Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Emma

I whistled for the third time, my brows furrowed in concern. Where did that impossible dog run off to now? With a sigh of exasperation, I continued along the high, ivy-draped stone wall that separated my humble abode from the luxurious estate next door.

Eventually, I reached the gate leading to what was arguably the greenest, most exquisite garden in the whole of Seashell Cove. It was currently bathed in moonlight, but if anything, the soft glow only enhanced how beautiful it was.

And there, amidst the vibrant blooms and neat hedgerows, was my target.

My naughty Goldendoodle, Porky.

The rascal was cheerfully gnawing on a flower that radiated an exotic, heady fragrance while plonked smack in the middle of the pristinely manicured lawn. A lawn belonging to none other than billionaire bachelor Wade James.

I hadn’t met him, he was rarely in town, but I’d heard stories aplenty. He was Seashell Cove’s most talked about recluse. I squeezed through the wrought-iron gate, grumbling a litany of threats and promises of a stern talking-to in Porky’s future under my breath.

Stomping toward the scamp in question, I continued my whispered diatribe and directed it at the dog, “You rotten fur ball, if you’ve munched through some rare blossom worth the price of my cottage, I’m gonna wring your hairy neck. We’ll both be living in the doghouse.”

Porky just stared at me, his hind end propped in the air and his feet dug into the grass in the age-old position of a canine about to bolt whilst taking great glee in making his bumbling human give chase. The mangled flower dangled from his mouth, broadcasting his crime to the world.

“Oh, no you don’t, mister!” I hissed. Porky made his move and I stepped in front of him and raised my hand in a stop position, showing him I meant business. I followed it up with a strong, “NO!” Porky reluctantly dropped his butt back to the ground and put his head down to the grass, giving me sappy doodle eyes.

I released a tiny sigh of relief.

“An interesting hour to be trespassing, wouldn’t you agree?” A voice, smooth as silk but laced with sarcasm, drifted from behind me.

I yelped, spinning around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. My heart hammered against my ribcage, threatening to break free. Standing there, bathed in the warm, amber glow of terrace lights, was my elusive neighbor.

The backlighting cast his face into shadow, but the aura of annoyance was unmistakable. And here I was, clad in nothing but a threadbare nightshirt and boy shorts, caught like a deer in headlights. Not exactly my finest moment.

“Oh! Hi! I’m so sorry—I live next door, in the cottage, and I was just?—“

“Foraging for a midnight snack in my garden?” he cut me off, descending the steps with a scowl that could freeze fire. Up close, his features sharpened into focus—a strong jaw, lips set in a thin line, eyes that glinted with irritation. “Or maybe you’re after my wallet, and the dog is merely a prop to get my attention.” His gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks burn. “Well, consider me attentive.”

I blinked, his accusation hanging in the air like a noxious cloud. Taken aback, I stiffened and wrapped one arm around my torso. Using my other hand, I gave the hem of my shorts a surreptitious tug. “I beg your pardon?”

He did a quick, pointed skim of my scanty attire. “That’s why you’re on my property at this hour, right? To proposition me? Granted, most gold diggers try a bit harder to appear inconspicuous, but kudos for being ballsy, I suppose.”

It took a beat for his words and meaning to register. When it did, it stung. My jaw dropped and I spluttered, “Oh my––how dare you! For your information, I only came to retrieve my dog, not—not some billionaire playboy with more money than manners!”

An amused glint appeared in the man’s eyes. “Billionaire playboy, huh? So you’ve done your research. Should I be flattered?”

Wade’s assumptions about me being a gold-digger looking to seduce him left me seeing red. How dare this arrogant ass presume to know anything about me or my motivations?

The arrogant ass in question tilted his lips in a sardonic half-smile and an irrational surge of fury rose in me. Mostly because he was so stupidly attractive and it was clear he was insulting me. Why couldn’t the man disrespecting me and accusing me of being a gold digger look like a troll or something? Or at least a gnome? We were standing in a garden, after all.

Seemed fair to me.

Straightening, I squared my shoulders and crossed my arms. Shooting him a scathing look, the bite in my tone was unmistakable.

“Mister, the only thing preceding you is your ego. I’m not interested in you, your money, or anything else your narcissistic butt’s got to offer. And for the record, you can keep your unsolicited assumptions to yourself. While you’re at it, keep your ridiculous ‘botanicals’ away from my dog!”

I glanced over at Porky, his ears twitching as he watched us both. He still had dirt sprinkled all over his snout and I could only hope whatever he ate a few moments ago wasn’t poisonous.

Wade blinked, mouth twitching. I could tell he wasn’t used to women brushing off his crass advances so forcefully.

Good. Your ego could use some deflating, buddy.

“My apologies for the presumptuous remarks,” Wade said slowly. “You’re right, it seems you’re a woman of more discerning tastes than I first realized.”

I scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because I’m still waiting for you to say something that doesn’t make you sound like an arrogant jerkwad.”

This time, definite amusement flashed in his eyes. “Duly noted. I meant no disrespect, despite evidence to the contrary. Maybe we could start over?” He extended his hand. “Wade James. And you are...?”

I eyed his hand. He seemed sincere enough, but I wasn’t ready to let down my guard just yet. First impressions mattered, and frankly, his sucked. I could still feel my blood boiling over his lewd insinuations.

Like I had interest in any man’s money.

I grudgingly bit out, “I’m Emma,” and ignored his outstretched hand. I knew it was rude, but I didn’t care.

Lunging forward, I grabbed Porky by his collar before he could dart off again, dragging him behind me as I stormed back in the direction of my cottage with a huff, fuming and fighting the blush I could feel suffusing every cell of my body. Porky of course, maddening floof that he was, dug his feet in every five steps, making the job of getting him home a million times harder than necessary.

“Porky!” I jerked his collar again and gave him my sternest Batman voice. It seemed to do the trick because he stopped fighting me and trailed behind me obediently, his ears drooping. I could still feel my neighbor’s gaze resting on us, burning a hole in my backside.

I only hoped my butt cheeks weren’t showing.

How infuriating, I fumed.

I jerked Porky along, engaging in a mental rant as we walked.

Assuming I’m some gold digger just because I wandered onto his property.

But there was something else, too—something in the way he looked at me that made my pulse race and my skin tingle. I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me liked that attention. Which only served to make me even more irate.

What the hell is wrong with you, Emma? You’re not some swooning damsel, and you definitely aren’t interested in some arrogant billionaire.

Right?

* * *

Wade

I watched her go, a reluctant grin curving my lips. There was fire and spirit to match her quick wit. And in that retort about my ego... a not so subtle hint she found me far less than charming.

Unexpected. And wholly intriguing.

She was different.

Not at all what I expected when I first saw her storming through my garden in those ridiculous slippers. Most women I encountered in my world were predictable, easily charmed or intimidated by my status.

But not her. She didn’t give a damn about my money, and that was... refreshing.

Maddening, but refreshing.

I should have been annoyed—hell, I was annoyed—but beneath that irritation was a spark of something else, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Was it possible I wanted to see her again?

The woman––Emma––half-jogged, half-stomped away, struggling to persuade her demented fur ball to leave my tasty garden behind. I admired her ass peeking out from beneath her shorts for a few minutes before my gaze fell on something odd and fuzzy sticking up in the sandy grass pathway a few feet from me.

A slipper.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

A dog-shaped one, no less.

I wonder how long it’ll take Cinderella in boy shorts to realize she’s left it behind.

The thought barely crossed my mind before I watched her throw up her hands in aggravation. That monstrous beast she calls a dog turned tail and bounded back toward my flower garden, its tongue flapping and teeth flashing white in the moonlight, nothing else showing but the whites of its eyes. The effect was an expression on its face that looked almost… gleeful.

I swallowed back my laughter as the woman tromped after the animal, her arms crossed in an unsuccessful attempt to achieve some modesty. One foot flashed in the moonlight, bare, the other obviously warmly snugged up in her doggie slipper. She let out a yelp when her naked foot landed on a rock, and from that point on limp-tromped.

I picked up her missing slipper and dangled it out from my finger helpfully as I waited for her to get closer. This night was turning out to be more entertaining than I bargained for. I’d only ventured outdoors for a bit of fresh air before hitting the sack. Bourbon always gave me a pleasant, relaxed buzz and I wanted to enjoy the sea breeze a bit before I called it quits for the evening.

I had no idea what I was in for.

The fiery little redhead drew closer and lifted one arm awkwardly to snatch the fuzzy slipper from my fingers.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

Dropping it to the ground, she brushed her foot against her leg to remove the sand, then slid her toes into it and glared daggers at her dog, three feet away and munching happily on the previously abandoned flower.

Shooting me an equally evil glower, she brushed by me to grab the animal by the collar a second time, muttering words under her breath I couldn’t quite make out.

Some of them were clearer than others. “Rude…kill…Porky…arrogant…mortifying,” drifted on the sea breeze, but none of them were connected enough to make much sense.

My shoulders shook with silent laughter as I watched her bumble her way back down the beach path in the direction of her bungalow, the hairy canine trotting behind her and giving a good yank every once in a while, jerking her arm behind her.

I heard a few more choice words float back on the breeze, and my shoulders shook harder. The woman’s trim, long legs flashed under her shorty shorts, and my gaze lingered with appreciation on her pert bottom again as she finally turned down the sandy path and out of sight.

My laughter faded and I stood staring up at the sky for some time, a bemused look on my face. There was something about that woman that niggled at my memory.

Something almost… familiar.

* * *

Emma

As soon as I entered my cottage, I collapsed on the couch with a groan, burying my face in the cushions. Porky jumped up beside me, giving me a questioning look before settling down with a huff. “What a night,” I mumbled into the fabric.

Who did that guy think he was, anyway? Just because he was some hotshot billionaire, didn’t mean he could just assume the worst about me because I wasn’t dressed to impress.

And damn it, why couldn’t I stop thinking about him in the first place? I shivered, recalling his deep, slightly raspy voice and those knowing eyes.

I didn’t want to care what he thought, but there was something about him that got under my skin. Worse, I honestly couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

Ugh, get a grip, Emma. Time for bed.

After locking everything back up, I finally crawled between the covers, a jaw-cracking yawn almost taking me out. Porky had already made himself at home on my pillow, the twerp.

Shooting him a baleful glare, I muttered, “My current level of stress tonight is all your fault, dood. If I don’t get any sleep, you’re not getting breakfast tomorrow.”

Porky’s ears flickered, his doodle expression dripping disdain at my empty threat. He knew I could never withhold food and starve him.

Twerp. Full stop.

* * *

Sunlight peeked through the swaying palm trees native to Seashell Cove as I strolled down a path littered with rocks and crushed shells. Porky pranced along next to me and I grazed the top of his head with my fingers. He glanced up, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail wagging with abandon.

I smiled.

Despite his midnight shenanigans, all was forgiven by the time we woke up. Porky always lifted my spirits, no matter what kind of mood I was in. He was only two years old, but I honestly couldn’t remember life without him.

We left the beach path behind and hit the boardwalk, walking past shops just beginning to open for the day. Weathered signs wobbled and creaked in the sea breeze.

We still had another hour before we opened Beachy Keen Reads. I breathed in the tangy air, soaking in the peaceful sound of crashing waves and the rustle of wind through the leaves of palm trees.

In the distance, Wade James’s sprawling beachfront estate caught my eye, its white stone facade glinting under the sun. It was definitely more grand than my own modest bungalow next door. Rumors about the wealthy bachelor living there were rampant, but until last night, I’d never even caught a glimpse of him.

Seemed at least one of the rumors was true. The man was hot with a capital H.

I frowned.

Arrogant as all get out, but hot.

Or maybe it’s the arrogance you find hot, Emma girl, Grammy’s opinionated voice whispered through my mind.

I grinned.

You might be right, Grammy. You know I’m a sucker for confidence.

We used to have so many conversations about the men in my life. I missed her dearly but I was thankful she left me with so many memories. They helped keep her close. Though if people knew I talked to her in my head, they’d probably think I was certifiable.

I reached the door to the bookshop and drew out my keys. Unlocking the doors, I went through my morning routine, getting everything ready for the day. Silvy wouldn’t be in until later, so I had the place to myself for awhile. I put coffee on to brew in the tiny kitchen near the office, cued up my favorite playlist to play through the loudspeakers, and set about unpacking and sorting another box of new books that came in last week.

I tottered on a step stool, arranging paperbacks on their bookshelves when the bell above the door jangled. I glanced over my shoulder with my practiced customer smile, only to falter at the sight of the hot with a capital H neighbor from last night strolling in.

His gaze swept over the cozy bookstore, a frown marring his features. Seemed frowning and scowling was his default. Eyes finally settling on me, Wade strode in my direction, his gaze roving over my figure––fully clothed this time––in a way that said he was still imagining me half-naked. The idea of him picturing me any way at all made my lower belly clench.

Wade stopped in front of my step stool. He was so tall it only put me at eye level for him. Perfectly positioned for my gaze to get hung up on his mouth. I dragged it away before he realized I was staring.

“I owe you an apology for my behavior last night.” His blunt admission caught me off guard and I blinked.

“Oh.”

His lips twitched, his gaze bright as he studied my face.

“My mother raised me better than that. I was in a mood, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way and I apologize.”

I stepped down off the stool, facing him, except now I had to look up. “Well––thank you. I appreciate you coming here to tell me that.”

He inclined his head, a wry smile twisting his firm lips. “Could we try again? I’m Wade James.” He didn’t stick out his hand this time. Good thing, because mine were suddenly clammy.

“Emma. Michaels,” I added as I studied him, surprised at his abrupt change in demeanor.

We stood there awkwardly for several seconds. Finally, I relented. “Would you like some coffee, Mr. James? It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way just to apologize.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Coffee would be spectacular, Ms. Michaels.”

I disappeared to prepare two cups of coffee and brought them out on a tray with creamer, sugar, and some leftover pumpkin bread Silvy kept in the fridge. As we settled into the cozy chairs in my favorite reading nook, a strained silence filled the space between us.

His eyes lingered on the bookshelves. “So this is your life—curating books in a small beach town.” His tone held a hint of cynicism.

I bristled at the implication. “What’s wrong with that? I enjoy my work and the peace of Seashell Cove. Not all of us want to live a life of luxury and excess.”

“Touché.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “My apologies. Again. I didn’t mean to offend you––”

“Again,” I finished for him. “And I didn’t mean to get defensive. I guess it’s my turn to ask if we can start over, huh?” I offered.

A smile tugged at his lips as he raised his mug. “To new beginnings.”

As we chatted over coffee, I found myself observing him from beneath the cover of my lashes, stealing glances whenever I could. Yeesh, the man was like a Greek god, he was so pretty and sculpted. But there was something about him… something that felt vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why. My brain churned, trying to force the connection hovering at the edges of my awareness.

“So,” he began, his voice interrupting my thoughts, “tell me more about this... chili cook-off you mentioned.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest in such a kitschy, small town event. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he replied with a grin. “The rules, the competition, the stakes... I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

I chuckled, despite myself. “Reputation? As a chili connoisseur?”

“Among other things,” he offered, a small smirk crossing his features. “But yes, my chili is legendary in certain circles. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the locals.”

“Well, Mr. James,” I said, leaning back in my chair and adopting a mock-serious tone, “the Seashell Cove Chili Cook-Off is a cutthroat affair. Only the best of the best dare to compete. We have grandmothers with secret family recipes, seasoned grill masters, and even a few aspiring chefs who think they have what it takes to win the coveted Golden Ladle.”

“The Golden Ladle?” Wade repeated, his eyes twinkling. “Sounds ominous.”

“It is,” I confirmed with a dramatic nod. “The winner not only receives bragging rights for the entire year but also the responsibility of upholding the culinary honor of Seashell Cove.”

“A heavy burden indeed,” Wade said, his lips twitching into a smile. “I suppose I’ll have to bring my A-game, then.”

“You’d better,” I retorted, a playful challenge in my voice. “The competition is fierce.”

Once all the awkwardness passed, we bantered back and forth with surprising ease, chatting about the chili cook-off and other local quirks. Wade finished his coffee, standing up to stretch. His gaze lingered on mine a beat longer than necessary.

“Well, Ms. Michaels. I should let you get back to your books. But I look forward to seeing you at the cook-off. May the best chili win.”

“May the best chili win,” I echoed, my heart skipping a beat as he winked and headed towards the door.

Playboy, indeed. I wonder how many women fall at his feet to earn one of those.

Watching him leave, a mix of emotions swirled within me. The chili cook-off was just a few days away, and I couldn’t deny I was suddenly looking forward to seeing the Greek god again.

Despite our rocky start last night, the man who showed up today was actually kind of likable.

I really wasn’t sure how I felt about that.