Chapter 6

Willow

"Ugh! Who does that guy think he is?" My arms are shaking with the anger racing through my body and my breathing is harsh.

How dare that man come into my house, demand I sell it to him, and then insult me when I don't give in.

Funny how all of a sudden you're willingly claiming the house as yours, isn't it, Willow?

I growl in frustration and head back up the stairs to continue setting up the things I bought for the bathroom since it looks like I'm going to be staying here for a while after all—a decision I made just a few hours ago after Penn left and I realized I wanted to be here to oversee the renovations.

Knowing the best way to process the developments today is venting with my best friend, I call Shauna and place her on speakerphone as I begin opening the bags of items for the bathroom, taking out my raging frustration on the plastic.

"I haven't heard from you in a few days. I was starting to think you'd been swept off your feet by a charming local carpenter. Or given up corporate life to start teaching yoga to retirees. Or maybe you'd started renovating a quaint but rundown—"

"Ha-ha. Very funny." I say, cutting her off before she can throw any more clichés at me.

"I thought so. Well, what's the update on the house?"

Naturally, I called her the second I gathered myself the other day and updated her on the mysterious inheritance that brought me here.

"I found a handyman to check out the house today. His name is Penn."

"Oh, that's kinda rugged. Is he hot?"

"Um… He's tall."

"Nice. Are you planning on climbing him like a tree?"

"Not why I called, Shauna. Can we focus, please?"

She chuckles. "Sorry. I just thought maybe you could kill two birds with one stone and get laid while you're down there, too."

I laugh. "He's not the one I would want if that were the case."

Her excitement is palpable, even from miles away. "So you're saying there is a man that you want to get it on with?"

"Yes. I mean, no." I slap my hand to my forehead. "We're getting off topic."

"Sorry. Please continue, but you'd better tell me about the man that has you all flustered."

"There's no man."

"Sure…" she draws out.

"Back to the house," I say, tearing open the plastic on the pale blue shower curtain I chose for the bathroom. "So, Penn showed up today, we did a walk-through, and he determined that most of the issues are cosmetic. However, he insisted the roof be redone and advised that I replace the water heater. It's working for the time being, but given the age of the house, it would probably have to be replaced upon selling it anyway. He checked the foundation, electrical, and the air conditioner and heater, advising I get them serviced, but also asked if there was anything I'd like to change structurally. I really want to put a cut-out in the wall separating the kitchen from the living room to open up the space, and then the more we spoke about things to fix or change, the more energized I got about watching everything come together."

"You sound invested."

"I can't remember the last time I got excited about something like this, Shauna," I reply honestly. "Probably when I started Marshall Advertising and worked my ass off to make it what it is today. But it's been years since anything new has happened, and even though that's typically how I like things, a part of me also knows this isn't permanent. My goal is still the same—fix the place up, sell it, and return to my life as I know it. But, I figured I could at least stay here for the time being and maybe enjoy the change of scenery..."

Just saying it out loud makes the situation more real by the minute. But my heart likes the sound of this idea the more I entertain it.

Be careful, Willow. You sound like you just might enjoy yourself.

The house needs work, obviously, but it's all manageable. Deep down, I guess I resonate with it—like me, it's a little worn down, with flaws I'm not sure can ever be completely mended. With some effort, though, both the house and I can find ways to mask these scars, even if they never fully disappear.

This is my way of trying to make up for my mistakes.

The words from the letter that started all of this cross my mind as I thread the hooks through the holes in the curtain and situate it on the shower rod.

Despite being here against my wishes, something about this place is stirring up a feeling in my chest that I can't name and, oddly, the same feeling pops up every time the man from the restaurant is near.

It's a complicated mix of being cautious yet curious, wanting yet holding back, and annoyed but somehow still intrigued.

Still, the fact remains, that man is just another distraction, and that's the last thing I need to pile on the already chaotic mess that is my life right now.

"That's a huge decision, Willow. What about your company?" Shauna asks, bringing me back to the conversation.

"I'm going to still be involved, obviously, working remotely until the house is done. Katrina and I will figure out how to manage everything, but—"

"I'm proud of you, you know," Shauna says, cutting off my thought.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know going down there wasn't easy for you, and now you're facing this head-on instead of running away."

"I don't run away from things," I argue, feeling immediately defensive, but it's probably because I know deep down that Shauna is right.

"Willow, you know I love you, but let's not rewrite history. You weren't sure about going down there in the first place, and as soon as you called me the other day, I was convinced you'd throw money at this and run. But you're not. And that's huge." She pauses, and then lowers her voice. "I really think you need this, babe. You need an adventure. You need to do something out of your comfort zone for once."

I stare at the shower wall, one half of the curtain hung up, the other still in my hands. "Part of me agrees with you, Shauna. But hell…I'm questioning if I'm being responsible about it. In the past week, I've dealt with a penis palooza within my company, inherited a house from a random stranger that knew my parents, fought off a gaggle of rabid geese, and then the sexy bar owner that acted like I didn't belong in his town came over just a few minutes ago and asked me to sell this house to him."

"Geese can't get r—" she starts before I cut her off.

"I know, I know! It's an expression," I huff.

"Well, we're coming back to the geese, but you really caught my attention with sexy bar owner. Now we're getting somewhere." Shauna laughs and I roll my eyes. "Spill, Willow. I knew there had to be another reason for this call."

Sighing, I muster up the resolve to admit the main source of my frustration. "I stopped into his restaurant to have a couple drinks the first night I got here, and he lectured me about my manners."

Shauna laughs. "I like him already."

I scoff. For someone who acts like the chief of the manners police, he sure didn't make any effort to make me feel welcome. At all. It's ironic, given that his restaurant and all of Carrington Cove thrive on tourism. And the way he demanded I give him this house. Truth be told—a part of me was ready to hand him the keys the second the words left his lips, just to rid myself of the hassle. It would certainly be the easiest option. But like I said, once Penn and I started talking about the house and what needed to be done, my heart lurched with want—the desire to do it myself.

And now, knowing he wants the house so badly only makes me want to hold onto it that much more. Maybe Mr. Manners needs to earn it. And maybe he needs to stop being so damn attractive that I'm contemplating entirely unethical ways in which he could earn it.

So what if he's tall and muscular, and his neatly trimmed beard is so tempting that I had to fight the need to reach out and stroke it?

So what if his jeans hugged his sculpted ass, indicating his clear dedication to his body?

And so what if the way he pursed his lips in frustration makes me wonder what those lips would feel like against my skin?

I'm just horny, haven't been tended to by something other than my hand or a vibrator in very long time. And using him to scratch that itch just isn't a smart idea.

"No. He was rude, grumpy, and way too hot for his own good," I say, setting Shauna straight.

"Oh, then he's definitely the one you need to sleep with."

I shake my head. "Um, did you not hear me before when I said he wants to buy this house?"

"I did, and what I'm confused about is why that's a bad thing. It's perfect. Have some good hate sex while you're down there, fix up the house, and then voila! You already have a buyer when you're ready to sell." I hear her rap her knuckles against a table. "What's the problem?"

Sighing, I say, "I don't need another distraction or obstacle right now, Shauna."

"Yeah, that's where I think you're wrong. A good distraction is exactly what you need. Your life is about to be very different for the next few months, so I say you jump in with both feet, and that includes getting down and dirty with a handsome bar owner."

I close my eyes and groan. "Why can't you just be on my side for once?"

"Because your side is boring."

"God, he's so hot, Shauna," I mutter softly, like saying the words is physically causing me pain.

She clicks her tongue. "We've established that. So, what's he look like?"

I slump as I take a seat on the edge of the shower, picturing him standing on my front porch and in my living room just now. "Tall, broad, jet-black hair and a trim beard on the kind of jaw you want to lick. And his forearms…" I hum in approval.

"I love forearms," she moans enthusiastically. "I think they're one of the most underrated body parts on a man. Forrest's make me feral."

"Agreed. I swear, I could lick his and I think I'd have an orgasm just from that alone." We share a hearty laugh. "But he acted so self-righteous that my attraction was flipped off as fast as you flick a light switch. Don't get me wrong, it took a lot of balls to make me that offer, I'll give him that. But the look on his face when I told him I wouldn't sell the house to him because he didn't say please made me more than pleased with myself."

Shauna laughs. "Well, now you know what he wants, so I say you use that to your advantage."

"I don't know." I shake my head, staring at the wall in front of me. "I want to screw him and punch him in his pretty face at the same time. That can't be a good sign."

"Maybe, maybe not. But it is a sign that you'll be facing some choices in the next few months, Willow, and maybe even a few that will benefit your vagina." We share a laugh again. "But the real question is, are you willing to choose what you really want, not just what you think is safe?"

I wish I could give her an answer.

***

"Don't stress." Katrina rests her hands on my shoulders as we stand in my office back at Marshall Advertising.

"Easier said than done."

"Willow, I'm telling you. Everything will be fine. Natalie is more than capable of managing things while you're gone."

Natalie is my VP of marketing, and she was one of the best employees I hired when I started my agency. She started at the bottom and worked her way up, holding as much pride in the company as I do.

"I know, and it's not like I won't be involved still. It's just hard…"

"To give up control?" Katrina finishes for me as I roll my eyes. She flashes me a reassuring smile. "I know, but you deserve this. You've never taken a vacation."

"That's not true. I took some time for both of Shauna's weddings," I counter.

"That was like four days total and you were still glued to your phone the entire time. This time, I swear, I'm only going to contact you if it's absolutely necessary." She holds her hand up like she's making a pledge to me.

My skin nearly breaks out in hives. But my assistant is right. If I'm going to do this, I need to take advantage of the trip. Relaxing is going to be difficult, but I will make an effort to let my mind rest.

Easier said than done, obviously.

My shoulders finally drop a bit. "I appreciate you. I hope you know that."

Katrina smiles. "I know you do. And when you're back, I'm going to take my hard-earned vacation."

Chuckling, I say, "You've got it."

With one final hug, I leave my office and make the rounds through the building, making sure to speak to each one of my employees before I leave. One thing I pride myself on is the culture I've created with my staff. I make it a point that they know I'm not just their boss, but their mentor, the person behind the name on the door and the one who is invested the most in our success—success that doesn't happen without their hard work.

When I finally exit the building, I settle into my car and start the drive back to Carrington Cove, my brimming suitcases situated in the back of my Tesla, along with my patience, as I sit in Friday traffic for hours.

But as soon as the lights of Carrington Cove fill my windshield, I roll down the window and breathe in the salty sea air from the driver's seat.

Just one inhale has my shoulders relaxing and my lungs expanding in comfort, a detail that I choose not to acknowledge, or I'll freak myself out again. Earlier this week as I made arrangements with my company for my extended absence and let my apartment building supervisor know I'd be gone for a few months, anxiety bloomed in my body when I realized that a part of me was apprehensive to return to the beach house.

Not just because the sooner I did, the sooner the work could be completed.

No.

It was the idea that the sunrise and sunsets over the ocean were waiting for me on the balcony of the master bedroom.

It was the idea that I could fulfill my craving for blueberry muffins from the Sunshine Bakery and coffee from Keely's.

And it was this new feeling, wondering about what would happen at the end of this trip, that had me itching to drive back on Friday evening, feeling completely different upon my return than I did the first time I came down here a week ago.

***

Walking into Catch Release, I inhale the smell of fried food and burgers. I figured I might as well start this trip off with another martini, even if the bartender was far from welcoming. At least he could pour one hell of a drink.

The same stool I sat on last week is free, so I sashay over in my heels and navy A-line dress, taking a seat as a familiar face flies past me.

"Hey! I know you." Astrid points a finger at me as she hurries by.

A smile instantly graces my lips. "And I know you."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were only in town for a few days last week." She drops a serving tray on the counter and stands before me a second later, brushing her hair from her face.

Sighing, I say, "Well, it seems I have to stick around for just a little while longer."

Her head tilts to the side. "How come?"

"Hey, Willow." Penn slides up behind Astrid, reaching underneath the bar for a few glasses before I can answer her.

"You know Willow?" Astrid turns to him, a pinch in her brow.

Penn nods. "She owns the Bayshore House now. I'm helping her with the renovations."

Her eyes widen in recognition and a knowing smile follows. "Well, isn't that convenient?"

Penn chuckles. "It sure is."

"Standing room only tonight, and here you two are, just standing. I could use some help out here."

That voice.

I don't even have to look in that direction to know who it belongs to.

"Calm your nuts, Dallas," Astrid fires back as she rolls her eyes and grabs her tray again. "I was just saying hello to my friend here." She gestures in my direction, which has his gaze drifting my way.

And when it locks onto mine, the same rage from Monday comes barreling back into me, followed by an inconvenient spark of lust.

Dallas—so that's the man's name. He stares at me with narrowed eyes, clad in a black polo shirt and dark-wash jeans. His beard is trimmed to perfection, his hair freshly cut as well, and his eyes are dark and menacing as they stare down at me, brimming with frustration and annoyance at my presence.

Well, the feeling is mutual pal, even though my vagina apparently hasn't received that message.

"Dude. You look fucking psycho right now." Penn shoves Dallas's shoulder before he places two margaritas on Astrid's tray. "This is Willow by the way," he says, motioning toward me.

"Oh, we've met."

Penn chuckles and Astrid hides a snort as my eyes bounce between the three of them.

"Oh yes. Dallas, it's such a pleasure, as always," I reply sarcastically.

Penn full-blown laughs this time, shaking his head as he moves around Dallas and reaches for a dish towel from a bucket. "Shit, brother. She's got your number already."

"Wait. This man is your brother?" I say, a little too loudly.

"Is that a problem?" Dallas asks, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing attention to the muscles in his upper body and the veins in his forearms. The man should be a walking advertisement for arm porn, and I hate that I'm thinking about that right now.

I clear my throat and lean back in my seat, flicking my finger back and forth between them. "Oh, not at all. I just don't understand how you two could be related."

Astrid throws her head back in laughter. "Oh, just hang around here a while longer, and you'll realize just how alike these two are." She pats the bar in front of me. "It was good to see you, Willow. Will I be seeing you in the morning?" She winks at me, so I'm sure she's referring to the bakery.

"Oh, definitely. I need my fix."

With a nod and a smile, she takes off to deliver her drinks, leaving me with the Beast and his brother.

Penn turns his attention back to me. "What can I make for you?"

"I'll have a…"

"Martini with three olives," Dallas finishes for me, shoving his brother out of the way. "I've got it. Go help out Brian."

Penn smirks in my direction, shaking his head at his brother before walking away. Dallas lowers his gaze to the bar well as he begins making my drink.

"I don't know if I trust you to make my drink after what happened on Monday," I quip as he moves with ease in front of me.

"Contrary to what you might think of me, poisoning my customers isn't part of my business model." he replies dryly, skewering three olives and dropping them into the glass before sliding it along the bar toward me.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth tips up as he crosses his arms again. "You're welcome. Looks like you've found your manners."

I scoff, reaching for my drink. "Oh, I've always had manners. I just reserve them for people who are deserving."

His smile grows and his stare becomes more intense. "Well then, I'll take those words as a compliment." I fight the urge to roll my eyes as he clears his throat. "So, I take it you're back in town for a while?"

Squinting at him, I take a sip of my martini. Damn. Of course it's perfect. "I am."

"Then I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, won't we?" One of his dark eyebrows arches.

"Not if I can help it," I tease, more playfully than I intended. But there is something about verbally sparring with this guy that is making my heart flutter. And the longer I talk to him, the more I get to stare at his stupid face, those stupid lips, and that stupid beard that are making me feel stupid inside.

This is not good.

"Well, then I guess you won't be needing my help with the geese after all." The snark in his voice brings me back to the present.

Fuck. The damn birds. I've forgotten all about them. "Ummm…"

"No. It's probably best this way, right? You don't trust me. Who knows if I would be giving you accurate information anyway?" Unfortunately, a small growl climbs up my throat and Dallas catches it, laughing at the sound. He taps the bar in front of me before saying, "Good luck, Willow. You're going to need it." And then he walks off, leaving me to stare at his beautiful backside as he does.

Not wanting to get caught, I shift my focus around the bar, watching Astrid wait tables, Penn help clear dishes, and other employees smile and assist other customers as I fight with my own willpower not to strangle Dallas and the notion that maybe part of me is happy to be back more than I care to admit.

There's a familiarity here, a sense of community that, before this trip, scared the living shit out of me.

But maybe it's not the worst thing in the world to be in a place where people know you by name, remember your favorite drink, and are eager to help make you feel at home. As long as you can make sure to separate business from much needed pleasure—the kind I feel a man like Dallas could definitely deliver.