Page 3 of Starlight Bay

“Nope. Not doing it again.” I shook my head hard, trying to dislodge the image of my now ex-girlfriend banging my now ex-best friend on our formerly shared couch. I’d generously let them keep it in the break-up.

“Sure, dude,” Logan said, handing me a cold green beer bottle before taking a slurp of his.

“Seriously. I’m gonna just concentrate on me this year. Growing the business, maintaining my fitness.”

“Maybe you’ll get a plant,” Logan said, deadpan.

“Shut the hell up. I already have a plant, thank you very much. A cactus. And I’m putting it on the right side of the bed to ward off any evil female juju thinking about coming my way.”

“Dude, you’re a mess.” Logan’s voice trailed off as his eyes followed a busty brunette across the room.

“Go,” I said in a low voice. “Have fun. Meet me back here at 12:01 AM. I don’t want to be out all night.”

“Thanks, Mr. Killjoy.” He shot me a wolfish grin and stalked after the brunette.

I stood alone in the corner, sipping my beer and avoiding eye contact. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I had zero desire to talk about playing in the NHL or home renovation nightmares, my two specialties.

To head off any potentially awkward conversations, I made my way out of the boathouse and walked down to the beach. The best part about coming home to Starlight Bay was being back on the ocean. The sound of the surf crashing on the shore instantly calmed me, my shoulders relaxing as soon as my feet hit the sand. Living in Boston had its perks, but the traffic and all the people made me anxious. Starlight Bay was more my speed, and I could still get to the city in under an hour if I timed it right. The best of both worlds.

It started to snow, fat flakes swirling around me. The wind picked up, cold air stinging my face, so I reluctantly turned back towards the party. I checked my watch—only five minutes until midnight. Then I could grab my brother and head home to my cactus.

I scanned the crowd, searching for Logan, and spotted him across the room. He was with the brunette, his hands flying through the air as he told what I’m sure he thought was a funnystory. She threw her head back, laughing, so she either liked him or was very drunk. My brother was a lot of things, but I wouldn’t put funny at the top of that list.

“Bro!” Logan slapped me hard on the back. “This is…” Long, awkward pause as my brother fumbled around for her name.

“Rachel,” the brunette said, thrusting her hand out at me, her eyes roaming up and down my body.

“Nice to meet you, Rachel,” I said in an even tone, giving her my most uninterested vibe.

“Your brother told me you were in the NHL. That’s so cool.” She looked up at me through long false lashes.

“Yeah, it was fun while it lasted,” I said, shrugging. “But I’m glad to be back home.”

Logan threw his arm around my neck, pulling me in tight. “And we’re glad you’re back, baby brother.” He rubbed my head in a noogie and I brushed him off.

“Can you believe this guy?” Logan patted me hard on the chest. “He said he’s swearing off dating.”

“Really?” Rachel said, her voice falling. “That’s too bad.”

“I know, right? Think of all the disappointed ladies out there.” Logan leaned in close to Rachel, harsh-whispering loudly into her ear. “I bet he won’t even last six months, though. This guy is never single.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed. “Not true. I’ve been single. A lot.”

“Uh-huh, right. I think I remember back in the seventh grade when you didn’t have a date to the holiday dance. Wait, no, not true. That was me.”

“Dude, shut up.”

The countdown started and the lights dimmed, but my brother kept on.

“Really. How much do you wanna bet? Because I could use the extra cash.” He winked at Rachel and she shot him a wansmile. This was beyond awkward and I wanted to save my brother from making an even bigger ass of himself.

“Shut up. I’m not betting you over my New Year’s Resolution.”

“’Cause you know you’ll never make it. And I thought you didn’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions?” He ribbed me again, and I slugged him in the arm.

“Ten, nine, eight,”The countdown echoed off the planked walls of the boathouse.

“One hundred dollars you don’t make it to June.”

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