Resisting Love

by Kat Bellemore

  Leanne’s stomach rumbled, and she looked longingly toward the table of food that had been set up next to the grill, but she knew that this would be the worst time to bring up her hunger.

  She quickened her steps to catch up with Frederick, who was still ranting as if she’d been by his side all along. “All of the scripts coming out of Hollywood nowadays are trash. I thought that if I could find just the right person—just the right talent—that maybe when I’m no longer writing for the big screen, I could feel comfortable that someone was here to take my place. That the art of screenwriting would live on.” He tossed a withering glance in her direction. “I’m starting to think I was wrong. Maybe that’s just what Hollywood does. Produces garbage.”

  Leanne stopped, not believing he could mean what he was saying. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve stayed up all night, trying to finish screenplays for you. I’ve bought the dresses and gone to the events. I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror anymore.”

  “And yet, it has all gone out the window. One evening, and all of that work now means nothing,” Frederick said, pausing as he turned back to face Leanne. “Rather than compliment our host on his estate, you tell him it’s not good enough because he didn’t manage to include the ocean. And then wearing that ridiculous dress…”

  “It’s not ridiculous,” Leanne practically shouted, mostly to keep her tears from spilling over, though it didn’t seem to make a difference as she felt the moisture making trails down her cheeks. “And I wasn’t insulting him. I was just… It’s not home. No matter how beautiful or expensive it is.”

  “And so you thought you’d tell Eli Hunt how much better you are than him.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Leanne said. “I was just a bit homesick is all.”

  Frederick shook his head in disgust. “And that small-town attitude of yours will be your undoing.”

  “I guess it already has been.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m done here.” Leanne said, glancing away. She needed to break the hold he had on her. “I’m going home.”

  “You can’t possibly mean…”

  “That I would give up everything that we’ve been working for? Yes. I do.”

  Leanne stormed across the grass and past the wraparound porch, not bothering to stop and say goodbye to Eli Hunt. Even the plates filled with burgers and steaks and potato salad weren’t enough to keep her there a minute longer.

  Leanne was returning to Starlight Ridge.

  2

  Isaac glanced over his shoulder, while at the same time brushing a strand of wet hair out of his eyes. There it was. Finally. But the wait had been worth it. He could already tell that this wave was going to be the one that he’d end on. And he couldn’t help but notice a couple of bikini-clad women watching from the beach. Time to show off for the tourists.

  He turned his back on the wave, lay down on his surfboard, and started paddling toward shore. “Come on, Marlin,” he said to his board. His muscles rippled as he pushed himself forward. Not many people knew just how strong he was—how strong he needed to be to surf—considering he almost always wore a wetsuit to protect himself from the bite of the cold ocean water.

  Isaac’s attention shifted back to the wave. He could sense it coming closer. Just a moment more and it would be right behind him. When others asked how he knew it was there, he never knew what to tell them. It was just a feeling—an instinct that he’d honed over the years. When you’d been surfing as long as he had, ever since he was a young boy, it became second nature.

  Just as he’d predicted, Isaac felt the wave start to lift him, and he pushed down on the rails of the board, popping up to his feet in one swift motion. He could feel eyes on him, watching. But the tourists didn’t matter, at least not at the moment. Nothing but this wave mattered. He’d been right. It was a good one.

  Isaac stood sideways on the board, crouched in a low position, and let the wave push him forward. A feeling of euphoria filled his chest—it always did. No matter how big or small the wave, it felt like the first time, every time. This wave was his, but he also knew that it went both ways. One wrong move, one faulty stance, and the water wouldn’t hesitate to crush him. He felt the wave start to drop out from beneath him, and he threw his weight forward. As he reached the bottom of the wave, he stepped on the tail of the board and made a swift turn into it.

  After a few more turns, the wave dissipated, and he glided into shore, jumping off just as he reached the sand. He grinned and shook the water out of his hair as he picked up Marlin and walked to where he’d left his shoes and towel. Judging by the sun, he figured he had just enough time to walk home and shower before he’d have to be right back on the beach, ready to hang out at the lifeguard station all day. He didn’t mind it as long as he got in his fun first.

  Isaac didn’t have a car, so he usually just stripped off the wetsuit there on the beach and covered his Speedo with a pair of swimming shorts. He’d only gotten the top half of the wetsuit off when one of the women who’d been watching him surf walked up. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends, like they’d dared her to come over.

  “Hi,” she said, then giggled as she stole another glance over her shoulder.

  Oh, no. She was going to be one of those tourists. He hesitated, not really wanting to finish stripping down with her standing right there but also needing to get home.

  Isaac said, “Hi,” but didn’t say more, hoping she’d get the hint that he wasn’t interested in small talk at the moment.

  She didn’t get the hint. “I couldn’t help but notice you surfing out there,” she said. “It was impressive.” And then she giggled again.

  He had to refrain from rolling his eyes. It wasn’t like he could blame her for taking notice, considering he did tend to surf best when people were watching. An innate part of him enjoyed showing off, getting praise and all that.

  But once Isaac’s feet hit the shore, he was over it.

  “Thank you,” he said. Then, with a pointed look at his wetsuit that was still half-hanging off him, he smiled in a way that he hoped conveyed, Uh, do you mind?

  The woman apparently didn’t mind, because she took his smile to mean I think you’re hot. Please, keep talking to me. Which she did.

  At first, Isaac nodded, trying to be polite, but this seemed to only encourage her. If he didn’t get going soon, he wouldn’t have time to get all the way home and back again before his shift was supposed to start. But every time he tried to tell the woman that she’d need to excuse him, that he really did need to get going, she’d talk right over him. Either she couldn’t recognize subtle cues in a conversation or she chose to ignore them. Eventually Isaac had to forgo any semblance of modesty and strip down as she continued her endless chatter.

  He really wished he was the type of guy who didn’t mind the bunching up of board shorts under his wetsuit, especially at moments like these, but the Speedo suit he currently wore was so much more comfortable while surfing. Unfortunately, that meant it was small and tight, and not something he liked to show off. Judging by the shocked and delighted expression on the woman’s face as he worked on pulling his legs out of the wetsuit, she was okay with it.

  Isaac had one leg out and nearly had the other one free, but he was trying to do it too quickly, and his foot caught, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the sand.

  “Oh my gosh, let me help you,” the woman said, hurrying toward him. She was smiling, her arms outstretched, seemingly going in slow motion as she moved in.

  Isaac launched himself out of her reach and crab-walked backwards, dragging his wetsuit with him. Great. He now had sand in his Speedo and in other unmentionable places, and his wetsuit was going to need a very thorough washing. Usually he could get away with a quick spray-down until he had more time to give it the attention it needed.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine,” he said. Even he heard the des
peration in his voice.

  A low voice from behind him said, “I don’t know that you are.”

  Isaac’s head swiveled, and he released a sigh of relief. Caleb. The man was a mix between friend and older brother. And Isaac had never been so glad to see him. Isaac stuck a hand out and Caleb grabbed it, pulling him to his feet. Holding onto Caleb’s shoulder for balance, Isaac managed to pull his foot free of the wetsuit. He straightened and pulled his shoulders back, like he wasn’t at all embarrassed to be standing in public, practically naked, his Speedo covering so little.

  “Thank you for the delightful conversation, but I need to get ready for work,” he said to the woman, who had backed up a few steps with Caleb’s sudden appearance. “If you’ll excuse me…” Isaac marched past her, grabbed his swim trunks and pulled them over his Speedo, slipped on his flip-flops, and then slung his wetsuit and towel over one shoulder. Head held high, he made his way across the sand, trying to ignore the catcalls from the poor woman’s friends, and hurried home to his little bungalow.

  Isaac groaned as he grabbed the special shampoo he would use to wash the wetsuit, and got to work. He felt bad about the whole encounter, at least a little bit anyway. He hoped he hadn’t scarred the woman. He’d seen the pained expression that had flitted across her face as she’d bent forward to help him. He’d jumped away so quickly at the prospect of her touching him, he didn’t blame her for being hurt by it.

  But she had been so…forward. Isaac knew he exuded a confident persona—he did that on purpose—but he wasn’t comfortable with random encounters like that. He didn’t mind chatting with tourists while he was on duty as a lifeguard. He was used to women hitting on him. They would always ask him where he was from as a way to start talking to him, because his dark skin and even darker hair gave them the impression he was a native of Hawaii or somewhere exotic rather than a local California boy.

  The difference, though, was that he was always sitting above them in his little station, just out of arm’s reach. There was some distance there. And he was always at least wearing board shorts.

  After hanging up his wetsuit to dry, and then showering, he sprinted back down to the beach, ready to keep tourists from doing anything stupid while in the ocean. Or he’d at least try. He hadn’t had to save anyone from drowning for a couple of weeks, so that was something. With September just around the corner, the crowds were already starting to thin.

  Thankfully, the women from earlier were no longer there. They’d probably leave a nasty online review about how rude the surfers were in Starlight Ridge, and how they’d find a different beach next time. Isaac should care, because tourism was how the small town survived. The few months of summer had to set them up for the entire year. But he was having a hard time being anything but relieved.

  Isaac settled into his seat in the lifeguard station, a whistle hanging around his neck. Before he had time to get too comfortable, though, someone said, “That was quite the display you put on earlier.”

  Isaac laughed and gave a quick shake of his head. “It would have been more of one if you hadn’t been there.” He looked down at Caleb, whose grin seemed to take up his entire face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “Anything for you.”

  Isaac knew Caleb meant that, but there was something else in his friend’s tone—something that made his stomach clench up. Isaac was about to receive a lecture.

  Caleb walked closer and leaned on the lifeguard station, his gaze settling on the ocean. “I’ll never get bored of the view.”

  Isaac knew that feeling well. He still got a thrill every time he carried his surfboard across the sand, the sun just starting to wake. In that moment, everything seemed so perfect. All of his anxieties and worries melted away. “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  “Am I?” Caleb threw a side glance at Isaac, one eyebrow cocked. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that you were crab-walking away from a beautiful woman, one who seemed to be very interested in you. I wondered if maybe you’d grown too accustomed to the view to notice what was in front of you.”

  Yup. Here it was. Isaac was used to Caleb’s speeches.

  “I was in a hurry,” he said with a shrug. “I barely got back here in time for my shift.”

  Other than an amused snort, Caleb remained quiet, his gaze returning to the rolling waves in front of them.

  A few people were beginning to venture out into the cold water, but most were still enjoying the sun from their towels and beach chairs. Isaac had never understood the appeal of lathering creams over their exposed skin, then just lying there, begging the sun to give them cancer.

  Some of them seemed to be reading, but Isaac knew it was all a show—part of the mating ritual. They would hold a book open on their laps, usually some high-class literary nonsense, but their minds were far from the words on the pages. He doubted they even knew what the book was about, probably bought it at the airport. Rather than reading the book, their gazes were instead on the other scantily clad tourists as they scoped out who they hoped would stop to strike up a conversation. Because that was what the books were really for—a pick-up line. The reader would see someone approaching, and their gaze would drop to their book. They’d turn the page. After a moment, the approaching tourist would say something like, “I’ve been thinking of reading that one. How are you liking it so far?” And so the ritual commenced.

  Caleb still hadn’t said anything. Isaac gave his friend a side glance and asked, “Don’t you have a business you’re supposed to be running?”

  “Nope.” Caleb smirked. He knew what he was doing—he was using Isaac’s innate curiosity against him. It was the only way to weasel a little heart-to-heart out of Isaac, and Caleb had figured it out years ago. “My eight o’clock scuba lesson canceled, and Bree can manage on her own for a few minutes.”

  “It used to be that you wouldn’t leave your store during the day, even for a five-minute lunch.” That’s right, turn the conversation so we’re talking about Caleb instead.

  Caleb shifted his weight and stretched his arms above his head, twisting his back as he did it. It was almost as if he wanted to prove to Isaac that he wasn’t in any hurry. “That was before Bree. I’ve changed.”

  And for Caleb, it wasn’t just an idle saying. It really was true. His friend was relaxed, happy, and seemed to enjoy life more. Marriage looked good on Caleb. But right now, Isaac couldn’t admit any of that. Not until he knew Caleb’s real reason for being on the beach, at his lifeguard station.

  “The right someone could change things for you too,” Caleb said.

  Oh, it was going to be this speech. Isaac had been on the receiving end of this one a few times already. “I’m sure it could, but I’m still young. I have time.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Caleb said. “But…” He released a sigh and finally allowed himself to fully face Isaac. “Even a young guy—especially a young guy—would have been flattered by the attention from a good-looking tourist. And you ran away from her. Literally.”

  So, Caleb thought that something was wrong with Isaac. It wouldn’t be the first time. And his friend was right, Isaac was broken, and in more ways than anyone even realized. But not wanting to get involved with a random stranger was the least of his worries. “Look, you’re like family to me,” Isaac said, running a hand through his hair. “You care about me. I get it. But really, you don’t need to be concerned. I get hit on by random women all day long, and I’m just kind of tired of it. That’s all.”

  Caleb didn’t seem entirely convinced. He hesitated for a second before saying, “It has nothing to do with Leanne?”

  His friend might as well have stabbed Isaac in the stomach, then twisted the knife. It wouldn’t have hurt any less. Isaac swallowed hard, willing himself not to say anything he’d regret. “You know better than to bring her up.”

  “I know.” His friend took a step back, as though sensing the danger he’d put himself in by using the one word—the one name—that was off limits. Leanne. “
It’s just… If she’s the reason you’re…why you don’t…”

  Isaac straightened and gave his friend a hard stare. “Let me be clear. And then you will never bring it up again. That woman has no hold on me. I’m over her. Done. I am master of my own fate, and wherever she is, it has no bearing on me or whether I choose to flirt with a random tourist or crab-walk away.” He emphasized his last statement with a glare to make sure that Caleb knew this conversation was over. The man might be akin to an older brother, but even brothers needed to know when they had crossed a line.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” Caleb said, his hands held up in surrender. “I know you’re all good.” He forced a smile and a wave before walking away, back toward his store on the boardwalk.

  As soon as Caleb’s back was turned, Isaac slumped back against his chair. If only Caleb knew.

  Because the fact was that Isaac wasn’t all good. And he wasn’t over Leanne. And he wasn’t master of his own fate. If Leanne ever showed up on the beach again, he’d run toward her, slow-motion style, and lift her off her feet. He wouldn’t ask where she’d been or why she’d stopped answering his calls. None of that would matter. Because she would be back, and she would be with him.

  And he’d never let her go. Not again.

  At least, that was what he liked to tell himself.

  It was easy when there was no chance of testing how his fantasies compared to reality.

  3

  Leanne stood on the front porch of Starlight Bed and Breakfast. She’d decided to surprise her parents, but she now wondered if that was overly dramatic—a byproduct of living around Hollywood types for too long. Maybe it wouldn’t be like in the movies, where everyone is screaming and hugging with joy. Anything less than that would seem anticlimactic.

  She should have called.

  It wasn’t too late. She could go down to the beach and call them—pretend she wasn’t in Starlight Ridge yet and give them time to get used to the idea of her moving back home. What if they had turned her bedroom into a guest room? She hadn’t thought of that.