Seagrove Secrets Read online

  Seanna died laughing and pointed at Shayla. “You totally do look like Megan Fox.”

  Shayla rolled her eyes, but smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve been there. Not recently, thank God, but I’ve been there.” She tapped Seanna on the leg. “Hey, how was your wedding, by the way?”

  “Oh,” Seanna said, waving her off. “It was good. We did it in Nashville. Really small. Just my family, and Bo and Maya came down for it. No fuss whatsoever. I posted the pictures to Facebook.” Seanna pointed at her. “This is going to sound weird, but did you unfriend me?”

  Shayla scratched her forehead, her ears filling up with heat. “No, of course not.”

  “Maya tried to find you on there, and she said she couldn’t. So I was going to do a friend suggestion, but I couldn’t find you in my friends.”

  Shayla was hoping to get away with simply saying she didn’t look on there much anymore, but the cat was out of the bag. “I closed my account.”

  “Why?”

  Shayla shrugged. “I never get on there anymore.” She left it at that, and Seanna just nodded but didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. Shayla pressed her hands down on her own legs. “Well, that’s probably as long as Blake can stand to be away from you.”

  Seanna laid down on the bed. “He’ll live. I may not though. I miss him while I’m at work, like seriously miss him like he’s on a different planet. Is that not goofy?”

  Shayla gave her a smile.

  Seanna pointed at her. “Hey, what happened to that guy you were dating when I saw you in Nashville earlier this year? You worked together, right?”

  Shayla’s heart rate picked up speed. “We broke up.”

  “Oh, wow. Really? I’m sorry.”

  Shayla shook her head. “It’s fine.”

  “When did it happen? When you moved back here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mmm,” Seanna said, nodding, clearly wanting more info, but Shayla’s lips were sealed.

  Shayla lay down beside her, settling in. “So, tell me all about the wedding.”

  Chapter Five

  Blake had been satisfied with Chase yapping away about the kickoff of college football season and who was looking good thus far, but as soon as Chase let the conversation lull for a second, Blake pounced on him.

  “So,” Blake said, holding his beer bottle, eyeing the pool house and then raising his eyebrow at Chase.

  Chase stood and went over to the oven, needlessly checking on the potatoes. “So the fuck what?”

  “So what’s this about?”

  “She needs a place to stay.”

  “Hmm,” Blake said. “If only she knew someone who worked in real estate.”

  Chase rested his ass against the counter. “I offered that. Even looked up a bunch of places for us to go see. But when she saw the pool house that was what she wanted.”

  “Why?” Blake asked.

  Chase held his hands out to the sides. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  Blake waggled a finger at him. “None of this is adding up. Are you dating her?”

  “No, I’m not screwing her. That’s what you mean to ask, isn’t it?”

  Blake shrugged. “Does Bo know about this?”

  “Fuck Bo. I’m not scared of Bo.” Blake gave him a look. “All right, I’m a little scared of Bo. But I’m not screwing her.”

  “Why not find her a place somewhere other than your backyard.”

  “Do I need to repeat that she is the one who asked if she could live there? Why do you care, anyway? She’s not your sister.”

  Blake pointed at him. “She is for all intents and purposes until Bo gets back as far as you’re concerned.”

  Chase tossed up his hand. “Why is everyone hating on me? I saw that look Seanna gave me earlier. What have I done?”

  “You go through women like potato chips. Ninety-nine percent of the time we don’t care, but Shayla is a big exception.”

  “Listen to you…we. What, you got married and now you’re a plural pronoun?”

  Blake shrugged. “It’s your ass that’s on the line, not mine.”

  Chase walked over to Blake, hovering over him, using his size for intimidation. “I’m not screwing her. Do you want me to pronounce it in Swahili?”

  Blake just gave him a lazy, dismissive look. Chase knew better than to try to act tough. He was so bad at it. Blake loved to fight, and so did Bo. They loved to fight each other like brothers, which Chase thought was idiotic. Chase was the oldest of three brothers, but he wasn’t allowed to lay a finger on either of them. His mother was a Buddhist and was all about peace. Chase had grown up soft as a result, despite his size. It usually didn’t bother him, but every once in a while he would get the urge to go up to some asshole and say boo just to watch him flinch. But this asshole at his kitchen table knew better.

  “You want to put on the steaks?” Blake asked.

  “Sure,” Chase said, moving toward the refrigerator.

  “So why do you think she wants to live here? She doesn’t seem into you.”

  Chase shoved the plastic container with the marinating steaks at Blake. “Thanks.”

  “Really, why here? Were you trying to rent it?”

  Chase closed the refrigerator door and grabbed his beer. “No, I’m telling you, she’s the one who brought it up. Started asking me all kinds of questions about it. I couldn’t really say no.”

  Blake pushed through the back door and headed for the grill. “What was she asking?”

  “Mainly about the security of the place. That seemed like her primary concern.”

  Blake set the container down and narrowed his gaze at Chase. “Did she seem overly concerned about security?”

  Chase wanted to be careful. He didn’t know what was going on with Shayla, and he hadn’t had time to get to the bottom of it. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t a single woman be concerned about security?” He glanced at the pool house where the two women were lying on the bed, talking. “Especially one who looks like her?”

  Blake looked at the pool house and then back at Chase, pursing his lips.

  “What? You’re so indifferent you can’t see she’s hot as fuck?”

  Blake glared at him. “I can see it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Chase lifted the top of the grill with authority. “And for the record, I’m capable of keeping my dick in my pants even with a beautiful girl living on my property, despite popular opinion.”

  Blake snarled at him, walking over to the pool house, and went inside.

  “She doesn’t seem into you,” Chase said, attempting Blake’s voice, which he sucked at. He chose a steak he would give to Blake and gave it the finger.

  Chase raised an eyebrow across the table at Shayla. “How many can you get?”

  She looked down at her cards. Her hand sucked just badly enough. “I’m going nil.”

  “You sure about that?” he asked.

  “Have I let you down yet?”

  He smiled at her. “All right then. I’m going for seven.”

  “Well, I think we know whose got all the cards,” Seanna said. “We’ll go seven, too.” Blake gave her a look. “We gotta go out with a bang.”

  Blake conceded.

  They all laid down their cards, Shayla throwing her highest cards on off suits when she could. With each round she sweated it a little harder, but she kept her outer appearance as cool as possible. Chase eyed her. “Will you have some trust in your partner?” she said.

  “I trust you,” he said with a grin. Was he getting cuter as the night went on, or was that just the beer? Unfortunately, she’d just had the one beer all night, so it was probably him.

  She held the last card in her hand. It was an ace, but of a suit that’d been played a few times already, so she crossed her fingers hoping Blake wouldn’t lead with hearts. Blake studied her before finally laying down his six of diamonds. She breathed a sigh of relief as they all threw down their cards and waited for her. She winced like it hurt, lowering her head, and th
en glanced up at Chase, who was holding back a grin. Either he had been counting cards, or she was a terrible actor.

  She set her card down, and Blake and Seanna both yelled, “No!” simultaneously. Seanna picked up her empty beer and shook the bottle. “Well, that was fun.”

  “I’ll help you do these dishes before we leave,” Blake said.

  “No, don’t. I’ll do them. It’s not much,” Chase said.

  “I’ll help him,” Shayla said, and Chase didn’t argue with that.

  “All right,” Blake said. “I’ll grab Sadie.”

  They hugged their goodbyes, Shayla promising to meet Seanna for lunch soon. Shayla headed back to the kitchen to get to work.

  “Thanks for staying to help me clean,” Chase said, following behind her.

  She opened the dishwasher. “I helped make the mess.”

  He walked into the living room. “What kind of music do you like?” he yelled out.

  “Different stuff.”

  “Do you like the Stones?”

  “Who doesn’t like the Stones?” she yelled back over the rush of the water.

  A minute later “Start Me Up” came through the speakers, and he appeared in the kitchen.

  “Is this a playlist you made?” she asked.

  “It’s a CD. Remember those?”

  “Vaguely. Is this Tattoo You?”

  He smiled. “Nice, you know the albums?”

  “I had this one, but so did every other redneck girl in PCB.”

  He dumped scraps into the trash from a platter. “I can’t imagine you a redneck.”

  “Try harder. I drove a ’77 Trans Am.”

  “T-tops?” he asked.

  “I wished. It wasn’t in good shape either. If I had the money back for every time I had to have it towed home, I could quit my job.”

  “Repairs must have been expensive,” he said.

  “Not when you have a brother who’s good with cars.”

  “Bo?”

  “No, Dale. He loved that car as much as I did. He’s the one who found it for me. I ended up selling it to him for five hundred bucks.”

  “What’d you pay for it?”

  She laughed. “Five hundred bucks.”

  He handed her an empty platter, smiling at her in a curious way.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re stingy with your smiles.”

  A rush of warmth came through her chest, and she averted her gaze, focusing on the dishes in the sink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I think that’s all the dishes. I’m gonna grab the bottles from outside.”

  She finished up at the sink while he picked up stuff around the pool. The slow, rhythmic “Slave” came through the speakers, which were hooked up all through the house and even outside. Chase did this head bob thing as he scrubbed the grill with a brush. He glanced at her through the window, and then did a horrible little dance with his hips that was too funny not to smile at. He pointed at her with the brush like he caught her doing something.

  She turned so he couldn’t see her face, but now she was smiling wider than she had in a while. She walked into the living room so he couldn’t see her. Windows offered a view of the pool from in there as well, but he couldn’t see her from where he was at in the outdoor kitchen. She went through the stack of CDs on the shelf by the stereo. Even though he had speakers in every room of his house, he was old school, with a massive stereo. She couldn’t even find where it had Blue Tooth, so it must not have been purchased this decade.

  He came into the kitchen, rattled around a minute in there, and then showed up with another beer for her.

  “I need to get home,” she said, but admittedly, she was stalling. She’d waited until it got dark, stupidly, and now she’d have to go home to a pitch-black-dark house. She couldn’t help it. She got lost in the moment of relaxing with friends like she was a normal person again.

  He pointed at the pool house. “You are home.”

  “I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

  “I think I can come up with a T-shirt.”

  “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

  He pointed with his beer bottle at the guest room. “I’ve got a package of them in there.”

  The idea was really tempting. She hadn’t left a single light on at Bo’s house since she had planned on being home well before this.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  He proffered the beer. “I’m sure.”

  She took it. “Thanks.” She turned back to the stack. “Do you have any music that was created this century?”

  “I’m an old soul. I grew up on my dad’s music. That was one thing we had in common.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” she asked.

  “Two younger brothers.” He pointed to a framed picture of him with two other guys on a boat. One looked a little like him, just a bit shorter, but the other one had red hair and freckles. She turned back to him. “Were you all adopted?”

  “Nope.” He walked across the room and came back with a picture of him between a woman with dark hair and features like his and a man with red hair and freckles. “This is my mom and dad.”

  She couldn’t help a smile. “That’s amazing. That’s your biological father?”

  “That’s the one. That’s just how the genes shook out. People always assumed I was adopted when we were out somewhere on our own without my mom there to put me in perspective.”

  “Are you close with your parents?”

  He frowned, some emotion she couldn’t put her finger on crossing his face. “They’re not here anymore. I mean, my dad is here, on earth, but my mom passed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her heart panging for him. She couldn’t imagine losing her parents. She knew she’d have to worry about it one day, but they were healthy right now, thankfully. “How did she die?”

  He narrowed his gaze, his mouth open but words not coming out. “She died a few years back.” He walked across the room to replace the picture on the shelf. She was sure she had asked how and not when, but she certainly wasn’t going to ask again.

  “Incubus,” he said. She took a drink of her beer, watching him curiously. He opened up a cabinet where a ton more CDs were stacked. “They made music this century.” He picked up a CD. “Not sure if they made this music this century.” He turned the CD over. “2001. Music this century. Here you go.”

  “I like Incubus,” she said, taking the CD.

  He opened the CD player and pulled out Tattoo You. “Put it in.”

  She did and waited until the first song played, “Nice to Know You.” He adjusted the volume down. “What does your CD collection look like?” he asked with a hint of a grin.

  She shrugged. “Nonexistent.”

  “You don’t have any CDs? Souvenirs from another era?”

  “I have a subscription to a streaming service.”

  He play-glared at her. “It’s not the same. You can’t hold a streaming service in your hand and look at the artwork.”

  “You can look at the band’s pictures online.”

  “Don’t you want to hold something in your hand though sometimes?”

  She shrugged and turned back toward the stereo. “I guess I don’t attach to things too easily.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t want to meet his gaze. She needed to keep this thing with him friendly. The last thing she wanted was another relationship, and according to everyone under the sun, he was only interested in one-nighters anyway. There was a day that would have appealed to her, especially with a guy like him. He was fun and easy, damn good-looking. And she’d never been with a guy who was so tall. She’d dated tall guys, but never one this tall. The idea of handing herself over to be dominated by a strong man in bed would once have made her stomach quiver in a good way, but she was nowhere near that headspace these days.

  She walked away from him and sat in an armchair across from the couch. She wanted to tuck her
leg up under her, but that would mean taking off her shoe and she wasn’t ready to be that familiar with him. “Is this where you hang out at night and watch TV?”

  “Not really. I’m usually working till late, then I just go on up and watch TV in bed.”

  “Really?”

  “If I don’t go out.”

  “You go out a lot?” she asked, ready to get his reputation out in the open.

  He shrugged. “Some.”

  She smiled. “You entertain a lot?”

  He glanced at the pool house and then to her. “Did Seanna say something to you?”

  “You could say that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What, she warned you about me?”

  “She did, and Bo did, too.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and huffed a laugh. “Yep, there’s a text from your brother. I guess I’m gonna hear it from him.”

  “I already did.”

  “What’d he say to you?”

  “Pretty much the same thing Seanna did.” He lifted an eyebrow, and she took a drink of beer and swallowed it down. She looked at the bottle. “They both said you slept around a lot, warned me not to become your next victim.” She gave him a hint of a smile so he wouldn’t think she was worried about him.

  He rolled his eyes, adjusting in his seat. “Jesus. They talk like I’m a damn man whore.”

  “I think the PC term is simply whore, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

  He held up his big hand. “Oh, excuse me. I’m just a whore then. Jesus, I’m not that bad.”

  “So what’s your number then?” She knew she was treading on thin ice here, but she had to ask.

  He averted his gaze. “I don’t know. What’s yours?”

  She huffed a laugh. “I’m not the one on trial here.”

  “I am?”

  “Kind of seems like it.”

  He rolled his eyes again, biting on his lip and shaking his head.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” she said.

  “I don’t freaking know.”