Chapter 1

Iclimbed the stairs to the second floor of our Cape Cod beach house, tugging my suitcase behind me and making quite a racket. It was a wonder no one came out to help me—or greet me for that matter.

The only thing that gave me any comfort returning to this house was sitting on my balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and our own private beach. Since my father was drafted to Boston when I was one, we lived on the Cape from May to August—almost the entire baseball season. And I'd loved it. That is until last summer when I swore never to return.

I stepped inside my room, finding everything the way I'd left it last summer. My white walls were filled with paintings of different ocean views, but the view I loved most was just beyond the French doors. I released my suitcase and moved to the doors, opening them so I could step out onto my balcony and breathe in the ocean air.

I gasped.

A naked girl straddled a naked guy in the Adirondack chair on my balcony.

"What the hell?!" I screeched.

The girl jumped up, grabbing a beach towel and wrapping it around herself. The guy didn't move, staring out at the ocean and not bothering to look to me—or cover up for that matter.

"Get out of my room!" I screamed at both of them.

Her eyes jumped to his. "I thought this was your room?"

"It is," he said.

I pointed my index finger in the direction of my door. "Get out!"

"Your father wouldn't appreciate you talking to me that way," he said, slow and menacing.

"He knows there's a strange guy in my room?" I asked dubiously.

"Been here for almost a month." He finally stood. He was nearly a foot taller than me, and I did what I could to meet his blue gaze under a ruffled head of dirty blond hair. "Get used to it. I'm here all summer."

I kept my eyes focused on his since he was still naked, and there was no way I'd give him the satisfaction of looking down. "This is my room."

"Gonna have to talk to Daddy then because he said it was mine."

"Over my dead body," I growled.

His eyes moved down my body in a slow appraisal. "Won't be a loss." He stepped around me and finally grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around his hips then grabbed a ball cap and lowered it over his messy hair, walking out of my room with the girl and slamming the door behind them.

Dammit!

I should've known my father, a retired professional baseball player, would've taken in a college baseball player. Especially, since I was supposed to be backpacking around Europe all summer. I guess no one thought my trip would be cut short since I'd been saving up to go all year—working my ass off at the school bookstore so I wouldn't have to ask my parents for a penny.

Seething, I stepped out onto my balcony. I couldn't help looking to the chair. Anger gnawed at my insides. I bent down and grasped the chair with both hands, somehow lifting the heavy thing and launching it over the deck railing. The wood planks splintered and shattered all over the patio below.

"You better replace my chair," the guy called as he and the girl stepped around the mess and walked by the pool, past the pool house, and through the path to my beach.

"Wouldn't sit in that trash if you paid me!" I yelled before spinning around and slamming my French doors shut.

For the first time in my life, I closed the white curtains to keep out the normally breathtaking view. He could have the beach for now. But he couldn't have my room.

I stormed into the kitchen and found my father seated at a stool at the center island. "Who is he?"

"Peyton!" My father jumped up and hugged me. "You're home?"

"Clearly," I said not bothering to return his hug.

"Where's Mom?"

A strange look flittered across his face.

"I said, ‘Where's Mom?'"

"She decided to spend some time with Grandma."

"How long has she been gone?" I asked since she hadn't mentioned it in any of her check-in texts while I was away.

He shrugged.

"Well, when will she be back?" I pressed, not wanting to be alone with him for the remainder of the summer.

"You'll have to ask her," he said offhandedly, but I could tell he had no idea and it probably drove him nuts.

"I take it she didn't want to come back here either," I said.

"You seem a little jet lagged," he said.

"I'm not jet lagged," I snapped. "I'm pissed that you gave my room away."

"I didn't give your room away," he explained. "The bathroom in the guest room was being remodeled. I told him to take your room since you were supposed to be gone all summer. Why are you home early?"

"I needed the beach," I clipped, not bothering to mention Mel meeting a guy and abandoning me in Amsterdam. "Just so you know, your baseball player's a pig. Did you know he had a girl in my room with him?"

"Crew's twenty-one," my father said, as if that was explanation enough.

"Crew?" I scoffed. "What kind of name is that?"

"He's the star on the Sharks. We're his host family. If that's what he wants to do on his day off, that's not for us to say."

"You'd know."

He ignored my comment and moved to the refrigerator, grabbing a beer.

"Well, you need to tell him he can't stay in my room."

"No can do," he said before taking a long pull of his beer. "You're the one who showed up here unannounced. Your paths were never meant to cross."

"Well, now they have."

"Listen, I'm doing sports analysis for the Sox," he explained. "I'm gone for days at a time. I need to know you're not gonna cause a problem."

"You caused the problem."

"Hey, Mr. Richmond," a deep voice said.

I spun around. Crew entered alone in a bathing suit and sleeveless shirt.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Marty," my father said to him.

I rolled my eyes.

"This must be your daughter," Crew said.

"This is Peyton," my father explained. "She surprised us by coming back early from Europe."

Crew smirked. "Nice to meet you, Peyton."

"You can drop the act. He's well aware that we've already met," I said. "Did you contaminate my beach too?"

Crew choked, surprised by my candor, but he recovered like players always did. "Kept it to a minimum."

"I need you to get your stuff out of my room," I said.

"Now wait a minute, Peyton," my father said. "I never said I was relocating Crew. He's our guest."

Crew crossed his arms, his smug eyes narrowing on mine.

"Why don't you take the guest room," my father said, pulling my attention to him. "The bathroom's finished now."

"The guest room doesn't have an ocean view," I countered.

"Crew's a guest," my father said, pegging me with his eyes. "We always treat our guests with hospitality."

Feeling my anger growing, I spun away from them. "Screw this." I stormed out of the house, making my way around the pool, past the pool house, and to the sandy path. I needed my beach. I needed to be away from a man who I despised and a guy who I'd likely punch in the face if he didn't erase that smug look from it.