Page 11 of Beach Bum Billion-Heiress
A small smile that should have been adorable, filled my stomach with dread instead. That smile looked like the smile a shark gave you right before he took a bite out of your leg and left you for dead.
"Just a few citizens and surfers, huh?"
"Yep." I let the 'p' pop as it left my mouth, loving how that smile turned into an angry frown. I'd better be careful. Pissing her off was starting to be way too much fun.
She threw her hands out, exasperated with me, clearly. "That's a picture of your father with President Ford! And a picture with Kelly Slater! Even I know who he is."
I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd had around her. I loved looking at those photos of what my dad built here. "That's right," I drawled, guessing correctly that my blasé attitude would rile her up even more.
Those hands started flailing higher in the air, encompassing the entirety of the store. "So, like, what is this place? Some sort of surfing legend, small town landmark?"
"I guess you could say that." I nodded. "What's the tattoo on your hip?" I pointed to her right hip, where just the top edge of a tattoo peeked out from the top band of her swimsuit bottoms.
"What?" Her arms dropped and she looked down at her own hip, like she couldn't remember what was there. Her brain caught up to my line of questioning and she snapped her head back up, skewering me with those eyes. They were a unique kind of brown, almost gold when she was fired up, like right now. "None of your business!"
I pounded the countertop and doubled over laughing. She was too much. One minute she's in a business suit with a stick up her ass, the next she's mooning me and trying to drag a huge surfboard onto her vintage VW, and then she flips the switch into prim and proper mode like a pearl clutching charity committee member.
I couldn't keep up and I found the constant metamorphosis fascinating. Maybe I should be a little more worried that she was nearing a mental breakdown, but she seemed relatively harmless. Or maybe I was just blinded by those perky breasts.
"Are we done here?" Her loud voice broke into my laughter. I swallowed it back, but couldn't stop the smile that split my face. Her hands were on her hips and she looked defeated, not pissed off, like I'd hoped.
Pissed off, I liked. Defeated, not so much. Getting the sense that I'd somehow left her licking her wounds after our verbal sparring wiped the smile off my face and had me stepping around the counter. As much as she pissed me off, I wasn't a dick to any girl. Just wasn't in me.
My hand was on her arm, smoothing up and down before I knew what I was doing. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you. I'm just confused as to who you are and what you want from me." I was only inches from her, wanting to see that spark in her eyes again, knowing I'd brought it back.
Instead, she closed those eyes, leaving me suspended in time, hoping she'd forgive me for pushing too far, but also hoping she'd leave and let me get back to my boring life. A shiver ran down the length of her body so it was only natural that I pulled her into my arms and gave her a hug. She was still standing there in a cold, wet bikini because I was busy tormenting her instead of letting her get on her way. The least I could do was lend a helping hand and keep her warm while we argued. Right?
She gasped when I pulled her in, that puff of warm hair hitting my skin we were so close, but she let me hold her, her arms finally coming up around my waist. I felt her nipples digging into my chest and I willed my body not to react. Her head fit perfectly under my chin, the various points of our body aligning like we were meant to be together, two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.
"Hey Jax, just pulled in-- oh, sorry!" Jonny's voice came from the back door, where he'd entered the shop from the back dock.
Sage and I jumped apart the second we heard we weren't alone anymore. My clean shirt was damp against my skin having absorbed the water from her bikini top. Her boobs left an imprint on my shirt. And my brain.
"No problem, Jonny. This is-- my friend, Sage Vanderman. Sage, this is Jonny. I believe you met this morning."
Sage waved at Jonny, flashing him a smile.
"How'd the board work out for ya?" Jonny asked Sage.
"Oh, you know, got tossed around a bit, and lost my shorts getting on that beast, but it was fun. I'll be trying that again soon, mark my words."
I interject in their conversation, wanting to get her to smile at me like that. Plus, I don't want Jonny to start envisioning her without her bikini bottoms. "How about we go together and I'll show you the basics?"
And there it was. That smile that lit up her whole face. "Okay, you're on."
"Okay, well, I'll go find something to do out back. Nice seeing ya, Sage!" Jonny backed out the door and I thought of ways to pay the guy more, in thanks for his quick read of the situation and his speedy exit.
Sage didn't even acknowledge his retreat, her gaze focused entirely on me. "I wasn't finished." She got that calculating look I was becoming familiar with. "I was going to say...on one condition."
"And what condition is that?" I was pretty sure she was flirting with me. This was flirting, right?
"You tell me exactly why you don't want to sell this place." She looked around the room, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "It's not like this place is making a lot of money. I bet you're not even in the black."
I shook my head at her slowly. Right back to annoying! "Like a dog with a bone," I mutter. My unruly hair was all over the place as I ran a hand through it, then grabbed the back of my neck, knowing all too well what my answer would be. "Fine, let's get it all out there so you understand where I'm coming from."
Sage got a huge, satisfied grin on her face and my heart stuttered in my chest. I was instantly addicted, like a high schooler's first hit of a Juul. I wanted to make her smile like that again and again. I rolled my eyes, irritated with myself, wondering what the hell was happening to me.
"Here, let's get a shirt on you first." I tossed one of the clean shirts from behind the counter at her. If I had any chance of defending my reasons for not selling, she had to cover up.
