Page 5 of Play For Me
When he’s finally out of sight, I breathe deeply for thefirst time since I saw him. I don’t know how I had the strength to fight what was clearly being offered to me on a platter, but I did. He’s a one-way ticket to heartbreak, and I don’t have any desire to go down that route again.
You can tell he’s not used to being turned down, and his whole demeanor screams fuckboy.
No, thank you.
I won’t be messed with again, and besides, I’ve already got the love of my life at home, and we don’t need anyone else. Speaking of home, I quickly dial Miss Beth’s number. I’m never late, so she has to be worried.
“Hi dear,” she says, answering on the second ring. “Is everything okay? I tried calling but got your voicemail.”
I smile at Miss Beth’s sweet voice. We moved in next door to her a month ago, and I fell in love right away with the small elderly lady who brought us an apple pie to welcome us to the neighborhood. I didn’t even know people still did that, and it warmed my heart to see.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I got a flat tire, but I’m on my way home now. Is everything okay at the house?”
“Everything is good here. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, then.”
We say our goodbyes, and I sigh against the headrest. I knew moving here would be harder without my family to help me, but I needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere I could breathe…somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
When my boss needed someone to run the Florida accounts, I immediately jumped on it. Both my parents tried to talk me out of it, but something told me this was the right move. It felt right. I needed to do this for myself—to prove I could do this on my own.
What started out as hosting wine tastings in venues aroundChicago has quickly escalated into rising to the top of sales for a leading wine distribution company. I love meeting the owners of establishments and helping them create their own wine lists that pair well with their food or reflect the atmosphere they want to create. My clients become like family to me, and I’m always striving to bring them the best I can for their business. I learned early on that I have a gift for walking into a place, whether it’s a restaurant or a bar, and knowing exactly what they need.
I enter the downtown area a few minutes later and turn right, leading to my little coastal neighborhood. As soon as I arrived in Blue Haven, I knew I had made the right decision. The neighbors have been so welcoming, and I’m enjoying getting to know the clients I’ll be working with.
I pull up to the cute yellow cottage I bought and can’t help but smile at the wooden white porch overflowing with flowers. I’ve spent the last month making this place a home. At twenty-six, it feels good to be out of an apartment and own something I can call mine. It needs a little work, but I plan on hiring out for what I can’t do myself.
The ocean air hits me as I step out of the jeep. One of my favorite things about the place is how close we are to the beach. I plan on getting a golf cart, which I learned is the way to get around in this neighborhood, but until then, it’s just a short walk to the water. It’s exactly what I envisioned a small coastal town to be like, and I already feel like I’m finally where I belong.
Walking up the wooden stairs, I use my key and step inside.
Natural wood floors flow throughout the open floor plan. The shiplap walls are white, and I instantly fell in love with their beachy vibe. They extend onto the high ceiling of the A-frame, with wooden beams as the perfect accent.
I smile when I see a dark head of hair flash by outside. Walking across the living room, I enter the kitchen andset my purse on the black granite island before opening the full-wall sliders and stepping outside into the screened-in pool area.
I spot Miss Beth sitting under the giant mossy oak tree on the outdoor swing. Bypassing the pool, I go out the side door and step onto the soft grass.
“Momma!” My whole world comes running over and jumps into my arms. I inhale the sweet scent of my baby girl as I bury my face in her soft, dark curls.
“How’s my little bee doing? I’m sorry I’m late. I got a flat tire and had to get it fixed before I could drive it home.”
“How did you fill it up? That’s an awful lot of air.” Her adorable face scrunches up in concentration, causing me to laugh. If it weren’t for her dark hair, she would be a spitting image of me as light hazel eyes study me. She has a dusting of cute freckles across her nose and dimples so deep on those cheeks that I told her she must have been kissed by the brightest angel up in heaven to receive those.
“Itwouldbe a lot of air,” I laugh. “This tire had a big hole, so I had to put a new one on it.”
“Lordy, child, how did you manage that?” I look at Miss Beth as she approaches us. Her grey hair is in a loose bun, and she’s wearing a t-shirt that saysI’m not old, I’m vintage. She reminds me of my grandma and gives me a little piece of family here.
At first, I was a little worried when she volunteered to watch Bee on days I had meetings. I wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep up with an active four-year-old, but she surprised me with how energetic she still is. They hit it off right away, and I love seeing the two of them together baking cookies or watching Miss Beth teach her about gardening.
“I had every intention of changing it myself, but someone stopped to help, so I let him mess with it.” I set down my daughter, and she runs over to the swing set to play. This backyardwas one of the reasons I had to have this house. Even with the pool, there is still plenty of space for a child to run around in. It’s a far cry from our tiny apartment in the city with no yard and everything I want my daughter to have growing up.
“Anyone I know?”
I doubt Miss Beth hangs around six-foot-three guys covered in tattoos and eyes that could melt the panties off of a nun and make them think twice about their vow to God to remain celibate.
“I didn’t get his name, but he changed it way faster than I could have.” No one needs to know that I was Googling how to even change a damn tire minutes before he showed up. I’m not one to sit back and ask for help, so the stubbornness in me to do it myself probably would have taken me hours compared to what he did in less than thirty minutes.
“I’m just glad you made it back home safely,” she smiles, and her wrinkles deepen from years of laughter lines that appear. The best kind of wrinkles, if you ask me. That’s probably why she’s still so active. Laughter is always the best medicine.
