Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I f there was one thing Andrea knew how to handle, it was handsy men.

The first job she'd gotten after getting her license, she'd had to fend off the client when he'd mistaken her kindness for flirting. He'd marched out of the room after the massage without leaving a tip. The worst part was that he'd complained to her supervisor, and she'd had to explain the entire situation. Somehow, she'd ended up being the one embarrassed by the situation.

After that day, she'd been taught how to handle situations like that by her mentor. She was still friends with Jeana, even though the woman was twenty years older than she was and lived across the state. Actually, Jeana was her only friend outside of the employees at the camp.

"Mr. Temple, if you don't move your hand, I'll have to end this session right now," she warned for what she hoped would be the last time.

The man's hand was slowly making its way higher on the back of her leg. She jerked a few steps back until it dropped away.

The thirty-something man sat up with a chuckle.

"Come on, sweetie, don't make me beg." He reached for her, his towel slipping lower on his hips.

"This is over," she said, growing mad. As she walked towards the door, he moved quickly to block the exit. His towel lay on the ground as his arms wrapped around her.

Before she had a chance to think, the self-defense training that she'd learned in Aubrey's classes kicked in.

Mr. Temple cried out as he hit the ground.

By the time the door to the room burst open, Mr. Temple was lying on the ground, holding his arm and nuts, groaning and spewing curse words.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked her as she turned and marched out of the room. When he made a move to go into the room, his eyes filled with anger, so she stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

"Don't. He's not worth it. I'm good."

"What happened?" he growled.

"Mr. Temple has decided to cancel all his other booked massages for his stay at River Camps." She walked over to the computer and punched the keys until the man's entire schedule was cleared. "Actually," she said when she was done, "I think I'll call Beth at the front desk and have her cancel the rest of his stay here. I bet his wife is going to love that," she added with a smirk. She'd overheard Bunny Temple—yes, that was the woman's name—complaining about how bland the food was and how the drinks were watered down.

Dean stood by while she talked to Beth at the front desk. By the time Mr. Temple came out of the back room fully dressed and only slightly limping, Brett and Aaron were waiting to escort him to his cabin to get his things—including his wife, who had been lounging by the pool unaware that their trip was being cut short—and then off the property.

"You okay?" Dean asked her once they were alone.

"Fine. It's not the first time something like this happened." She shrugged. "Pisses me off every time though. I was really hoping for the tip," she finished with a sigh. She glanced down at her watch quickly. "I have twenty minutes until my next client. How about we take a walk? I could use the fresh air."

He nodded and followed her out the back door. She didn't realize she was walking so fast until Dean took her hand and slowed her down a little.

"I know you say it happens all the time, but I'm here if you want to talk," he told her.

She stopped and, after taking a long deep breath, she motioned towards a bench. They sat in the shade and she blurted out, "Why is it that the men with the smallest dicks have the balls to show it off?"

After about two seconds, he burst out laughing. "That is not what I thought you were going to say."

She smiled. "Honest, I'm good. It pisses me off and then I get a hit of adrenaline that I have to work off."

"That makes sense. You did lay the guy out." He smiled. "Aubrey's self-defense classes?" he asked.

"You know it. I really do love this place." She sighed and rested her head back, closing her eyes.

"It's the best."

Just the sound of his voice calmed her down further. The warm richness of it mixed with the cool breeze, the sound of the birds happily chirping, and the smell of the salt water were all she needed to change her perspective.

"Thanks," she said, turning to him.

"For?" he asked softly. His dark eyebrows shot up slightly.

How had she never noticed how rich and warm his eyes were before now?

"For being there," she said without thinking.

He shrugged. "I had some free time and thought I'd sit in on a session."

"No, I mean after. To help settle me." She reached over and took his hand in hers. "We're friends first, that's something I've never had before."

"What? Friends?" he asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"Not with a man I want to sleep with." She smiled when his eyes heated.

He pulled her closer and lowered his tone. She enjoyed the sexy warm sound as he said, "Really? So when do you plan on taking this next step?"

She chuckled. "When the time is right." She looked up at him. "Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to jump in bed with someone I wanted." Her eyes moved to his lips. "This is different. I want it to be." She needed him to understand. Needed to persuade herself. It had to matter. She couldn't lose him. Especially after she'd spent a lifetime dreaming of what it would be like.

His eyes moved to hers and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's different. Take as much time as you need. Until then, there's plenty we can occupy our time with." He smiled as he dipped his head lower until their lips touched softly. "So many other things we can do."

She groaned and wished they could remain right there for the rest of the day. But then they both heard the golf cart heading down the pathway towards them.

They were standing apart from one another as Brett and Aaron stopped in front of them.

"The Temples are now off the premises," Aaron said.

"Are you okay?" Brett asked her.

She nodded. "Never better."

"Tell me the bastard was at least walking funny?" Dean asked.

Aaron chuckled. "Yeah, we were wondering why. Is that your doing?" he asked Dean.

Dean shook his head and pointed his thumb at her. "She had him on the ground before I even stepped into the room."

"Damn," Aaron said, dragging the word out. "Remind me to never mess with you."

"I'll warn you to not mess with any woman on campus who has taken Aubrey's self-defense class," she pointed out. "Now, how about you give us a ride back? We've got a client in a few moments." She climbed onto the back of the golf cart.

By the end of the day, Andrea was done being around people. All people. Dean had disappeared after her next client, leaving her to handle some of the worst clients she'd ever had.

One woman actually pinched her arm and slapped at her when she claimed Andrea was being a brute and too rough. The next woman was so drunk, she barfed all over Andrea's shoes. Her last client was an older man who was covered in what looked like warts. She wore gloves for that session.

Dean was stuck working the evening shift in the main dining hall. He was dressed in board shorts and a tank top since the evening's theme was something to do with Hawaii. Maybe it was pineapples. Several of the waitresses had them on their heads.

At any rate, after picking up a dinner to go from the employee dining room, Andrea headed home. Alone.

She was thankful that her drive to and from work took her less than ten minutes. The job before this, her drive had been forty-five minutes to Panama City.

Seeing her sister's car in her driveway, Andrea groaned. The fact that Amy's shiny, expensive car was blocking the garage was nothing new. Her entire life, Amy had blocked her.

It was as if her older sister had decided to hate her the moment she'd been born. Everything Andrea had, Amy wanted. Including their parents' attention.

As an adult, Andrea could see the jealousy for what it was: a bid for attention. But the torture her sister had put her through during her childhood had molded her into the person she was today—someone who knew better than to give a shit what others thought of her. Most importantly, thanks to Amy, she knew how to stand up for herself.

Amy hated that Andrea had been the one to inherit their grandmother's house. Even though Amy had married Brad two years prior to their grandmother's passing and had a massive mansion along the beach just a few miles away, that didn't keep her sister from wanting what she had.

Her sister had met Bradley Montgomery Jr. shortly after graduating from high school. The Montgomerys were almost as well known as the Costas in the area and almost as wealthy.

The moment her sister said, "I do," she had the ability to get anything she ever wanted. She had a massive house that sat off the white sands in one of the most influential neighborhoods along the coast. She drove a sporty new SUV that cost more than Andrea made in a year. Her clothes were from the most expensive stores in Destin.

And yet every time her sister came over to visit her, something of hers went missing. Last time, it had been Andrea's new white Dr. Martens boots that she'd had delivered just days before. Her sister had snuck them out of the house in her massive bag. Andrea had saved up two months to purchase those boots.

When she confronted her sister about it, she'd denied taking them. A year later, she'd seen her sister wearing them and asked for them back. Amy's response was that she'd had them over a year, and that made them hers now.

The fact that Amy had been alone in her house—she had her own set of keys—was the proverbial icing on the cake of the shit day she'd had. Andrea hadn't given her the keys. Another sneaky trick of her sister's was to somehow copy them when she wasn't looking. She was thinking of installing one of those coded locks just to keep her out.

She walked in through the unlocked door, tossed her bag down on the entryway table, and called out, "Amy?"

"In the kitchen!" her sister's sing-song voice replied.

Andrea sighed, bracing herself. She found Amy rummaging through her fridge, as if she owned the place. "I hope you're planning to replace whatever you're taking," Andrea said, leaning against the doorframe.

Amy looked up, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, come on, Andi. Lighten up. It's just a few things."

Andrea crossed her arms. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

Amy straightened up, closing the fridge door with her hip. "Can't a sister visit without needing something?"

"Not in my experience," Andrea shot back. "So what is it?"

Amy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine. Brad and I are hosting a charity event next month, and I need a place to store some things until then. Your garage has so much more space."

"No," Andrea said flatly. "I'm not a storage unit. Find somewhere else."

Amy's eyes narrowed. "You're just being difficult because you're jealous."

Andrea laughed bitterly. "Jealous of what, Amy? Your perfect life with your perfect husband in your perfect mansion? Give me a break."

"Well, at least I have a life," Amy snapped. "What do you have, Andi? This old house is practically falling in."

Andrea felt the sting of her words but refused to let it show. Her sister's pet name, Andi, burned. It stung because Andrea knew the real meaning behind it. She and her friends had started calling her that to make fun of her when she'd worn a particularly unflattering outfit one day and they'd said she looked like a boy.

"I have a life I'm proud of. One where I don't have to steal from my sister to feel good about myself," Andrea spit back.

Amy's face flushed with anger. "You're such a bitch, Andrea."

"Get out," Andrea said, her voice icy. "Now."

Amy glared at her for a moment before changing tactics. "Okay, fine. Look, the real reason I'm here is that I need a favor."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this should be good."

Her sister sighed dramatically. "I tried to schedule our charity event at River Camps, but they're booked solid. I need you to use your influence there to get them to host the event so we don't have to have it at our place. There's simply too many people coming and more room would mean that I could charge more per seat."

Andrea stared at her sister, incredulous. "Are you serious? You want me to jeopardize my job at River Camps to pull some strings for your charity event? One that, no doubt, you somehow profit from?"

Andrea knew all about her sister's many charities. Yes, some of the money no doubt went to whatever the cause was. But the fact that it was Amy running them made her doubt that all of the money got where it was intended.

Amy's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes," she hissed. "It's for a good cause. Think of all the people we could help," Amy said, her tone dripping with insincerity.

"Unbelievable," Andrea muttered. "Even if I could do that, which I can't, it's completely inappropriate to ask. Besides, if River Camps is booked, they are booked. It's not like they can cancel someone else to fit you in. That isn't how life works. You don't get everything you want just because you have money."

Amy's eyes flashed with irritation. "That's exactly how life works. You wouldn't know since you're stuck in your second-rate job living in this dump."

"A dump you fought me for. You hired lawyers and took me to court," she pointed out, then smiled. "And lost. Twice."

Amy crossed her arms over her chest, one that Andrea knew had been enhanced in the past few years. She'd also had a nose job, a face lift, and so much Botox that she doubted her sister could smile.

She wondered if Amy had as many enhancements to her body as Andrea had tattoos.

"You always think you're so much better than me. Just because you work at that camp doesn't mean you're some saint. You owe me this," Amy hissed.

"Owe you?" Andrea felt her anger rising again. "I owe you nothing. You've done nothing but take from me our entire lives. My boots, my space, and now you want to jeopardize my career?"

Amy crossed her arms defiantly. "You're just being selfish."

"No, I'm being reasonable," Andrea said, her voice shaking with suppressed anger. "And you need to leave. Now."

"Fine," Amy spat. "But don't think this is over."

"It is for me," Andrea replied. She opened the door and watched as her sister grabbed up her massive bag. Before she could storm out, Andrea took the bag from her sister's arms.

One glance inside had her shouting, "I can't believe you." She pulled out her grandmother's silver serving bowl and several other nicknacks Amy had always wanted. "You are a child," she said as she pulled out a set of hand towels that she'd just purchased last week. "These were five dollars at Target. Go get your own." She tossed them on her table. "Seriously? What is wrong with you?"

Her sister smiled, a condescending glint in her eye. "They were tacky anyway. Besides, I would never step foot in a Target. I'll leave all the bargain hunting to people like you." She jerked her bag out of Andrea's hands and stormed out of the house.

Andrea slammed the door shut behind her sister and leaned against it. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, but her hands shook. The all-too-familiar ache of frustration and hurt that always accompanied any interaction with Amy swirled in her head and heart.

Why? Why did she still let Amy get to her? Why did it matter? Why the fuck couldn't she not care?

She grabbed her pre-made dinner and went out to sit on the back deck and eat her meal alone in the quiet of the evening. She would change the locks on her house on her next day off.