joke.
I’ve said what I needed to, and now I’m leaving. Only when I turn around, there’s a human-shaped roadblock jeopardizing my exit.
He blinks. Once. Twice.
“Lyla?” Garrett’s mouth reopens to speak but he shakes his head instead, a one-sided smile tugging on his lips. “What are you, uh… I mean…” His smile falters, breaking down with confliction. “Did you follow me here?” He leans in as he says it, his gaze wandering over my head. I look into his distinctive gray eyes, then to the girl standing behind him with the curly blonde hair and the unsure expression.
Obnoxious laughter rouses me from my stupor. I turn my head to see Ozzie flick away his joint, the ashy tip sailing through the air. “Get over here, Lyla,” he says, conveniently remembering my name. He voices it on a sharp edge, telling me what to do.
Since he’s the opposite direction to Garrett, and I still haven’t conjured up one word to say to him, I go to Ozzie. I mean, seriously? Garrett thinks I followed him here like some kind of obsessed stalker? A distant ringing fills my ears as I sit down on Ozzie’s left side, sweeping my skirt under me, careful not to ruin the white cotton with fresh-cut grass stains.
“How do you know this asswipe?” Ozzie asks me with an overdone smile on his face. He’s enjoying my discomfort and making no apologies for it. Like hell am I telling any one of these strangers Garrett and I used to date, especially since Garrett’s in no rush to do it. Standing there like I’ve risen from the dead and he’s too afraid of ghosts to move or speak. All because he thinks I followed him. Please. Like yourself much?
I move to stand up, unable to take another minute of this. Ozzie wraps his fingers around my wrist before I can lift my ass off the ground.
“Not so fast, little Lyla.” Ozzie looks at Garrett, and now we have everyone’s attention. “Have you been fucking the help, G?”
I try to ignore what’s going on around me, but the laughter’s louder now. Ozzie’s ugly words puncture my thick skin, stealing my next full breath. The only thing that makes me feel less like shit under his designer shoe is the dismayed look on Garrett’s face.
“What do you mean help?” Garrett glances at me, confusion shading his steel eyes.
“She works for us now. Hope you don’t mind sharing.” Ozzie’s grunt of laughter ignites the embers inside me, sparking up a full-on blaze.
I turn and glare at him. “Fuck you,” I spit. “I wouldn’t touch you even if your mother gave me a hundred percent raise.”
Ozzie doesn’t quit. “You couldn’t afford me, Help.”
“Oz.” Falcon’s deep tenor incites each head present to swivel his way. He’s holding a silver flask and he fastens on the lid, stowing it away in the back pocket of his chinos. “Enough.” He saunters up to me, bends down and captures my hand in his, hauling me to my feet with little to no effort. He squeezes my hand in his huge one, his dangerously dark eyes locked on Garrett.
Garrett’s mouth closes into a firm line. He watches us with suspicion as I dumbly let Falcon lead me past Garrett and the girl who’s sticking close to his side. The girl who I’m pretty sure has replaced me.
Chapter 5
Falcon hops the waist-high picket fence, to the beach’s rolling sand dunes. I raise one leg to climb over, bunching my dress around my thighs. Falcon wraps an arm around my waist, lifting me over the wooden spikes in one swift motion. I slide down his hard body as he sets me onto my feet, my heels sinking into the soft grains of sand.
We separate, and Falcon shoves both hands into his pockets, looking down at my disappearing feet.
I bend to take off my shoes. My gaze snags on the matte black Rolex fastened on Falcon’s wrist, the cuffs of his charcoal shirt rolled to below elbows. I swallow, my eyes mapping the skin on his forearms—his trim waist and powerful thighs. I slip my shoes off, securing both heels in one hand. The creamy sand is cool and silky under my bare feet, but it’s colder here so near to the shore, and I shudder when a barreling wave crashes onto the beach, only a few feet away from us.
Wordlessly, Falcon sits down, stretching one leg out on the sand and draping an arm loosely around the knee bent in front of him. Though I’m unsure about doing so, I sit beside him, facing the ocean, leaving a substantial column of space between us. I tuck my legs under me, dropping my shoes in the sand.
“What’s with Garrett?” Falcon asks. Another wave breaks, frothing water licking at the packed, damp sand before it rinses out with the tide.
“We went out most of last year.” And some of the year before that, but who’s keeping track?
“He dump you?” Falcon is so matter-of-fact, I frown. Like I couldn’t’ve been the one to do the dumping.
“We split up a lot. It was kind of our thing.”
Falcon turns his head, sizing me up with one unashamed look. “I know Garrett, and I’ve never seen him with you. You went out the whole year?”
“We only ended things in May, and I wouldn’t lie about it,” I say, leaning too far over to the defensive side. “If I wanted to conjure up a fake boyfriend, I’d make him more appealing than Garrett Jardine. Why?” Panic flares. “Did you see him with someone else?”
Falcon’s expression is blank, his eyes continuously reading me. “I’ve seen him with a bunch of people, just never you.”
I look away from him, frustrated with his answer. A bunch of people? What’s that supposed to mean? A roundabout way of telling me Garrett’s been with every girl in Cape Pearl?
I can’t help myself. “What’re you trying to say?” The unsettled panic travels into my voice, and I regret hearing my own weakness. Even if I cared, I don’t want Falcon to know that. And I absolutely do not want it getting back to Garrett. Not now he’s hanging out with someone else. I force the name Kenya and Lauren mentioned, but my memory comes up empty. Or unwilling to accept she’s a real person.
“I’m not trying to say anything. I’m telling you I’ve seen him with plenty of people and none of those people were you. Do what you want with that, I don’t give a fuck either way.”
“Then why’d you drag me out here?” I’m two seconds from walking away.
The tip of Falcon’s tongue sweeps over his lower lip as he stares at the ocean, and I don’t hide my irritation as I exhale.
“To help you.”
“To help me?”
“It took me and probably everyone else less than a minute to see that you’ve got it bad for Jardine. The guy’s a bit of a ballsac, but if that’s your scene, I’m not judging you.”
“And that’s helping me, how?”
“Jardine’s so far up his own ass wounded looks won’t get him back in your bed. And that’s where you want him, right? Now Oz’s told everyone you’re mopping our floors in your spare time, that’s not gonna swing it for G, either.”
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… “So, what then?”
“So, I’m going to help you.”
“Why?” The question flies out of my mouth. It seems I’ve lost all control of myself.
“Because you’ll also be helping me.”
And now I’ve lost all coherency of this conversation. “How?”
Falcon slides his hand behind his neck, rubbing the palm over his muscles. “There’s someone on my radar. I figured we could use each other to get what we want.”
I’m so confused, I can’t tell if I’m smiling or frowning. It could be a lethal combination of both. “How will that get us what we want? And how exactly would we use each other?”
“G’s used to getting everything he wants. If he thinks you’re with me, he’s such an arrogant prick, he’ll go after you quicker than he can yank the silver spoon from out of his ass.”
“Wait,” I hold up a hand for Falcon to slow down. “I thought Garrett was your friend.”
“I said I knew him, not that I liked him.”
“You don’t sound like this plan’s just come to you.” I’m suspicious, and with every right. I don’t know Falcon, and he’s hardly been nice or welcoming to me. “It sounds like it’s been well thought out.”
One side of Falcon’s mouth twitches, and he arches a dark eyebrow as he tilts his head to look at me. “It is well thought out. I’ve thought about it since Cindy brought you into her house.”
I don’t dwell on the fact he’s calling her Cindy and not Mom. Her house instead of his. It’s piqued my curiosity, though. But one confusing problem at a time—for now.
“Why me?”
“The idea’s been dormant in the back of my mind since before you came along. But straight up?” My answer is my full attention. “I think you’ll create the most waves. All we need to do is be seen together, show some PDA every now and then—get people talking. The shit-stirrers will do the rest.”
I think it through, considering what I’m being asked with what little I’ve been given. I’m not completely sold on his idea. “How do you know Garrett would fall for it? I don’t think he’ll care. More like really put him off.” I leave out that he’s never fought for me a day in his privileged life.
“Because you’ll be with me.” Falcon’s smirk reeks of confidence. “He’s going to fucking hate it.”
“That’s just it,” I quickly say. “I work for you now. Who’s going to buy into this?”