[Beachwood Bay 02.0] Unbroken Read online

  I don’t reply. What can I say? That despite everything, I forget myself when I look in his eyes? That one touch from him, and it’s like my body is burning up, so full of desire I can hardly see straight? No, I can’t tell her any of that. Somehow, admitting out loud what Emerson does to me would be like a betrayal—of Daniel, the life we’re building together, and everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. It’s a secret: my dark secret, just another to add to the collection.

  “I feel like…I need another beer,” I say finally, reaching for the bag. It’s empty. “You only bought one pack?” I cry, making my voice louder and more dramatic to distract Lacey from her still unanswered question.

  She gives me a look, like she knows exactly what I’m doing. “I didn’t think this was a three-alarm fire,” she points out.

  “There’s a liquor store in town,” I suggest. “We could just cut the crap and get some tequila. And pizza. I’m hungry,” I frown, yawning. I’ve lost track of time with our afternoon gabfest, but I know I haven’t eaten since…the PB & J sandwich I cobbled together last night? I shake my head. No wonder the beer is doing a number on me already, I’m running on nothing except fumes here.

  Lacey struggles upright. “Ooh, wait! I know what we need to do!” She crawls over to her purse and rummages around. She pulls out a bright blue flyer. “Party time!” she announces. “I saw this on my way into town. A big thing, down at the harbor tonight.”

  “A party? No fucking way.” I shut it down quickly, before she can get carried away.

  Too late.

  “But it’ll be fun, just what you need!” Lacey proclaims. “Food, booze, some dancing, some cute guys… That last part’s for me,” she adds, climbing to her feet. “You have enough to worry about, with Daniel and the Ex.”

  “Lacey, I can’t.” I say, feeling a tremor of nerves. “Something like this, he’ll be there, for sure.”

  “And you’re going to let him run your life?” Lacey challenges.

  “Yes!” I cry. “Just until I leave Beachwood.”

  “Psh.” Lacey shakes her head so fast her hair flies out in a tangled halo around her head. “I never figured you for a pussy.”

  “I’m not.” I try not to let her bait me. “I’m being sensible. The last thing I want is another awful run-in with him!”

  “Or maybe you’re just scared it won’t be awful,” Lacey adds, her eyes gleaming. “Maybe, you’re afraid that if you see him again, you won’t be able to resist dropping your panties and having one last goodbye fuck.”

  My chest constricts. Am I really that obvious?

  “Fine.” I spit, getting to my feet. “We’ll go. I don’t care.”

  Anything to prove her wrong.

  “Yay!” Lacey claps her hands together. “You and me, out on the town…after you go do something about that.” She gestures up and down, from my head to my bare feet. “I love you, but you look like a mess.”

  “It’s just a cookout,” I protest, reaching up to pat at my now-tangled hair. “Everyone’ll be totally casual.”

  “All the more reason to look drop-dead fucking hot,” Lacey declares. “Come on, don’t you want to look fine for the Ex?” she asks mischievously.

  “No!” I gasp, folding my arms across my chest.

  She sighs. “Fine then. Look good for me. I’m the one who has to stare at your raggedy-ass face all night. Just a little bit of mascara…” She comes over to me and begins prodding at my face and shirt. “And maybe a cute top, and a skirt, and some lipstick…”

  “OK, OK!” I bat her hands away. I know Lacey well enough to know she doesn’t quit. Better I save us both the hassle of her bugging me all night. “I give up. Do whatever you want to me!”

  “That’s what all the boys say.” Lacey winks.

  Since I’m already buzzed on the beer, and I figure we have a long night of drinking ahead of us, I convince Lacey to trade the Bug for a pair of bicycles. We ride into town, unsteady on the rusted old frames, making wide loops on the empty road.

  “You should have told me about the biking part before we got dressed!” Lacey huffs along beside me, her short pink sundress hiked up high as she pedals.

  “Like that would have made a difference,” I laugh. “You didn’t bring anything that hits past your thigh!”

  “Yeah, but maybe I wouldn’t have worn my lucky thong.” She shoots back, sticking her tongue out at me.

  “Guess my panties aren’t so boring now,” I tease, sing-song. We’ve already fought about my dull taste in underwear. Lacey brought a backseat full of clothing—enough to last a month—and she insisted on dressing me up in a short, white denim mini and colorful print tank. She layered my wrists with metallic bracelets that jangle in the night, and finished off the look by scrunching my damp hair into loose ringlets, and painting me with blusher and gloss.

  When I saw the result in the mirror, I have to admit, I was pleased. If I’m going to venture back into town again, there’s nothing wrong with looking good for it, I decide.

  Now, as we reach Main Street and cycle down to the harbor, I feel my nerves kick all over again. I can already hear the music and laughter from the crowd down by the docks, and I wonder if Emerson is among them, knocking back a beer with friends. Or worse, a girl.

  “Don’t make that face!” Lacey cries. “That face is banned tonight, you understand?”

  “It’s my face!” I protest weakly.

  “Yeah, and you look like you’re heading in to have Marta rip hot wax of your va-jay-jay,” Lacey retorts.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “See? Better!” Lacey cheerleads. “Trust me, by the end of the night, I’ll have you forgetting this guy ever existed. Me, or tequila, anyway.”

  We reach the harbor and chain the bikes up against a railing. I look around. It’s early, but there’s already a huge crowd. Music is blasting loud, with food stalls and tables set up serving fresh shrimp and crab-cakes. There’s a makeshift bar with beers and liquor, and the party continues all the way across the harbor: boats playing more music, lights strung up along the dock. I see locals, and unfamiliar faces; tourists and college kids, and families too. It’s a real party, and I can’t help but feel a small sense of anticipation.

  Then my eyes catch a face in the crowd: a dark-haired girl dressed in tiny cut-off shorts and a black bikini top. She’s draped over a skeevy-looking guy, doing shots. I freeze.

  “Fuck.” Lacey feels me tense up beside her. “Is he here?”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s just his sister.”

  I’m about to turn away when Brit’s eyes meet mine in the crowd. Her face goes dark. She shoves the guy aside and marches over towards us.

  I feel a flutter of nerves. I always got on fine with Brit—but that was before I skipped town and broke her brother’s heart. The gangly teenager I knew back then has been replaced by this curvaceous girl with kohl-rimmed eyes and a nose-ring—and murder in her eyes.

  She reaches us, glaring.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Brit demands. Her voice is loud and accusing, and the people nearby turn to stare.

  I blush. “Hey, Brit, how’s it going?” I ask feebly, backing up.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Brit exclaims. “You’ve got some nerve, showing up here after what you did.”

  I blink, confused. What I did?

  Brit takes another step forward, getting up in my face, but before I can say a word, Lacey steps in front of me.

  “Whoa there!” Lacey says. “Why don’t you back the fuck off?”

  Brit’s mouth drops open.

  “We’re just here for the party,” Lacey tells her, glaring. “So why don’t you run on back to lover-boy before he finds some other skank to fool around with.”

  She points to where Brit’s guy is hitting on some blonde girl, his eyes fixed to her chest while she pouts and twists her hair.

  Brit’s eyes flash with rage, and I can see her struggle between giving me a public takedown versus ta
king care of her own business. In the end, her guy wins.

  “Just stay away from Emerson, you hear me?” She points threateningly at me. Again, Lacey moves to block Brit’s rage.

  “That’s the plan, sweetheart. Go on, scoot.”

  With a final glare, Brit stalks away.

  I slowly exhale.

  “Wow.” Lacey turns back to me, grinning. “All these years, you’ve been so good and quiet…turns out, you kept all the drama right here.”

  “She didn’t used to be like that,” I protest quickly. “She was a cool kid. Into fashion design, and ponies.”

  “Yeah, well that’s not the kind of riding she does anymore.” Lacey snorts. Over by the water, Brit is yelling at the long-haired guy while the blonde smartly slips away.

  I turn back, still confused by Brit’s venom, but glad a public showdown has been avoided. “Thanks,” I tell Lacey. “For stepping in back there.”

  “I’ve always got your back,” Lacey promises. “And now it’s your turn to return the favor—as my wing-woman.” She nods over to the bar area, where a cluster of cute guys are waiting in line.

  I laugh, relieved. This at least I’ve got practice in. “Lead the way, lady.”

  We fill our plates with food and then head on over to the bar. Lacey works her usual magic, fluttering her eyelashes and pressing in close, and like magic, a space opens up for us in the packed scrum.

  “You didn’t tell me this town was so full of cute,” Lacey drawls, checking out the scene. “But I guess you were otherwise occupied.”

  “Uh huh,” I murmur, distracted. I anxiously sweep the crowd, looking for Emerson’s familiar powerful build.

  “Earth to Juliet!” Lacey snaps her fingers. I turn back. “Come on,” she demands, “help me get the bartender’s attention, this place is swamped.”

  I obediently try to find the guy in charge of the mayhem.

  Then I feel it.

  Something makes my skin prickle, and suddenly, I feel a wash of nervous exhilaration flood through my system.

  Emerson.

  I don’t even turn right away, but I know he’s here, somewhere. I can’t explain it, but it’s like my body has a special radar, just for him. I would know him in a hurricane, in a snowstorm, if I was deaf and blind. My body knows him by heart.

  Slowly, I turn around.

  There he is, over on the other side of the makeshift dance floor. He’s staring at me with a dark, unreadable expression, wearing black jeans and a faded gray T-shirt that hugs every muscle and sinew of his tanned torso. There’s a girl beside him, some stacked brunette with a tiny sundress on, chatting away, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

  The world shrinks again, to just the look in his eyes, and the sound of my heartbeat.

  I stifle a whimper, caught in his gaze.

  “Boom, victory.” Lacey lines up a row of tequila shots. She hasn’t noticed me staring across the crowd, too busy setting out the lime and salt. “Babe? Seriously, get in the game already.”

  I drag my eyes away from him, and grab the first shot glass. I down it in one, gagging at the sharp bitterness, then grab a wedge of lime to suck on.

  “That’s my girl!” Lacey cheers. “What should we cheer to?”

  I look back for Emerson, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  “The future,” I say, turning my back and reaching for the next shot.

  “Fuck yeah!” Lacey whoops. “The future!”

  Chapter Five

  Night falls, and the party kicks up a notch. A country rock-style band sets up by the bar, and soon the open space is packed, a makeshift dance floor under lanterns and the lights from the buildings nearby. Lacey gets into the party spirit: chatting, flirting, dancing with the steady stream of guys who always seem to buzz about her. There’s something about her energy, infectious and playful, that always attracts a crowd. Whether she cares enough to keep any of them around for long…Well, that’s another thing.

  I play along too: downing shots, smiling on cue to Lacey’s funny stories, and even dancing along on the edge of the group, trying to lose myself in the rhythm and laughter. But I only halfway relax. No matter what I do, I can’t stop myself from checking on Emerson, glancing to see if he’s around. There’s no sign of him anywhere, but I know he’s here somewhere, he has to be.

  I feel it.

  And who the hell was that girl I saw him with? I feel a stab of jealousy, even though I know it’s ridiculous. She was cute, but why wouldn’t she be? I’m surprised girls aren’t lining up to try it on with Emerson, and hell, maybe they are. Maybe there’s been a parade of them since I left, one after the other, after the other…

  I gulp down the rest of my drink—some fruity punch cocktail thing this time—and try not to think about it. He can date whoever he wants. I have Daniel. It doesn’t mean a thing to me.

  “Perfect timing!” Lacey announces.

  I look up. She’s back from the bar with another round of drinks. I grimace.

  “I think I’m done,” I tell her, waving away the fresh cup. My head is spinning now, and the lights are starting to blur in front of my tired eyes.

  “Lightweight,” Lacey teases. “Oh well, more for me! Hey, Garrett!” she calls, waving someone over.

  I turn. It’s the blonde bartender from Jimmy’s Tavern, grinning in a stubbly beard and plaid shirt. He’s balancing a plate full of funnel cake like a pro, weaving through the crowd.

  “I said how hungry I was, and he offered to get something. Isn’t that sweet?” Lacey coos.

  “You’re a piece of work, Lacey Sullivan,” I laugh.

  “Cute, huh?” Lacey whispers to me, as he approaches. “You’re good if I crash somewhere else tonight?”

  “Sure,” I laugh. “One of us should get some.”

  And it definitely won’t be me.

  “This is my friend, Juliet,” Lacey introduces us when Garrett arrives.

  “It’s good to meet you.” I shake his hand. “Again.”

  Lacey raises an eyebrow. “You guys know each other?”

  “We met the other night,” Garrett explains good-naturedly. “She owes me for all those broken glasses I had to clear up.”

  “Wait, what?” Lacey looks confused.

  I bite my lip apologetically. “I’m so sorry about that! Garrett was working the night of the fight,” I explain quickly to Lacey.

  Her eyes widen. “Awesome! I mean, not that you had to clean up,” she adds, running her hand over Garrett’s bicep flirtatiously. “But you got to see the whole thing. Was Jules exaggerating, or did Emerson really pound that guy?”

  “Oh, he destroyed him alright.” Garrett laughs, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. “Kenny needed a couple of stitches.”

  I wince. “I really am sorry,” I say again. Then I think of something else and gasp. “Shit, did Emerson get in trouble?” I ask anxiously. “I don’t want him to wind up barred for life or anything.”

  “Nah, he’s good,” Garrett replies, looking amused. “Dude can’t bar himself.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  He looks at me. “You know, Jimmy’s is his place. He owns it. Isn’t that right, boss?” Garrett looks past me.

  My heart skips a beat, and then I hear Emerson’s voice, the low drawl that sends shivers skittering down my spine.

  “What’s that, you talking smack about me?” Emerson’s voice is easy and teasing. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll fire your ass.”

  “No way, man,” Garrett grins. “I’m the one who brings in the college chick crowd. They love me.” He winks at Lacey, who giggles.

  “Full of yourself much,” she smacks his arm playfully, and the two begin to flirt and banter.

  I sit there, not moving a muscle. Suddenly, I’m the kind of dizzy that has nothing to do with the countless drinks I’ve consumed. I feel Emerson beside me, but I can’t bring myself to turn, or look up into his eyes.

  It’s only this morning we were on the beach together, only last night we were
fighting in the parking lot. How could he have flipped my world upside down in just twenty-four hours?

  “Hey Jules.” His voice is quiet.

  “Hi,” I reply. I look down, picking at the skin on the edge of my nail. Fuck, I realize, I’ve already destroyed my manicure.

  Lacey finally drags her attention away from Garrett. She looks at me, then up at Emerson, and back again. She suddenly chokes on her beer as she puts two and two together. “Oh, shit,” she exclaims. “It’s the ex!”

  What the hell? I want to scream. Way to be subtle, Lacey! I send her a furious look.

  “I mean, hey, I’m Lacey.” She covers quickly. “And, uh, we’re going to go dance. Isn’t that right, stud?” She grabs Garrett by the hand.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He grins, finishing his beer.

  They’re leaving me alone? With Emerson?!

  “Wait, Lacey—” I try to protest, but she just winks at me and drags Garrett off over to where couples are dancing to the live rock band.

  Shit.

  I take a short breath and sneak a sideways look at Emerson. He’s watching the crowd, tapping his foot along with the band. Casual. OK, so that’s how we’re going to play it. I can do casual. “So, you own Jimmy’s now?” I say. “That’s great. Why didn’t you say?”

  Emerson gives me a measured look. “You didn’t ask.”

  I stop. How is this my fault? “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly have time, what with you pummeling a guy, pretending like you were going to make out with me, then judging every one of my life choices.”

  My reply whips out before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my mouth, and stare at the shocked expression on Emerson’s face. He so wasn’t expecting that!

  But why the hell shouldn’t I say it? It’s the truth, after all. I let out a giggle, unable to stop myself.

  His expression changes.

  “You’re drunk,” he says shortly.

  I shrug, defensive. “So what if I am?”

  “You never could hold your liquor.” He shakes his head, and takes another gulp of his beer. “I wonder, what else has changed…?” Emerson’s mouth curves into a lascivious smile. “You still make that breathy noise when you come?”