The Men of Laguna

by Kim Karr

  Get a vibrator

  Don’t plan your day for the next thirty days

  Take a nude selfie

  Read an erotic romance novel in public

  Just looking at him, I can tell he’s a player, so it’s not like either of us will get hurt when this goes nowhere.

  And besides, what is it they say—take what you can get?

  I look over at Andre, who is grinning at me.

  Maybe I just will.

  10

  Musical Chairs

  Cam

  Living with your best friend’s famous little brother isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

  In fact, sometimes it fucking sucks.

  After pulling a double to try to earn some extra cash to pay my sister back for the plane ticket, I walk into the house and want to cover my ears immediately.

  “Oh, God, faster, faster, that’s it, faster!” It’s the shout of another unknown chick and she’s just like the last one, and the one before her.

  Seriously, all I can do is laugh. Again. Because he’s fucking another girl. Again. And again she’s screaming about it from the rooftop—not literally, but I’m willing to guess she would if she could.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a cock-blocker, but fuck me, every girl Brooklyn ends up with thinks she’s up for a starring role in his next series. And he has no intention of ever doing another, so they put on a show without knowing it’s for nothing.

  There are times I actually feel sorry for the dude. Good-looking young guy gets a role on an MTV reality series about teenage surfers and even though the show has ended, every girl still remembers him from Chasing the Sun. They all want to be his leading lady on whatever he’s certain to star in next.

  It’s not like he lures them in with that. He doesn’t lie. He tells them there isn’t going to be a next. I’ve heard him; they just don’t listen. The irony of it all is that it’s me who ends up listening.

  With my head still on the girl from the plane—the smoking-hot sex we were about to have, the sudden derailment, and then her more-than-uptight response to getting caught—I just can’t handle it tonight.

  Needing to get the fuck out of here, I quickly hop in the shower, run my hands through my hair, throw on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and pause for a moment to shake my head.

  “Oh God, oh God, that’s it, that’s it, don’t stop.” The lines are all the same. I’m starting to wonder seriously if someone hasn’t posted a script somewhere on the Internet for how to play the role of Brooklyn James’s fucking partner.

  Shoving my feet in my boots, I make a mental note to do a search on that and then head over to Maggie’s to catch a beer with her.

  The path down the side of Maggie’s house to the kitchen door is wetter than usual and my boots slosh over the stepping-stones. Slowing my pace, I’m surprised to hear music playing. When I look ahead, the patio has a dim glow coming from it.

  Can’t remember the last time I saw Maggie outside on the patio at night; she’s normally either inside on the couch or out at the beach.

  “Hey, Maggie,” I call out as I round the corner, “how about a beer?” Just as I’m about to hustle for the kitchen door and put the twelve-pack in my hand in the refrigerator, I stop dead in my tracks.

  No fucking way.

  I can’t move.

  How did she get here?

  Maybe the sun got to me today and I’m seeing things. I blink a couple of times to be certain. Nothing changes, though. The image in front of me is still that of her. The woman from the plane, the one I thought I’d never see again, the very same one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

  In an instant, our gazes lock. Her eyes are wide, not quite as startled as mine but almost, and her mouth falls open. There are words to be spoken. Introductions to be made. Right now, though, I can’t seem to do anything but stare at her.

  From the minute I first laid eyes on her, there was something refreshing about her. Sure, she’s a natural beauty with all that shiny light-brown hair and that killer body, her softly upturned nose, and those stunning hazel eyes. Oh, and I can’t forget those long, long legs or pink lips, either. Yet, it wasn’t just her looks that attracted me to her.

  It was her sharp wit, her ability to laugh at herself with the fucking sexiest laugh I’d ever heard, and that quirky guard that she had up and then let down so easily. Which was dangerous as well, and I damn well knew it. Hence why I didn’t try harder to go after her. I wasn’t anything she needed, and I knew she wasn’t anything I needed in my fucked-up life right now.

  Everyone at the table is already turned in my direction. When my gaze circles the seating arrangement, the wine, the candles, the empty dinner plates, and the guest list, I feel an odd sense of outrage. The girl from the plane dumped me like I was nothing, and now she’s getting cozy with that douchebag Andre Randle.

  Randle.

  Fucking douchebag Randle.

  Shitty businessman with a bad rep for fucking every girl that works for him, and a little roughly, I might add. Word is that his fraternization policy is strictly enforced in a way that comes across as fuck me or be fucked.

  What is Maggie thinking, bringing him around her best friend?

  Then again, she might not know. I do only because I’ve heard about how unethical his business dealings are.

  “Cam,” Maggie answers in surprise, her eyes darting to the girl from the plane that must be her best friend.

  Does Maggie know about her friend and me?

  If so, how?

  No invitation is given to join them. So, I have two options here. One, I can be cordial and say “sorry, I didn’t know you had company” and leave. Or two, I can sit the fuck down and officially meet the girl Maggie has been gushing about since I moved next door six months ago. The same one I already had my mouth and hands all over.

  The first is unacceptable. The second is bold. I go for it. “Hey,” I raise my arm with the beer in it, “mind if I join you? I have enough to go around.”

  How can she say no to that? Right?

  Maggie jumps to her feet, her eyes still on her friend. “No, not all. We have leftovers if you’re hungry. Let me grab you a plate.”

  Like I said, she wouldn’t say no.

  Fidgeting in her seat, the girl from the plane looks like she might pass out at any minute.

  This is going to be very interesting.

  Stepping closer to the table, I shake my head. “Thanks, but I grabbed something at the beach.”

  Derek gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Hey, man, how are you?”

  I plop the twelve-pack of Corona in the center of the table, closer to my almost fuck buddy than any of the other three, and then I grasp his hand. “Living the dream, man, living the dream.”

  Clearing space for me on the table, he and Maggie begin to stack some of the dirty dishes. “Cam, you know my business partner, Andre Randle, don’t you?” he says.

  The douchebag stands and the girl from the plane follows.

  Oh, good, we’re all standing around the table now. Perfect. Fucking fantastic. Maybe we can join hands and say a little prayer.

  “Yeah, we’ve met.” I offer the douchebag my hand and we shake.

  “Camden Waters,” Maggie says, sounding more cheerful than she had at first, “this is my best friend, Makayla Alexander from New York.”

  Makayla.

  I like it.

  It sounds good on my tongue.

  Being a dick isn’t something I make a habit out of, but there is no pretending we hadn’t almost fucked less than twenty-four hours ago. Determined to make sure she hasn’t forgotten, I step around Maggie and Derek and dive right in to kiss her cheek, my hands grasping her arms maybe just a little too hard while I do. “Makayla,” I growl into her ear and then pull back. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Considering the way you bolted on me, I don’t bother adding.

  She shivers under my touch and this close to her, I can see the rise and fall of he
r shoulders as her breath catches. “Maggie told me you were her neighbor,” she admits.

  “You two know each other?” Derek asks, refilling wineglasses all around the table.

  “Yeah, small world, right? They met on the plane,” Maggie tells Derek.

  I throw Maggie a confused look.

  She shrugs. “Makayla saw you talking to me at the airport, and asked if I knew you.” Maggie seems a little uncomfortable talking about it.

  She knows.

  She definitely knows.

  “Let me get you a glass,” she offers.

  “No, I got it,” Derek tells her and heads toward the house.

  “Hey, man, I’m good with beer,” I call to him.

  “Then let me grab another chair from inside.”

  “Thanks, babe,” Maggie tells him, sitting down.

  It was either going to be a chair from the kitchen or I’d be pulling a lounge up to their cozy table for four and stretching myself out on it. Maybe not a bad idea after all.

  Andre looks toward Makayla and with his chin, indicates she should sit too. Blood boils in my veins when she starts to do so because of his silent request. Do they know each other? They can’t. She’s new and must be unaware of his reputation, in business and with women.

  Unable to control myself, I move to push her chair in. “Here, let me help you,” I offer, invading her space.

  Makayla looks like she’s still having trouble breathing. I’m available for mouth-to-mouth if she needs it. I am certified, after all. “Thank you, but I’m good,” she responds, her voice catching on the words.

  Happy with the reaction I elicited, I let go of the chair, grab a beer, and offer it to Maggie. “They’re cold.”

  She nods, reaching out her hand. “Sure, I’ll have one.”

  The gentleman that I am, I pop the top before handing it to her. Hoisting another bottle, I offer it to Andre even though I’d rather not. Couldn’t stand the dude before, really can’t now. He raises a hand in refusal. “I’m good with wine.”

  Thumbing the top off, I tip the bottle back for a long swig. I need it.

  Makayla’s eyes are on me, watching me, and that breathing of hers seems to be growing a little more excited with every swallow I make.

  Time to find out what her deal is.

  Figuring why the hell not, I take Derek’s seat.

  “Did you want a beer, Makayla?” Andre asks, glaring at me as if I’m the asshole he thinks I am.

  “She doesn’t drink beer,” I bite out. “It bothers her stomach.” And I glare back, knowing he is the asshole I think he is.

  That shuts him up.

  “Here you go.” Derek is standing close to the table, with one of Maggie’s white leather kitchen chairs in his hands. When he sees I’m already sitting, he sets it between Maggie and Andre. “I’ll take it.”

  I should offer to switch, but at this point, it’s done, and besides, I’m right where I want to be.

  Andre stares at Makayla and me as if trying to figure us out. “So tell me about how you two met.”

  She seems to have recovered from the shock of seeing me and sits up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. This isn’t the time to be drooling over a chick, but she looks sexy as fuck in that white dress, which hugs her small tits tightly and keeps them in the perfect place. I doubt she’s wearing a bra, and the thought of sliding my hand inside the fabric gives me cause to sit up straighter myself.

  She glares at me with what looks like a frown. When she turns and sweetly smiles at Andre, it twists my gut. What the fuck? “We sat next to each on the plane, that’s all,” she tells him, not sounding the least bit convincing.

  His dark eyes shift between the two of us in suspicion and then land on her hazel ones. “So let me get this straight: the two of you were seatmates for the long plane trip from New York to California and the entire time you never discovered you’d soon be neighbors?”

  “No, we didn’t.” She laughs. “Crazy, right?”

  Laughs. Like it’s fucking funny. There’s some insane madness circling my brain right now and I can’t help but scowl. It’s anything but funny. If she’d spoken to me after the bathroom, we might have.

  The douche leans closer toward her and I tighten my grip on my bottle. “Guess you didn’t talk much,” he says smugly.

  Fucking hell. Now that simply isn’t true. Finishing another swig of my beer, I lean my elbows on the table. “Sure we did, didn’t we, Makayla?” I say to her—or maybe I hiss it, I’m not certain. Everything is a little red right now in my haze of anger. “In fact, our mouths never stopped moving,” I toss out there because I can. Because it’s true. My tongue moved inside her mouth, hers moved inside mine, we explored each other like we were searching for food and hadn’t eaten in days.

  Okay, so maybe everything is a little green, not red. Still, I’m not jealous. Just pissed. Fucking pissed as hell, actually.

  There’s this part of me that wants to go on and tell him that we got to know each other so well in fact that we almost fucked in the bathroom, but when I see her body stiffen, I stop myself.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maggie nudge Derek. Seconds later, he clears his throat. “Hey, Andre, what do you think about calling that supplier from Mexico to see if they have any contacts to get the materials Makayla needs for her necklaces? I’d love to start selling them.”

  Andre swings his gaze toward Derek. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “I have a supplier in Brazil that offers the best quality stones. I think I’ll stick with him, but thank you,” says Makayla.

  Smart girl.

  The smirk on my face isn’t for any reason. “So, you’re thinking about selling those gemstone necklaces locally?” I ask her.

  Makayla switches her gaze back to mine and her eyes are small slits of fiery anger. Whoa, she is pissed. “Yes, I am. Andre and Derek have already offered to help me out,” she answers tersely. “And how do you know about them?”

  Maggie puts her hand up. “That would be me. I told him about your necklaces and how I thought you should sell them. Oh, and I gave him one to give to his sister, too.”

  Andre breezes right over this small exchange. “Listen, Makayla, I know I said no more business tonight, but you really should consider the supplier I have. His prices can’t be beat.”

  Andre is an insistent bastard. A little pushy, if you ask me. “That’s because his product is shit,” I blurt out before Makayla can even answer him.

  Everyone around the table swings their heads in my direction.

  Okay, I could have been a little more tactful.

  The hot-headed Latino is a sight. He looks like he might lose his shit, and on me. Come on, bring it. I’m so ready to take him on. But when Makayla hisses, “How would you even know anything about it? You’re a lifeguard,” I feel like she just slapped me.

  Defenses up, I tell it like it is. “I know that because he’s selling surfboards made of the poorest quality resin and they’re busting while dudes are surfing. Five guys have had to go to the hospital in the past six weeks.”

  Andre points his finger at me. “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

  I push up from the table, ready to lunge across it. “Yeah, I do.”

  Makayla grabs my arm and glares at me. “Stop it.”

  I glare back. “I will if you talk to me. Alone. Right now.”

  Two choices. Ignore me and learn how badly this douchebag runs his business or talk to me and I’ll stand down. She looks at me with those hazel eyes filled with anger. “Yes, talking is probably a good idea.”

  I give her a nod. It’s about fucking time she tells me what happened on that plane. Makayla turns to Andre and whispers something. My fists ball at my sides, ready to take him on. He nods and then glares at me. “We aren’t done here, Waters.”

  Plucking the beer from the table if only to stop myself from punching him right this second, I glare right back. “No, we’re no
t, but our beef is meant for another place, Randle.”

  I look toward Maggie. “Sorry about this.”

  She glares at me, too.

  This mood of mine has put me in a ton of shit.

  “Come find me, anytime. You know where I am,” Andre barks out.

  “I will,” I tell him, and then stalk for the privacy doors that lead to the beach with Makayla hot on my heels.

  The door slams closed behind her and I keep walking all the way down to the water. When I reach the shoreline, I drop the beer to the sand and turn around.

  Within moments she catches up to me. The moon and stars above are our only light, and the beach is quiet except for the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore. We’re alone. All alone.

  Makayla points her finger at me. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

  Tired of this game, or whatever it is, I step toward her and the words slip off my tongue without thought. “Why are you being such an uptight bitch?”

  The look on her face is as if I’d stabbed her. Rather than responding to me, she starts running down the beach.

  “Makayla, wait,” I call out.

  “Go to hell.”

  Baby, I’m already there.

  11

  My Eyes Are Up Here

  Makayla

  No trees, no shrubbery, no brick walls, or buses or cars, nothing for miles and miles. The beach is a beautiful thing, but right now it’s my ruin. There’s no place to run. No place to hide.

  “Why are you being such an uptight bitch?” The words he spoke are still echoing in my ears.

  Ringing.

  Stinging.

  Causing way too much pain.

  The only eight words in the world that could destroy me and he managed to find them. Just keep moving, I tell myself. You ran track. He’ll give up. One sandal, then the other, gets lost in the sand. I don’t care. I just keep going. My heart is beating so fast that it’s catching in my throat and causing my body to tremble.

  “Makayla, wait.” His voice is close.