CHAPTER TWO
GAVIN
My friend’s beach house looked the same as before from the outside, with maybe a few renovations done—an added wing on the right, a repaint on the outer walls, and a new door. The rest were just as I remembered: a lovely little place for a vacation and a rest house all in one, with the most beautiful view there was.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a vacation, and I wasn’t here to rest.
Sara Montgomery-Oliver had already given me her go-signal to stay here whenever I liked, and while I usually didn’t take advantage of her wealth and kindness, I took advantage of it now. Hell, I needed to get away from the city and the headache and stress it had given me so far. I needed to find time to just close my eyes from it all and recuperate, and this was the perfect place.
I needed to get over my nasty divorce and hope for a better future.
There are many things to do here, was my first thought as I looked around. I haven’t swam at the beach in a long time—hell, I hadn’t even swum in a swimming pool in forever, and I knew it was long due for me to get the muscles working other than jogging or hitting the gym.
Everyone thought being a bodyguard meant doing the most physical activities there were, but that was a huge lie. I’d been guarding a rich man’s kid daughter for about three years before my personal life got in the way and had me quitting out of respect—and in those three years, nothing much happened to warrant my charge’s or my life in danger. It was almost a nanny job, and the bond I formed with the kid just made my resentment grow at where I was now.
But resentment wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
I tried to brush it off as I searched for the spare key and found it where Sara usually hid it—inside one of the decoy flower pots decorating her front door. I inserted it in the knob and slid in quietly, taking in the interior. Again, there were next to no changes done aside from a repaint of the walls, which were now a pleasant light gray color that was almost white. She also put in a new couch, one that was bluish and reminded me of the houses in Santorini.
This kind of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar place was definitely what I needed, and I began to feel my mood lift. I placed my bag on the kitchen island and walked over to the front of the living room, which was mostly glass walls opening up to a balcony that faced a long strip of beach. Because this was private property, there was not one person in the space in front of me, though there was a pier just nearby with boardwalks and food stands. I might check it out later if I was in the mood. Or I might just stay at home, crash into bed and sleep the day off.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I could do whatever I wanted now.
*****
My ex-wife was a blonde beauty named Tanya Johnson, with the most voluptuous body in the world and a sultry smile that could make you forget everything. That was what she did to me—made me almost forget that I was guarding my charge when she strolled up to me and told me the most arousing pick-up line. I had just picked up the kid from school and was dropping the her off to an ice cream date with some other kids, and Tanya just happened to be there getting a cone.
The way she licked her cone after her pick-up line guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to say no—and by the time I was out of there, I had the biggest and hardest hard-on and couldn’t wait for our date.
Our first date ended up with us having the steamiest sex in the back of my truck, and it had been a series of sexcapades ever since. Tanya was a model who wanted to make it big, and her determination to succeed made me admire her and think she was the most passionate woman in the world. Three months into our relationship, I’d proposed to her and was so happy when she accepted, and we got married right away in a civil ceremony.
That had been the biggest mistake of my life.
It started out small, things that I didn’t give much attention to in the beginning because I was utterly smitten. She liked complaining that I didn’t earn enough—something that I thought was some kind of odd teasing at first until I began to realize that she was very, very serious. So I did side jobs because I wanted to provide for her, and at the same time didn’t want to touch my extra savings in case I needed it for future emergency uses. I gave her what I earned during those side jobs, confident that she’d put them to good use.
She used them on branded clothes, luxury bags and going to high-end parties she wasn’t invited to.
The fights that followed were wild, along with the make-up sex that had me forgiving her for everything—a repetitive cycle, really. Then there was her jealousy of my charge and the time I spent away from the house, which she counteracted by throwing parties in our home and leaving the mess for me to clean up because she was too hungover to.
Her career seemed to be going nowhere, which pissed her off. She hated the idea of having kids, something she lied about in the past as she claimed that she wanted lots of kids to dote on.
Her frustration turned to hate, making her look for outlets to let it out on—outlets like men that she flirted with and took home and did God knew what. But that didn’t stop her resentment towards me because apparently, I couldn’t provide her a better life. Two years into the marriage, and she was accusing me of holding her down and telling me that she was sick and tired of everything and just wanted out.
So when she packed her bags and told me she never wanted to see me again, I took it to heart and let her be. A few days later, the divorce papers were delivered to me, and I signed it without hesitation, knowing I’d already fought too many times for her and lost each time.
Now, it was time to get back to my old life.
Sara had said that we could talk once she was back from her vacation at her husband’s home in Texas, and all I could do at the moment was wait. She probably had a job for me, and I wanted to let her know firsthand that I wanted to take a job based on my skills, not out of pity. That was another sour point with Tanya—my friendship with my old boss and how Tanya couldn’t even benefit from Sara’s wealth. Sara didn’t really hide her dislike for Tanya, either, and I guess that put a strain on everything.
Because Sara told me to feel at home here, I began to rummage around the fridge and was pleasantly surprised when I saw that it was fully packed with tons of food and beer. I wondered if they stocked it up before going to Texas and if they had any plans to use this place when they came back. I made a mental note to list everything I ate or consumed and restock it after, not wanting to take too much from their hospitality.
I settled for a can of soda, opened it and took a sip, feeling the coldness seep into my throat. Then I wandered around the area, going up the second floor with my bag and choosing the last room, which was their guest room and the one I was used to.
I’d stayed here twice when I was still part of the security team for Sara’s business and she had been under some threats after her first husband died and opportunists found her vulnerable. That was before she proved to the world that she was just as ruthless and capable as her late husband, and a few years before she met the man who had now become her second husband. I met the guy during their wedding, a race car driver who was younger than her, and I liked him and thought they made a good team.
Images of Tanya trying to flirt with the guy ruined the mood instantly, so I tried to shake it off my mind. I really needed to stop thinking about her and try to do something productive here, such as planning my next steps after I was done with my time here. Maybe I would take Sara up on whatever job offer she had, considering my savings were depleting. Maybe I could find something else.
For now, there was only one thing I wanted to do: take a swim and clear my mind from every other thought in the world.
I stripped down and opted for some trunks, taking a towel with me as I went back downstairs and headed for the back patio where the private pool was located. It was a very pretty patio with a tiny garden on the side and walls covering every corner, with a wooden deck and a dark blue pool in the middle. The water was well-maintained and calling to me, and it was my excitement and preoccupation that didn’t allow me to hear the noise at first—that was, until I slid the patio glass doors open and stepped out.
There was a splash—a subtle splash, followed by more splashing sounds that left no doubt to what I should have noticed from the very beginning. There was someone in the pool, swimming at their leisure like they owned the place.
An intruder.
I readied my stance, watching the shadow of a figure doing laps for at least a minute. It was obviously a woman, and it looked like she had been at it for a while. Finally, her laps slowed down, and I watched her glide to the edge where the railing was located and slowly hoist herself up from the water.
She had the reddest hair I’d seen in a while, darkened by the water and plastered all over her shoulders and back. Her skin was milky white, with a few dots of freckles that suited her. She was wearing a green two-piece that was as skimpy as they came, and it looked like her curvy body was poured into it. One tug of the string would probably leave that body bare, and the confidence with which she pulled it off had me staring.
Then she pulled her arms up to slide her hair back, her breasts jutting out in the air—and my shock turned to discomfort and irritation at the same time. There was something else, but I ignored it ruthlessly.
“You have exactly one minute to get out of here, lady, or else I’m going to throw you out.”
My statement was deliberate, and I expected her to be startled, which she was. I also expected her to maybe scream and panic, to make some kind of excuse or apology before she hurried out of here as fast as she could.
She didn’t.
Instead, the woman stared at me in disbelief, almost as if I said something idiotic. Then disbelief turned to anger, making me realize what color her eyes were that I’d been trying to figure out from the very beginning.
They were the color of honey.
The woman bent down and picked something up—wait, she was picking a stool up.
Then she threw it at me.