All I Do: Paradise Beach #3 Read online

  How am I going to concentrate on opening my business and winning ten thousand dollars with this tempting, caramel-scented man nearby?

  Chapter Nine

  REMY

  I’ve had some shitty ideas in my life.

  At the end of eighth grade, a buddy and I hacked into the school computer and sent every student, teacher, and staff member a notice of a “mandatory penis check.” Obviously a shitty idea. (Fortunately, Ma was already planning on homeschooling me the following year because of my fishing tournaments, but Dad was pissed).

  Signing up for the annual python hunt in the Everglades to eradicate the non-native species and hunting them at night: shitty idea. Dangerous as all hell because of the gators. Didn’t even see one invasive snake, but thought I was going to lose an arm to a gator around three that morning.

  Signing up to be Leilani’s mentor might have been the worst idea of my life.

  I knew I’d be attracted to her, but I didn’t know how much. Somehow, even though I’ve seen her in various sexy outfits — mermaid, tight, business skirt, nothing at all — her baggy jeans, a T-shirt with a cartoon on the front, and her little brown sandals are driving me wild. Like to the point of madness.

  Maybe it’s the glasses and ponytail. Or the way she eats her pizza, tearing little bits of the crust off and munching thoughtfully.

  “I’m sorry, what were you going to show me?” I keep asking her to repeat herself, so she probably thinks I’m hard of hearing or slow. Really, I’m just captivated by how damned adorable she is. How I’d like to hug her tight. Okay, and stick my hand down those jeans and feel around. “Apologies. I’m a bit distracted.”

  She glances at me, confused.

  “It’s been a long day,” I offer.

  She frowns a little. “I was going to show you my business plan. Aren’t you supposed to look it over and tell me what you think? Also, tell me about your business plan and how you started? That’s what the contest guidelines said we should do. I spent the afternoon going over everything.”

  I clear my throat. Of course, I haven’t read the contest guidelines at all. Guess I’ll have to do that later tonight. “Right. Yes. Let me look at it.”

  She hands me a surprisingly thick folder and I leaf through it. She has everything from a mission statement to something labeled a “SWOT Analysis Worksheet.”

  “Wow, you’re thorough. I’m impressed. I didn’t have anything half this organized when I opened my business.”

  “You didn’t? Why not?” She stacks the notebooks together. There’s a ton of notebooks, all different sizes and colors, spread out on the bar.

  I shrug. “I was pretty lucky. Well, let’s be honest. Privileged. My parents were — are — loaded. And I’d won a lot of fishing tournaments from the time I was a teen. I guess you could say that I was a fishing prodigy.”

  I glance over. Jesus, her smile is achingly sweet and sexy at the same time. “I competed on the pro circuit for a while, but when I turned twenty-five, felt like I wanted to stop traveling. I love it here on the island. So, my dad co-signed for an expensive fishing boat. I’ve paid it off, thank God. Because people come from all over to fish with me. So I didn’t do all of this. My business is a little non-traditional. I guess that’s the short answer.”

  She nods. “Understandable. What kind of fishing?”

  “My specialty is tarpon. I’m a fly angler. Outside Magazine profiled me and everything, after I won the tournament at Boca Grande. But I do all kinds of charters. You know what tarpon are, right?”

  Her eyes roll around in their sockets. “I’m pretty familiar with marine life, yes. I’ve been swimming in the Gulf and in Florida’s springs probably as long as you’ve been fishing. I’m thirty years old.”

  I chuckle. “Thought so. Stupid question, my bad. Ah, an older woman.”

  Her eyes get big. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  She presses her hand to her chest. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

  I chuckle and take a sip of my soda.

  “So, what’s your secret to getting the tarpon to bite?”

  Grinning, I lean in. “You have to show the fly to the fish.”

  She frowns. “Okay…”

  “Without the fish actually seeing it.”

  Her expression relaxes into a smile. “Oh, is this like a Zen riddle?”

  “Exactly. What about you? Why did you decide to do this?” I wave my hand around the bar, which smells like the faded beer spills of years past and the sawdust of two-by-fours.

  “I’ve been thinking about this idea for a long time.”

  I shut the folder. “Can I take this with me? I’d like time to read it.” And look up all the business terms online. I’m a fisherman, not a businessman. Maybe Max can help with some of this.

  “Sure, that’s a copy I made for you.”

  She’s frighteningly prepared, and I’m not. “Tell me about how you got the idea for this.”

  She turns in her bar stool to face me full on. I force myself not to look at her cute toes in the sandals. Or her boobs. Don’t look at her boobs.

  “Well, my father ran a Greek restaurant in Hernando County, and I grew up watching him. I became a waitress at sixteen, but my true love was swimming. I was on the swim team, and when I turned twenty, I became a mermaid. I got a two-year business degree, hoping I could take over my father’s restaurant someday. But that didn’t happen.” Her shoulders droop.

  “How come?”

  “My father passed and the restaurant closed.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reach to squeeze her arm but am not sure I should. Instead, I settle for an awkward, brief pat.

  “Thanks. I guess things all worked out because I’m here.”

  “How did you get from there to here, though? It’s a few hours away, and from the looks of things, you were established as a mermaid up there. From what I saw online, anyway.”

  A sly smile creeps onto her face. She knows I’ve been checking her out online. “I loved being a mermaid. But I was getting older. Mermaids are usually in their twenties. And some other things happened. Then I inherited some money when my aunt died and thought this would be as good a place as any to start over.”

  I sense that she’s holding back part of her story. “Wouldn’t it have been better to open a bar up there, especially with all the tourists going to the park for the mermaid shows?”

  She rubs her lips together. “I felt like the mermaid scene was saturated up there. And I wanted to get away for personal reasons.”

  Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. “A guy, I assume.”

  She straightens her spine and looks over my shoulder. “Yes.”

  “You break his heart?” From the little I know about her, I imagine she’s broken a lot of hearts.

  My grin fades when I see her face fall into seriousness.

  “No.” Her voice is barely audible, and she pauses. “I might as well be honest. I was in an abusive relationship. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I suppose we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well over these next few weeks. And I have nothing to hide.”

  My mouth parts, and while I’m shocked into silence, my insides roil with white-hot rage — and shame for pushing the issue. Someone hurt Leilani? How? Who? And, where does he live, so I can fuck him up?

  “Of course you have nothing to hide. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” My voice is gravelly despite my best effort to keep it even-toned. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. You’re in a safe place now. Right?”

  Jesus, please let her say yes.

  She nods. “I made a clean break four months ago. He didn’t hit me. But he got physical. And I felt myself slipping away, you know?”

  My breaths are coming in shallow, sharp gulps.

  She continues speaking. “He pushed me. And was emotionally abusive. Not going to get into detail, but my financial situation didn’t allow me to leave. When I inherited the money, I basically escaped.”

 
Her laugh is brittle. “I did escape.”

  “Thank God.” It’s only now that I realize my hands are clenched into fists.

  “He hasn’t come after me. So that’s a positive. But I also made sure I rented a house a few doors down from the police station.”

  I flex my fingers. “Beautiful, if you ever need help, if you’re ever in danger, I want you to call me immediately. You got that? My family and I know everyone on this island, every cop and every lawyer. I also know some less savory characters, if you catch my drift. Like the shrimp boat captains and more than one biker. You ever need anything, and I mean anything, I’m just a call away. Whatever you need, I’m available.”

  Oh hell, did I just say the wrong thing? Her eyes look watery.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, blinking rapidly. “That means a lot. And it’s why I was a little skittish that night. And maybe not that experienced. I’ve only had one real relationship. Hell, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Sorry.”

  She twists in her seat so she’s facing the bar and begins fiddling with a leftover pizza crust.

  I place a hand on her back. Every cell in my body longs to pull her close and hold her. “Hey. Don’t apologize. We just did what came naturally. And it was incredible.”

  A little smile plays on her face. “It was. Maybe a little too incredible. When I left my ex, I made a promise to myself that in the future, I’d only be with men who asked for my consent.”

  “Check,” I say, grinning.

  She laughs, and I’m glad we’re back to flirting. Relieved that I can make her happy, even a little.

  “And men who communicate their desires fully.”

  “Check again. What else?”

  “Well, I made a list. I’m actually a hardcore list maker.”

  I bust out laughing and take my hand off her back. “You made a list of what you want in a man?”

  “Several. Then I decided I didn’t want a relationship. Not now.”

  “Let’s go over this list. I want to hear it.”

  A giggle slips from her mouth and she reaches for a blue notebook. “Only have sex with men who respect your boundaries.”

  “Good one.”

  “Don’t have sex with men who are emotionally manipulative.”

  Did taking Tate’s winning ticket from him at the Chamber meeting fall into this? I nod seriously, thinking about how I will fuck up any man who is emotionally abusive to her. “What else?”

  “Only have sex with men who care about your safety.”

  My heart splinters at her words. “The idea that someone would touch you and not care about your safety is unthinkable. You deserve to be worshipped, Leilani.”

  She turns to me, her giant, blue eyes shining in the too-bright, overhead lamps in the room. “I knew there was a reason why I wanted to be friends with you. You’re one of those guys who gets it. I’m glad I met you.”

  “Friends. Exactly.” A strange, almost nauseated feeling blooms in my stomach. Since I’m a confirmed bachelor, why are her words affecting me so much? It’s probably because of what she revealed about her ex. That’s it. The thought of a man harming her makes me ill. There’s nothing lower than a guy who hurts women.

  Let’s hope that guy doesn’t get it in his brain to come after her on Paradise Beach.

  Because she’s got me in her life now, and that prick will never touch her again. Never look at her, either. Because if he comes within a mile of her, he’s going to have me to deal with. I’ll protect her, no matter what.

  That’s what friends are for, right?

  Chapter Ten

  LEILANI

  The next day, I wake in bed — alone — and turn my head to peek through the open curtains at the brilliant blue of the Florida sky. I love how my bedroom window faces the east, allowing the morning sun to pour in. So different from the room I had shared with Brent, which was in a giant, suburban home. The views there had been of the other suburban homes and a construction site.

  Here on Paradise Beach, I feel my heart opening every day with beauty. It’s almost cliché to say, but it’s true. I run through my mental to-do list as I lie in bed. Today, I need to go to the hardware store to pick out fixtures and sinks for the bar. But on a day this gorgeous, all I want is to be out on the Gulf in my bathing suit, swimming in warm water.

  And running into a man on a sailboat with honey-colored eyes. I sigh out loud and flop onto my back. Chances are good that I won’t see Remy again, at least not for a while. Not after last night. My gut tells me that once a woman informs a man that she doesn’t want to screw him, he’ll vanish. Remy will likely send me a few halfhearted mentoring emails, and then I probably won’t see him again until the final Chamber of Commerce announcement of the contest winner.

  Plus, I’d told him all about my ex, and he’d looked at me with pity. I couldn’t stop talking, though. It was as if I’d felt comfortable enough to tell him my entire life story at one point.

  My phone vibrates, an insistent buzz on the top of my bureau across the room. It’s probably Mom, wanting to know how Mermosa’s coming along. I’ve asked her repeatedly to visit, but she’s been cagey. Probably her husband’s up to some shady shenanigans and she doesn’t want to admit that to me. My guess would be that she’s bailed him out of some more gambling debts.

  I fling the covers off and climb out of bed, grabbing my phone on the way out of the room. Surprisingly, it’s not Mom. It’s a number I don’t recognize. Oh, perhaps it’s the air conditioner guy; I’ve had some issues with the unit at the bar lately.

  “Hello?”

  “Mornin’ beautiful. How did you sleep?”

  A zing goes through my stomach. “Who’s this?”

  Of course, I know that growly, baritone voice because it’s somehow imprinted in my brain, but I don’t want to come off as too eager.

  “You forgot about me already. I’m heartbroken. It’s Remy.”

  “Oh hey,” I say, grinning. “Didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  I drop onto the sofa, pulling my nightshirt over my knees. “No reason. I just figured you were busy and stuff.”

  “We’re friends, right? And as your mentor, I thought I should take you around the island and give you a personal tour. Introduce you to some other business owners, tell you some of the history. Take you to brunch or lunch or whatever. You up for that today? My charter cancelled, so I’ve got the day free.”

  I sit for a moment in stunned silence. Well, this is unexpected. “I’d love to, but I need to go to the hardware store to pick out fixtures and stuff for the bar.”

  “I’ll take you and help.” He pauses. “I mean, I’m not trying to be all masculine and say that you need a man to go to the hardware store. But I’d be happy to tag along.”

  Is this really happening? Brent had always laughed at me whenever I offered to go to Home Depot for something house-related. “That…would be nice. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Pick you up in what, fifteen minutes?”

  “Fifteen minutes?” I yelp. “I just woke up.”

  “Ah. I’m a sailor. I get up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Give me an hour. I’ll text you my address.”

  “You want donuts? I’m stopping on the way.”

  “That would be amazing,” I groan.

  “I’ll be at your doorstep in an hour, beautiful. Oh, and pack your bikini.”

  I laugh. This could be fun, having a friend like him. A handsome man at my beck and call, one to bring me donuts and run errands with me. Of course, I’m convinced Remy’s trying to get in my pants, just in a very persistent, polite, and extremely endearing way.

  * * *

  “I think those sinks are perfect. And you were right about the touchless faucets, excellent idea. I can’t wait to see the bar come together.” I talk for a few more minutes as Remy sips from his mug of coffee, staring at me. Oh, hell, I’m babbling. “Sorry.”

  I take a giant slurp of my iced coffee.


  He frowns. “Why are you apologizing?”

  I shrug and look around Perkatory. It’s one of three coffee shops on Paradise Beach, and my favorite. Remy had asked if I wanted to stop before we began our tour of the island, and I’d eagerly accepted.

  “Maybe I’m starved for human interaction or something. I’m talking too much.”

  He grins and shakes his head. “You’re not. Or, if you are, I don’t care. I like listening to you.”

  I scrunch my nose. “Really?”

  “Really. And why are you starved for human contact?”

  “Well, I’ve been here four months and you’re the first person I’ve had a real conversation with.” Heat blooms on my cheeks when an image of me and Remy contacting on his boat comes to mind. We contacted, all right. With our genitals.

  Which should mean that spending time with him as a friend is awkward. Except it’s not. Oh, sure, the sexual tension is there every second, simmering in the background. But in the moments when I don’t get lost in his gorgeous eyes or focus on his muscled forearms — or stare at his hands, remembering how he’d caressed my body with them — it’s surprisingly easy to let go and be friends.

  “I’m honored to be the first person you’ve interacted with.” His eyes glitter. “And became friends with. Now. For the tour. I was thinking we’d start here on Main Street and end at my family’s resort. Did you pack your bathing suit?”

  “I have it on under my dress.” I pluck the hem of my pink, cotton, maxi dress.

  “Good. I was thinking we’d take a swim in the pool at the resort. That okay with you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Cool. Let me pay for this and we’ll get going.”

  I grab my purse. “No, I can pay. You’re taking all this time out of your schedule to shuttle me around.”

  Remy stands and kneads my shoulder as if he’s giving me a massage. “I’ve got this, beautiful.”

  My stomach tightens as he walks away. It’s pretty pathetic that a decent guy with basic manners impresses me so much. It dawns on me, like that blast of sunshine this morning, that what I’d had with Brent messed me up more than I wanted to admit, and it’s going to take time to become whole again.