Page 3 of Love is Grand

The windows were open, allowing a light breeze to filter in, along with the ever-present island humidity that threatened to return my just-straightened hair to salty natural curls.

Tony always said I was the quintessential beach beauty, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, trying to get me to agree to go out with him. He’d say my skin was perfectly bronze and my curls were perfect.

But none of his BS really mattered because I didn’t care for him in that way. Tony was a project, and I’d already failed at a project like that. Ricky was my biggest failure.

Despite his compliments not swaying me to date him, Tony was a great guy. One of the best. Dedicated, loyal, and compassionate—he had all the character traits I should be looking for in a replacement father for Weezie. Only problem was Tony was a recovering alcoholic, and that scared me. Not to mention, he didn’t do it for me. I always liked the bad boy ... or the bad-for-me man, as in my current situation.

Blowing out a long breath, I pulled my mint-green satin tank top from the top drawer and slipped it over my head. The color did pop against my skin.

I shooed the thought from my mind because chasing the bad boy had already gotten me in trouble once, leaving me with an MIA husband and a daughter. Of course, Weezie was a wonderful bonus, but she deserved a dad. An involved dad, not an asshole who was off somewhere “discovering” himself.

Discovering his dick is more like it.

Freaking Ricky and his never-ending bellyaching over needing time to really know who he was, blaming my getting pregnant for his sad life, saddling him with a family and keeping him on this island.

Whatever. I deserve to have fun too.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I ran my fingers through my hair and then applied a pale pink lip gloss. I slipped my feet into wedge sandals, my anklet with seashell charms tinkling with my every movement.

I’d admired the anklet every time I went over to the Grand, drooling over the expensive trinket sitting front and center in the display window of the overpriced jewelry store near the elevator. I made the mistake of stopping to look at it one day last year when I was delivering some coffee to the resort for my dad ...

I’d been standing there staring at the gorgeous anklet in the window when a man came up behind me and whispered, “Beautiful.”

Caught up in the moment, and maybe drowning a little in my own self-pity now that Ricky was gone, although I was the only one who knew it yet, I’d whispered, “It is.”

We stood there for a while, the man’s front nearly touching my back. He was so close, I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck, but I wasn’t scared. Whoever he was, he radiated an aura of being in complete control. He seemed like the type of man who was always in charge of who, what, where, when, and why.

“It would look stunning on you,” he said, sliding his palm down my arm and turning me to face him.

A man had never been so forward with me, taking such liberties in touching me without permission, and I never imagined myself to be the type who would allow it. When men got chummy with me at work, they got a tongue-lashing and the brush-off.

“I’m sorry,” he said unapologetically. “I wanted to see your face.”

I blinked at the gorgeous man in front of me, wondering what was happening to me. He was tall, with dark blond hair and yummy brown eyes, and a smile that I was sure had melted panties since he was sixteen.

He took a step back, putting some space between us, and said, “Cal,” holding out his hand in introduction.

I stared at his large hand a beat or two before slipping mine in his. “Shell.”

He smiled, and I nearly swooned. “Makes the bracelet even more appropriate.”

Trying to pull myself together, I said, “It’s an anklet, actually. My parents love this island, what can I say? I’ve lived here all my life. In fact, I’m delivering some coffee for my dad.”

Holding up the bag to proudly display the family coffee shop’s label, I sounded like a naive idiot who had never dated. Actually, I hadn’t dated much. I got pregnant at nineteen.

“It’s a beautiful island. By the way, I’ve seen that coffee before. My brother had some yesterday with his friend, Rylan. Must be a popular place.”

“Ry? She’s a good friend of my dad’s. She was over at Camila’s earlier in the week with a guy. Your brother, I’m guessing.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The man ran his hand through his hair, and I noted flecks of gold dancing in his brown eyes, beckoning me.

Clearing my throat, I tried to think what I must look like to him, ultracasual in jean shorts and a pale pink tank top. At least my hair was down and smooth, not curly like it usually was.

“Ry doesn’t really date, so probably. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“He can be. I got dragged here for him, but it’s not that bad of a place to get stuck. At least, what I’ve seen of it.”

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