Page 3 of Love is a Roller Coaster

My stomach sank just as fast as she dropped to the ground when she saw me.

As I enter the inn, I chuckle to myself at her reaction. I wonder what her new husband must have thought when he saw her trying to crawl away from the balcony.

I leave my surfboard in its designated area, away from the guests, then head to my private bathroom to take a quick shower and change into my work clothes. That was one of the first additions I made when I took over the Blue Coast Inn.

My hair is still wet when I emerge, but I’m dressed in my usual outfit—white polo shirt, tan khaki shorts. The same as all the other workers at the hotel. It’s casual, sure, but that’s the vibe here in Canyon Cove.

“Hey, Brittany,” I say, walking up to the front desk. “Thanks for taking over. I couldn’t resist those waves.”

“No worries, boss,” she replies, pushing her braids out of her face. “I don’t blame you.”

“Anything interesting happen while I was out?”

Her eyes gleam. If there’s one thing Brittany loves, it’s gossip. But I’ve trained her to maintain a professional appearance in front of the guests. “You’ll never believe what’s going on in the honeymoon suite.”

“Ew. I don’t want to know.”

“No! Gross. That’s not what I meant.” She leans toward me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “The bride came alone. She said there was a change of plans.”

My eyes widen at that news. “Brooke is here alone?” I ask.

Brittany leans back. “How do you know her name?”

“I, uh…” I clear my throat. “I looked at the guest list a few days ago.” Which is true. But at the time, it said that Landon and BrookeSmithsonwould be staying in the honeymoon suite. Of course I didn’t make the connection to Brooke Westfield.

MyBrooke.

Brittany narrows her eyes at me, then shakes her head. “Well, she’s here alone. And I’m dying to know what happened.”

So am I.

I spendthe next few hours managing things around the hotel, including calling the repairman to fix the pullout couch in room 208, but my mind isn’t here. It’s on Brooke. Every time I walk past her door, I wonder what has happened over the last five years.

Moments from the two summer weeks we spent togetherkeep flashing before my eyes. She was here on vacation with her parents, but since she was nineteen, she spent most of her time doing whatever she wanted—with me. Sharing ice cream sundaes on the pier. Sunset walks along the beach. Stolen kisses under the lifeguard stand.

And, of course, I can never forget the last time I saw her. When I begged her to stay here, to enroll at the Canyon Cove Art Institute and get an internship so we could stay together. And when she simply kissed me one more time, and said, “Thank you for the memories.”

Heart. Crushed.

I should’ve known better than to expect her to stay. It’s the stereotypical story of the summer fling between the rich girl on vacation and the poor surfer kid. It never ends well.

I never meant as much to her as she did to me.

But then again, if she didn’t care, why did she try to hide when she spotted me?

My mind is racing, and I’m not thinking clearly, which explains why I crash into our newest intern, Maverick, on my way out to the pool.

And knock all the clean, freshly folded towels he’s carrying out of his arms and onto the floor.

“Oh, Mr. Matthews!” he says, kneeling down to pick them all up. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” I say. I have a soft spot for interns. After all, that’s how I started out, too. I kneel and pick up the towels with him. “I was distracted.”

After we’ve collected all the towels, we both stand. “Let me take care of this,” I say. “I’ll take some new towels out to the pool. Why don’t you get some water bottles for room 206? They were asking for more.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Matthews,” he replies, flicking his hair out of his face. “Thanks so much.”

He rushes off to the kitchen, and I head to the laundryroom with these towels that now need to be rewashed. Thankfully, there’s a load of clean towels in the dryer, so I fold those and stack them up, then head out the back door to the pool.

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