Page 1 of Resting Beach Face
PROLOGUE
Cash
I slurpedmy spicy mango margarita—because I was manly enough to enjoy a good drink, regardless of its frilly packaging—and tried to focus on the pretty tourist beside me at the bar. Blond curls spilled down her shoulders, practically more coverage than her low-cut tank top provided. Her hazel eyes drank me in, gaze slipping up and down my body in a not-so-subtle invitation to get naked with her.
Tequila and bad decisions were flowing at The Drunken Worm. It was nearing midnight and the Tex-Mex restaurant had shifted from family fun to rowdy pickup spot. Laughter rang out loud and brash, drawing my attention to a table full of women in bikini tops and wraparound skirts, all sipping from fishbowl-sized margaritas large enough to drown a small child.
Amy—or Annie?—tugged my arm to regain my attention. “Hey, did you hear me?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you wanted to get out of here?”
She dangled an old-fashioned brass key emblazoned with a treehouse between us.
The logo of the Treehouse B&B.
Declan’s place.
My mouth went dry at the sight of it. I shouldn’t be excited to go there, right? Declan wouldn’t be pleased to see me again. Two nights ago I’d hooked up with a guest named Raul, and things had gotten a little loud.
Declan had knocked on the door and told us to keep it down.
His forehead creased with a frown, but that meant nothing. Declan was always frowning. It seemed to be his natural expression. But that night, his eyes also narrowed, and he pinned me with a glare that told me he was pissed.
I was seriously messed up for liking a man’s irritation so much, but damn, it’d been hot.
And if I couldn’t have his interest, at least I could get under his skin.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you say? Shall we go have some fun?”
Fun? Was that what this was? I’d done it so many times I’d numbed myself to any spark of excitement. Hooking up with tourists was no longer about fun for me. It was about escape.
Escape from my house.
From my asshole dad.
From thinking at all.
I licked my dry lips, thinking about how Declan might react tonight. It didn’t really matter, though. He’d notice me.
I wasn’t sure why that was so important, only that it was.
“Okay, let’s go.”
We were a few blocks from the B&B—and I knew a shortcut across the park that saved us from passing by the old defunct resort or RV retreat.
Amy giggled nervously as she followed me between trees. “I hope you know where you’re going.”
“Like the back of my hand. I’m a local, remember?”
She grasped my arm, pressing in close, and I fought the urge to pull away. If I didn’t want to sleep outside or go crawling to one of my friends and admit to just how bad things had gotten at home, then I needed to see this through.
Amy was a pretty enough woman. There was no reason to not do this.
Still, my stomach tied itself in knots. It was getting more difficult to slip from one bed to the next. Especially when none of them were the bed I really wanted.
The B&B loomed up in the darkness as we stepped from the trees. It was a two-story house with one wing hovering above ground—supported by a large oak tree that grew up through the center of it and exited the roof.
