All I Do: Paradise Beach #3 Read online

  Leilani is the one for me, if she’ll have me. I wonder how quickly I can get an engagement ring made. How does a guy even buy one? I’m gonna have to ask Max and Tate.

  She flips around so I can see her backside and her new tail, which tapers to delicate, flowing points. Turning her head, she winks at me while underwater.

  My heart squeezes, and I swear to God, my eyes get wet. She comes close to the window and blows me a kiss. We haven’t said the big important words yet, but I think it’s about time.

  I point to my chest. Put my hand over my heart. Then point to her.

  I LOVE YOU, I mouth.

  She forms a heart with her hands and grins, floating slowly up to the top and out of view.

  Several minutes later, she appears at the bar, grinning from ear-to-ear. I jump off the barstool and scoop her into my arms. She’s wearing a white, fuzzy robe and black flip-flops.

  “That was incredible, babe.” I nestle my nose in her wet hair. “Really fucking amazing. You didn’t even look human. You were like a real mermaid. Something from another world. Love your hair, too.”

  “I am a real mermaid,” she purrs into my ear. “Hey. What’s this?”

  Her hand caresses my arm.

  “A surprise for you.”

  She peers at my shoulder and bicep, angling me toward the light of the tank. “Oh my God, you did it,” she squeals.

  Her fingers lightly trace the plastic over the mermaid tattoo. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice cracks. “Is that…”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Is that me?”

  “You bet, beautiful. Doesn’t it look like you?” I twist my head and raise my arm, inspecting the tattoo of the sexy mermaid with the long, wild hair and curvy body. It shows the mermaid from the back, hair swept over one shoulder and her tail flowing around her. Her face is in profile, sensual and soft.

  “I got her in this pose because it reminds me of you in the morning. When you get out of bed naked, and your hair’s all crazy-sexy. That’s what you look like to me.”

  She laughs and hugs me fiercely. The shimmery glow of the mermaid tank surrounds us, and the hypnotic music plays softly in the air. I don’t think there could be a more perfect night.

  I pull back so I can look into her beautiful face. “Hey, I don’t know if you understood what I meant a few minutes ago. Or if you were able to see me at all.”

  She grins. “I think I caught it, but maybe tell me again so I get the message loud and clear.”

  My mouth goes dry from a sudden onset of nerves. I’ve never said these words to a woman in all of my twenty-nine years. “I love you. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I love you, Leilani.”

  She wraps her arms around me and holds on tight. “And I love you, too,” she whispers.

  * * *

  A month and a half later, Leilani’s taking her first full day off from Mermosa. It’s a Tuesday, which means the bar is closed entirely. Usually, she still goes in so she can tick off things on her to-do list, but today, I’ve convinced her to play hooky because it’s such an unusually mild, late summer day in Florida.

  “I was going to take us out on the boat, but I have plans for us on land,” I say, driving her to Pioneer Park. That’s the island’s sprawling, waterfront park, with a walking path, a community pool, and a dog play area.

  We pull into a space and I grab a canvas bag.

  “What’s this?” she asks, studying the blue duffel. “I have to be at your mom’s by five so I can pick up Chunky. It’s my first shift.”

  Yeah, Ma’s added Leilani to the Chunky dog-sitting Google calendar.

  I grin. “I’ll have you back before then. You’ll see. C’mon.”

  I lead her to a spot near the water and set the bag down. “I thought we needed a day of total relaxation, so…” I bend down and unzip the bag. “I bought a two-person hammock.”

  She lets out a little squeak, and within fifteen minutes, we’ve stretched the thing out between two palm trees, anchoring it with ropes and knots. We both stand there, staring at it, cracking up.

  “Is this really going to hold both of us?” she asks.

  “You get in first.” I point at the blue, nylon contraption.

  “No, you.”

  “Okay…” I sit in it like a chair and swing my feet up while simultaneously twisting my body into a prone position. Leilani claps her hands.

  “How did you know what to do?”

  “I once used one of these while camping in Costa Rica.”

  “Ahh. Okay. Now me. But how do I climb in?”

  “Just do exactly what I did. I think that’ll work.”

  She peers at me. “I can’t just fling myself on top of you?”

  “No, babe. But it would be fun trying.”

  Gingerly, she sits on the lip of the hammock. With her delicate, ballet dancer-like movements, she inches into the cocoon, somehow sliding her gorgeous body on top of mine.

  “Oh yeah. This is the real reason I bought the hammock. So we could lie tight together like this.”

  She giggles, and somehow, we’re able to wriggle into a comfortable position while not suffocating ourselves in the extra fabric.

  “This is so nice. It’s warm and cozy.” Her tone is soft. “It makes me want to… rest.”

  “You do that. I love you, babe.”

  “Love you too, Remy. Thank you for forcing me to slow down today.”

  Within seconds, she’s asleep. Poor thing, she’s been working non-stop. The breeze blows a lock of hair into her face, and I sweep it away. I’m not tired at all, but I’m content to sway in this hammock with her, enjoying the sunshine that’s filtering through the palm fronds.

  In the distance, the blue water of the Gulf of Mexico glitters. Man, life couldn’t get any better, could it? My girlfriend's cuddled up against me, and there’s the sparkling water and bright Florida sunshine.

  I feel like I’m the owner of all the love in the world.

  Lazily, I people watch in the gently swaying hammock. None of the dudes in this park are as lucky as I am.

  My gaze drifts to two men standing near a bench about thirty feet away. They’re with a girl who can't be more than ten or eleven. She's skipping on the sidewalk, and one of the men goes after her, laughing.

  Yeah, maybe someday Leilani and I will have a kid of our own. I’ll take her fishing. Leilani will teach her to swim. I’m daydreaming of that, almost drifting off to sleep, when my eyes go back to the two men. One of them looks familiar, and I open my half-closed eyes for a better look.

  No. It can’t be. Is that fucking Chad?

  “Holy hell, that is Chad,” I whisper aloud, every muscle in my body tensing.

  Leilani awakes with a start, causing the hammock to sway. “What? Who? Hunh? Was I asleep?”

  I blink at the dark-haired guy in the distance. I haven’t seen Chad since…

  “Go back to sleep, porkchop.”

  She rubs her nose against my armpit and lets out a dissatisfied mewl. “Who’s Chad?”

  I swallow. This is not good. “Chad is… was… Natalia’s ex.”

  Leilani’s eyes snap open. “The one who was awful to her in high school? She told me a little about him. He sounded like a jerk.”

  “Yeah,” I say grimly, recalling how Nat would come home when she was a teenager, drunk and crying. Chad was such an arrogant asshole, bullying her mercilessly one minute and then using her for sex the next. “That one.”

  “She said he left the island years ago.” Leilani’s voice isn’t sleepy anymore.

  “He did. We all thought he did. His parents moved away, so he had no reason to come back after school.”

  She turns in the hammock with a groan. “Let me see him. God, I feel like a rotisserie chicken in this hammock. Which one is he?”

  “The guy in the white polo shirt.”

  A low growl forms in her throat. “He does look arrogant. He’s wearing those shorts with whales on them, like trust fund kids wear in Nantucket. Who
’s the other guy? And who’s the little girl?”

  “Dunno.” An uneasy, tense feeling has seeped into my chest. Nat’s going to come unglued if she sees him.

  And, there’s no telling what Dad, Max, or Tate will do if they see the guy. Even now, as I think about what my sister went through when she was a teenager, I want to run over there and throat punch him just for taking up oxygen.

  "I'm not going to mention this to Nat. I don't think you should, either."

  Leilani shivers a little. “No, I definitely won't. Do you think Natalia knows he’s here on Paradise Beach?”

  I press my lips to the side of Leilani’s head. “I don’t know, babe. I hope not. For his sake, and for hers.”

  THE END

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Remy and Leilani’s story!

  Up next is All I Desire, book four in the Paradise Beach series. That’s Natalia’s story, and I can’t wait for you to read it! The book will be released on all e-book platforms in January 2020.

  You can also follow me on Bookbub to receive alerts about new books.

  While you’re waiting for All I Desire, why not download SNOW ANGEL, my holiday novella, for free! All you need to do is click HERE.

  See you in 2020!

  All I Desire — Sneak Preview

  Paradise Beach #4

  Natalia

  "You're doing what?"

  Isabella shifts on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her butt. She looks at me in horror, almost as if I’ve done something offensive, like spit on her five hundred dollar ballet flats.

  I fasten my latest creation at my nape. It’s a baroque pearl and pink coral bead necklace, and might be the prettiest one I’ve ever made. “I was chosen as an amateur model. It’s for a tourism campaign promoting the island. The photo shoot is today."

  Isabella grimaces. "Sounds like torture."

  "Well, of course you'd say that, with your background." Isabella is actual, honest-to-God European royalty. She’s the most proper, private person I’ve ever met. Pretty much the opposite of me, who lets it all hang out, and then some. It's only by a random stroke of fate Isabella ended up on our Florida island. I consider it sheer luck she became my brother Tate's fiancé — and one of my close friends.

  She grunts and rolls her eyes. Well, she doesn’t grunt, exactly. It’s the Isabella version of grunting, which is more like a dissatisfied, adorable bird chirp.

  "What it sounds like," says Lauren, my other sister-in-law to be, glancing up from her phone, "Is a great opportunity to showcase your brand. I’d definitely advise against wearing a ripped tank top and black shorts, though, babycakes."

  Lauren, like her fiancé — my oldest brother Max — is effortlessly preppy. The two of them look like they just stepped out of the pages of a Brooks Brothers catalog. She tosses off nicknames like “babycakes” and “baby boo” as if she’s a living, breathing Instagram caption. Which she kind of is, considering that when she posts a photo of her and Max doing something adorable, like rescuing wild baby bunnies or making oatmeal cookies, her two million followers go apeshit.

  At first, she annoyed me a little. But her relentless, aggressive positivity has somehow wormed its way into my cold, dark heart. And dammit, I love her because she’s taken my cranky, Type-A brother and turned him into something almost human.

  I turn in Lauren’s direction and shrug. "Dunno. Doesn’t this outfit look okay? I was going to wear my gladiator sandals, the black ones." I might design delicate jewelry, but my personal fashion sense can be best described as utilitarian and, well, black. When I’m at the resort, I wear simple black dresses that are mistaken for elegant. The rest of the time? Black tank tops. Black shorts.

  Sometimes I mix it up and wear a grey t-shirt. Occasionally I dye my blonde hair some random color, like hot pink. It’s my way of standing out, I guess.

  "No. Not okay. Nowhere close to okay. Give me five minutes." Lauren springs off the sofa and sprints out of the room.

  "Oh, God. She's going to find me a new outfit, isn't she?" Lauren and Max live in the carriage house behind my parents' home. That's where we are now. I live in a condo a few miles away, because I can only stand so much family togetherness.

  "You definitely want to wear something beachy," says Leilani, who is stretched out on the floor, head propped on a giant pillow, reading a book on her iPad. She's my third sister-in-law to be, paired up with my brother Remy. Somehow the crassest, raunchiest brother of all landed an angel turned flesh. Not sure how it happened, but whatever.

  "This is pretty typical of her. She used to do this all the time in college to me," chimes in Kate. She's my only real sister-in-law; she married my brother Damien seven months ago. She, too, is incredible. A warrior who’s given up her life to help her mother fight cancer. She’s also inherited a handful with Damien.

  Holy crap, I adore these women.

  In the past year, my parents’ living room has essentially become a girl gang clubhouse. Not that I mind, because growing up with four brothers, I often felt starved for female attention. It was just me and Ma, and we’d retreat to the beach to talk about girl stuff.

  I endured years of fart jokes, fistfights and enough testosterone to fuel a football team. Probably that's why I'm a bit of a tomboy. How could I not be?

  Now, though? The girl gang taking over the Hastings house is pretty freaking awesome. Dad calls it “hand cream hour” when we gather, and we just giggle at his crotchety self. He loves it, too, I think. Mostly because he knows his sons finally have found love like he did with Ma.

  I fling myself on the giant, u-shaped console sofa, in between Kate and Isabella. "Is this a stupid idea, doing this?”

  "Absolutely," says Isabella in her formal, slightly British accent. “You’ll probably be paired with someone unsuitable. Or someone who will end up being a stalker.”

  "Maybe not. Maybe you’ll be paired with someone who will love your jewelry. Or your necklace will be on a billboard in Times Square.” Kate smiles beatifically. She’s always the voice of moderation and hope.

  "It’s an amazing idea. Maybe you'll be matched with a really hot dude," Leilani says in a bubbly voice.

  “Yeah, right.” I shoot her a smirk. Of all of them, she’s the one most concerned about my status as the last single Hastings sibling. Or maybe she’s just grateful that I saved her bacon a while ago when her abusive ex came to the island and attacked her. I whacked him with a two-by-four and ran the prick out of town. (Don’t worry, I’m a black belt in Kendo. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Mostly).

  I shrug. "I’ll probably be with someone a little eccentric. I mean, who isn’t weird on Paradise Beach? Which is cool. What are you guys doing tonight?"

  "A definite risk. You don't have to do this, you know. You can cancel," Isabella says. “Oh, Tate and I are going to the first meeting of the dragon boat team.”

  She and my brother are always doing random things like that. Kayaking. Windsurfing. Turtle habitat restoration. Tonight it’s dragon boats.

  "That’s cool. You know, Lauren’s right. This is a good branding opportunity for my jewelry. And the resort. That's why I'm doing it. Ahh, screw it. I'm going to leave. Won't wait for Lauren. I look fine the way I am."

  As I'm getting to my feet, Lauren flits in, carrying a dress encased in a plastic dry cleaner's sleeve.

  "Here. Put this on. It'll be perfect with the necklace." She hands me the bag.

  "Fine," I grumble. "I'm going to concede that you probably know more about this kind of thing than I do, being a famous Instagram influencer and all."

  Lauren points to the bathroom. "Go. You don't have much time. Here. Let me help."

  She follows me into the bathroom and helps extract the pale pink dress from the hangar. "It's ethereal. See how it's several layers of thin fabric? It’s from a boutique in London. I’ve only worn it once, when Max and I went out to dinner. I was worried he’d rip it when we were kissing—"

  I pantomime a gag. “Stop. Please. Yo
u know the rules.” That’s the one downside to being friends with my brothers’ love partners. They slip up and talk about intimate stuff, as if Max, Tate, Remy and Damien have the sexual prowess of the most experienced porn stars. It makes me shudder to even consider

  Lauren giggles.

  I take the flimsy material of the skirt between my fingers. "It looks a little delicate," I squint as I strip off my tank top.

  “The black lace bra won’t go with it, not even a bit.” Lauren’s voice is matter-of-fact.

  I sigh and undo the bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Braless? Really?”

  “You’re lucky enough to not need one. Arms up.” She slides it off the hangar and gathers the material. "It's sleeveless. You shaved, right?"

  "Reluctantly." I lift my arms and inspect my pits, sniffing. “At least I smell good today.”

  She slides it over my arms and down my body. "Take off your shorts."

  Winking at her lasciviously, I do, fumbling with them under the layers of gossamer-like fabric. "What do you think? It makes me want to twirl like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music."

  I take a spin, the uneven, gauzy hem brushing against my legs.

  Lauren takes me by the arm and drags me in front the mirror on the back of the door. "It's gorgeous. See? You look like a beach goddess. Like Botticelli’s Venus.”

  I blink at my reflection and wince at the pink frothy dress. "It looks like I've fallen into a cloud of unicorn diarrhea."

  * * *

  I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of Natalia’s story! It will be released in January 2020 on all e-book platforms!

  About the Author

  Tamara Lush lives with her Italian husband and two dogs on Florida’s Gulf Coast.

  Her book, Constant Craving, was a 2018 RWA Rita Finalist in erotic romance. She was one of 24 writers chosen for the Amtrak Residency program in 2016.

  Tamara is a fan of vintage pulp fiction book covers, Sinatra-era jazz, 1980s fashion, tropical chill, kombucha, gin, tonic, beaches, iPhones, Art Deco, Spanish telenovelas, coloring books, street art, coconut anything, strong coffee and newspapers.