Soaked (The Water's Edge #2) (22 page)

“You’re not gonna let Aubrey’s bullshit keep you from showing up, are you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I
had
considered bailing on the event. As much as I’d hoped to use the Sailing Regatta Gala as a chance to network my budding business, Paper Plane Photography, now I wasn’t so sure. Aubrey had made sure to spread the news of my videos among the island residents of my generation. I wasn’t sure how far her poison had reached though. An evening of people laughing at me, either behind my back or directly to my face, wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time.

Letting Aubrey win this round wasn’t really an option either, though. But beyond the concern for my own business, was how my actions might reflect upon both Grady and West—and hell, even Rue for that matter. Although, I had no doubt that Rue would be happy to stand by my side and give Aubrey a great big middle finger if she tried to pull any shit to my face.

“Actually,” Hailey hesitated, twisting her engagement ring on her on finger. Her fiancé was a U.S. Marine currently deployed overseas. “She’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

I tipped my head to the side, unsure where she was going with this little detour. “Oh?” I wiped any expression from my face, bracing myself for bad news.

“Look, I don’t like to gossip or get in the middle of other people’s relationships or whatever it is you’ve got going on with my brother,” she said in a rush, not quite meeting my eyes. I think she was watching my chin as she pushed the words from her mouth, like if she did it quick, like ripping off a bandage, maybe it wouldn’t suck so bad. “But I was working here last weekend, filling in for West when he took off like a bat out of hell to go to Tennessee, and Aubrey was here with her friends—you know, the hard plastic looking ones with perfect teeth? Anyways, they must’ve had too much grog, or not known I could hear them, or hell, maybe they just didn’t care, but Aubrey started talking about West.”

She paused again, and peeked up at me from under her lashes, her eyes big and pleading, like a puppy’s. “And you. She was bragging about how she’d finally sent you running and West was hers again. Something about . . . some pictures? At his place? Does that mean something to you? I wasn’t sure what that was about. But anyway, something about planting some pictures and you finding them at the perfect time. And then she was cackling about you appearing out of the blue at the marina when she sprained her ankle. That the timing couldn’t have been better.”

She took a deep breath and poured me a shot, top shelf, and slid it across the bar. I drank it down in one swallow, face blank, and then rolled the empty glass between my palms, absorbing her words. I stared at one of the pinned dollar bills over Hailey’s shoulder. The currency tacked behind the bar all had pick-up lines scrawled on them. I was fixated on one I hadn’t seen before.
Do you live on a chicken farm? You sure know how to raise a cock.

Hailey reached out, the woven nautical bracelets I knew she’d made herself sliding down her wrist, and gently took the glass from me, setting it in the bin with the other dirty ones; then she placed the knife I’d been using earlier behind the counter, out of reach. Taking precautions, I guess. “I don’t know if what she said makes any sense or not, but I don’t trust her, and if I’m going to possibly have one of you as my sister-in-law one day, I’d pick you a million times over her.”

Her words buzzed faintly in the background. I barely heard her. Instead, I was back at the beach house West and Wyatt shared, the day I realized I’d fallen in love with West. The day I pictured a future with him.

With us.

And then
she’d
been there, wearing only one of West’s shirts, looking all rumpled. And West had sworn she’d just been drunk and sleeping it off on the couch, and I’d wanted to believe him, but then I saw the pictures in his nightstand. The boudoir pics I’d taken of her. Glossy image after glossy image of her more naked than clothed, tucked right next to his bed.

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, right? So I’d rushed out, not looking back.

My dreams crushed.

And he hadn’t chased me.

But since then he’d told me he loved me, and sent me love notes, and driven twelve hours to save me from Asshole, and given me space.

And he’d fucking painted the bathroom.

I swayed on the seat, eyes unfocused, pulse tripping as it tried to keep pace with my whirling mind. I loved him. I did. But at the same time, he scared me.

I didn’t want to be hurt again. Could you love without risk? I didn’t think so.

The room blurred around the edges, and I exhaled the breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding.

And I realized.

He made me want to believe in the magic of paper airplanes.

MY NAME. SOMEONE
was saying my name.

“Sadie? You okay?” Hailey waved her hand in front of my face. Her brows dipped in worry and she pushed another glass across the bar to me. Water this time.

I snatched up the glass too fast, splashing some over the rim as I took a long swallow. Drops splattered across the front of my cotton shirt, but I ignored them.

“He’ll be back in two days?”

She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You’re gonna talk to him, aren’t you?”

I lifted a brow. “If things go right, I’ll do more than just talk to him.”

“Ew.” She threw a towel at me. “You realize he’s my brother, right? I don’t want to think about his . . . extracurricular activities.”

I mopped up the mess I’d made on the worn, wooden bar top and dabbed at my shirt, sopping up the worst of it.

“So he gets back the same day as the gala? Dammit, I’m gonna have to try to corner him beforehand. Or on the way there. Or something.” I was thinking out loud, forming my plan.

“Oh.” Her voice trailed off and Hailey spun around, busying herself with the fruit in the cooler. She dumped in the rest we’d cut up and poured a whole bottle of Everclear over the top.

“Hailey?”

“Mmm?”

“Why won’t you look at me all the sudden?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just something I overheard at the house the other night, during one of the planning meetings Aubrey came over for.”

I rolled my eyes. Could she drag this out any longer?

“ . . . and?”

She stirred the fruit with a wooden spoon, studiously avoiding my gaze.

“What’d you hear?”

Reluctance and apology colored her voice. “Aubrey was whining about how hard it is to drive in heels and Grandma sorta kinda volunteered West to go pick her up.” She mumbled the last part, and it took me a second to process what she said.

I pursed my lips and my knee started bouncing in irritation. “So your brother is taking Aubrey to the gala.” It wasn’t a question. It was me acknowledging Aubrey worming her way between me and West. Again.

“I mean, I don’t think they’re going together like, a date or anything. I think he’s just . . . picking her up,” she finished, looking at me helplessly. “Honestly, she set the whole thing up. Grandma fell for it, and West was stuck looking like a jerk if he refused. It’s only a mile away.”

“And Aubrey is incapable of driving in heels? When I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in flats.” My sarcasm wasn’t lost on Hailey.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sure you’re the one he hoped to take as his date.”

I drummed my fingers to the same rhythm I was bouncing my knee. “Yeah? I don’t know.”

“I’m sure he just—”

“You know what? I’ll see him there. I’ll drive myself. In heels, no less.”

T
HE NEXT DAY,
I stood outside of Grady’s penthouse office at the Water’s Edge resort, fighting the nerves that had my stomach rolling. I’d requested the meeting, hoping to apologize and find out where I stood with the company. If I still had any employment at all—as a photographer or a lifeguard.

My expectations weren’t very high on either count.

I picked a piece of lint off the pale pink shell I’d paired with slim black pants and pointy-toed flats. I’d pinned my hair back off my face too, trying to exude a professionalism I certainly didn’t feel as I waited for Grady to answer my knock.

A minute passed. Shit. Maybe he didn’t hear me? I’d knocked more timidly than I meant to, my anxiety showing through the too-soft action.

Or . . . maybe that was his response? Maybe not answering the door was the message he was sending me. That I wasn’t welcome here any longer.

But, no. The Grady I’d come to know, the one who’d taken salsa lessons with me on the island and surfed with abandon, he would never be so rude. He’d at least hear me out before he sent me packing.

I raised my hand again, and squared my shoulders. My knuckles had almost met the dark, solid-wood door when it whooshed open. My hand continued its arc, not meeting the expected resistance, and rapped Grady’s shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back.

“Oh, God!” I cried, taking a step forward, my hand reaching out to him.

He retreated hastily. “Woah, there, killer. I was coming, no need to attack.” He rubbed the spot where I’d thwacked him, rotating his arm at the shoulder.

“Grady, I’m so sorry, I was just trying to kno—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted. “Trust me, I’ve survived worse.” His face clouded momentarily and his eyes went a bit hazy as he massaged the spot one last time. “Much worse.” Shaking his head, he moved around behind the mammoth desk that dominated the room. The wall behind him was floor-to-ceiling glass, much like the main room at his beachfront mansion. From here, he had a bird’s eye view of most of the resort, like a king surveying his kingdom.

He lowered himself into the plush leather office chair and pointed at the two upholstered armchairs arranged in front of the desk. “Why don’t you have a seat and catch me up with your progress?”

“My progress?” I sat on the very edge of the seat, legs pressed together. “You mean . . . with the . . .” I trailed off. Was he asking about the emergency I’d told him I had to rush off and handle?

“Not that.” He shook his head. “It seems to me that you got that nightmare in Tennessee handled just fine.”

My face burned. “You know.”

He swiveled in his chair, and gazed out the window for a minute, his hand coming up to rub across his mouth. His face appeared more drawn than I remembered, even though he looked as impeccable as ever in his charcoal gray suit with a pale silver shirt beneath. His eyes seemed more tired, heavier somehow, than they had in Grand Cayman. Working his jaw back and forth, he turned back to face me, his eyes both sincere and formidable. “What I saw was a beautiful young lady, who has nothing to apologize for, and a smug fool who, frankly, could stand to learn a few new moves, let alone some better personal grooming habits. I also noticed that said video has disappeared from the internet, and that the Nashville police blotter showed the arrest of one Asher Snowden. Well played, Miss Mullins.” He dipped his head in my direction, a pleased smirk playing around the edge of his mouth.

I collapsed back in the chair, relief and shock making me forget my posture all together. “Am I . . .” I tried to swallow past the dryness of my mouth.

“Fired? Is that what you came here to ask me?”

I nodded, mutely. Miserably.

“Why would I fire you? Your work has been more than satisfactory and your coworkers sing your praises, in your roles both at the pool and behind the camera. That said, I do expect an update on the family-centered campaign for the new resort.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Numb with relief and gratitude, I was speechless as I searched through my purse, before emerging triumphantly with a thumb drive. I leaned across his wide desk to hand it over. “Right here. Finished, edited, and ready to go.”

He opened the sleek laptop and front of him and started to insert the small device when he paused. “You sure these are the right images?”

I flushed and looked away, nodding.

“Too soon?” He winced at my reaction.

I bit my lip. “Just a bit.” His joke helped though, awkward as it was. Some of the stiffness left my shoulders, and I scooted back to sit properly in the chair, instead of perching on the edge, ready to flee. No, now my nerves centered on what he thought about my work. My first big commercial campaign.