CHAPTER FIVE Chad

I'd received the code numbers for the garage doors and the front door of the house from Mr. Hicks. We spoke for a few brief minutes about him driving down in three days and what he wanted me to do in preparation. He informed me that a woman from an interior design firm named Marla would be putting his house together for him before I went over to prep for his arrival.

I walked over from my house and noticed the For Sale sign that faced the beach was being removed from the sand. In all the years I'd either walked by or surfed in front of the Talbot house, I'd never spent much time noticing it, but now I was astonished at how beautiful it was.

Most of the homes along the beach were the typical cedar shingle siding ones you'd see on shorelines along the East Coast. This one was no different. The cedar was normally bleached out to a distressed gray color with the window shutters and doors outlined in bright-white paint.

Mr. Hicks' home was smaller than my folks' place. His was a two-story bungalow with a small deck coming out of what I assumed was the second-floor master bedroom. A large deck wrapped around the main floor had brightly colored Adirondack chairs scattered about, with large wooden tables and potted palms displayed in the corners of the deck. It was cozy and beachy. A typically tasteful, monied person's beach house.

The man removing the sign was surprised to me see coming up the path.

"This is private property," he said.

He was in a suit and appeared miserable in the heat. He was an attractive man. My type, actually. I liked professional men a decade or so older than me. I found their experience and manner very alluring. However, this person seemed uptight and suspicious of a beach-bum looking surfer dude walking toward the multi-million dollar home behind him.

"I'm aware of that," I politely replied. "I'm Chad, the new owner's hired caretaker."

He didn't appear to believe me as he went through his texts, but after confirming that he was expecting a caretaker named Chad, he relaxed his demeanor.

"Marla, Mr. Hicks' designer, just left and a car hauler is dropping off three vehicles in the driveway," he updated. "But I imagine you know that already."

"Two BMWs and one Benz, correct?" I asked. "Black, Gray, and a bright red one, I believe."

"I guess you are the caretaker," he said. I grinned and stepped past him. "You look quite young," he added as I walked past.

After his remark, I stopped and turned around. "I get that a lot," I said, looking down at my board shorts and naked upper body. "I guess I don't exactly dress for the job," I joked.

"Have you met Mr. Hicks?" he asked, moving his eyes over my body.

"Not yet," I replied. "But I'm looking forward to it later today."

"He's a formal man," he advised, not hiding his disdain for my lack of clothes. However, he kept his eyes locked on my skin a bit too long for a person trying to act all uppity with me. I had the feeling he liked what he saw.

"Sounds great," I said. "Then Mr. Hicks will fit in fine with the new house. Nice talking with you, and have an awesome day, my friend."

He looked at me like I'd insulted him, but that wasn't my thing. I didn't have time for pettiness and being rude. I truly wanted him to have an awesome day. "Later," I added, turning and making my way up the path.

The three cars sat in the driveway and their keys had been slipped through the mail slot in the front door, so I grabbed them and set about washing the cars before garaging them. I figured Mr. Hicks would appreciate having his fleet shining and ready to drive when he arrived at his new home.

I was almost finished washing the third car, headphones in my ear, when my eyes caught a vehicle in my peripheral vision parking near the garage about fifty yards away. I removed my ear pods and waited to see who it was. The white SUV had dark tinted windows, so I couldn't make out the driver or passengers. Maybe this was Mr. Hicks and family.

I grabbed a towel and wiped the perspiration from my chest and brow. I really hoped this wasn't Mr. Hicks because I looked awful. Board shorts barely hanging on my hips, my long blond hair shaggy and disheveled, and sweating from washing three vehicles in the hot sun. I imagined I made quite an impression on whoever was still inside the SUV. They remained inside the vehicle for what seemed like forever. I nervously stood there, feeling self-conscious, and waited.

Finally, the door opened. My breath hitched, and I immediately felt underdressed and unprepared for what now stood in the driveway. He was tall. At least a couple of inches over six feet. Black hair, styled to perfection, cut above his ears and combed back from his face. His face was square-jawed with a cleft in his chin and a five-o'clock shadow was at about three-fifteen.

He was dressed impeccably. I recognized money when I saw it. My father dressed like this man, looked like this man. I'd seen this look many times, and I liked it. A tight black T-shirt hid an obviously sculpted chest. Large biceps were indecently trying to break out of the short-sleeved cotton tee. A trim waist divided the upper body from the manly lower half. He wore tight-fitting golf shorts in a complementing dark gray color. Muscular and tan legs supported the entire heavenly project. I'd only once seen a man this gorgeous. That man was my friend Perry Jackson.

However, I knew the moment I laid eyes on Perry back then that he wasn't meant for me. I just couldn't say the same thing about this man. I wasn't ready for love, couldn't think of love, and didn't need to start anything resembling love, but this specimen of masculinity would test my strength of giving myself more time to heal. He was really something. Thank God he was probably married. I couldn't imagine what the wife looked like as I waited for the rest of the family to pile out of the expensive family-sized SUV.

"Chad, I assume?" a deep and rich voice pondered. He sounded like he looked. Manly.

"Yes, sir. Are you Mr. Hicks?" I asked, stepping toward the SUV, anticipating meeting others. I stepped by him, acutely aware I looked far too casual for a first meeting with the boss, and tried to open a back door, but it was locked. Then the rear hatch popped open after he pressed a button on his keys. I hurried to the open hatch to retrieve the luggage, looking inside for the other passengers. Other than luggage, the vehicle was empty inside.

"Are you alone, sir?"

"Yes. Were you expecting others?" he asked, removing his sunglasses and studying me.

My knees went weak as soon as we locked eyes. His were deep blue. They stood out against his tan face. The color was unnerving. Almost like staring over the edge of a boat and into a deep blue abyss, unable to perceive depth or distance. They, like him, were stunning to behold. I needed to get a grip. Was I slobbering?

"I wasn't sure, sir. Is your family coming later?" I asked. "I haven't gone inside yet, so I'm not sure if you even have a family," I blabbered, really unlike myself. I didn't blather in front of pleasing-to-look-at people. I'd seen a million beautiful people. He was no exception. But this had to be because I was unprepared for this surprise. The new neighbor. The well-paying job, and him. And what a him he was. All of it was wonderful.

"I'll be living here alone," he said. "No family. No spouse. Just me."

"I'm sorry," I replied, wondering why his news warranted an apology. I'd figured a man like him would naturally have it all. A family included.

"No need to feel sorry for me, Chad. I've gotten used to it."

He seemed sad. I sensed a loss surrounding him and I immediately wanted to know everything about him and his perceived sadness. Stop it, Chad. Remember what Dad said. Chill the heck out.

I regained my composure and pulled his luggage from the SUV. "Shall I take these inside?" I asked. He nodded. "And is the master bedroom above the deck that I saw from the beach?"

"I think it is. All the furnishings should be set up," he advised. "Some new and some old I had in New York."

"I'll take it up now, sir."

He moved to my side and reached up to close the rear hatch. He smelled amazing. I wondered how I smelled. "I'll get the front door," he said, stepping around me and heading up the walkway.

His back was strong, with a V shape that came down to a narrow waist and a spectacularly muscular ass. Quit staring. Get a grip. Focus. He's your boss. I heard all the warnings in my mind, I just chose to ignore them and kept staring as he walked in front of me.

I felt a surging desire building in my groin region. I was surprised. I hadn't felt anything resembling a sexual urge in the months since Clint left me. My body was sending me a clear message. Hello? We're still here, Chad. Stuff works in here.

After carrying both medium-sized pieces of luggage up the stairs, I rolled them to the edge of the bed, assuming he'd want to unpack them. My eyes moved around the tastefully decorated room. Masculine colors in muted beige tones with a burgundy accent wall and modern art on the walls were perfect for a beach house.

The master suite was large, with a sitting area near French doors that led to the upper deck. A fireplace was on one wall. White brick and a white marble mantle stood out from the darker accent wall behind it. An abstract painting that resembled ocean waves hung above the fireplace.

I was drawn to a table on the opposite wall. The wooden sofa table had pictures of people, perfectly displayed in matching wall-colored frames. I stepped toward the table, my eyes drawn to an image of two men, arm in arm. They seemed happy, both smiling, one with his mouth open as if he'd been caught mid-laugh.

I picked the picture up and stared at them. One of the men was Mr. Hicks. The other was familiar. I knew this handsome man next to Mr. Hicks. I'd seen him in pictures somewhere else. How did I know him?

I turned when I heard someone step into the bedroom, catching me with the picture in hand. I had watery eyes after realizing who was staring back at me in the picture.

"Are you okay, Chad?" Mr. Hicks asked.

"You know this man?" I whispered, tapping the glass that was protecting the image before turning back to him.

Tears fell from my eyes, landing on the white-washed oak floors, forming tiny pools of memories of a special person from my past. A man I'd never met. A man I'd been thinking about lately, wishing we were still connected because I could use his guidance again.

"His name was Jack. He was my best friend."