Page 54 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Georgia, Six Months Later

L ord have mercy, the way those slacks fit around his ass and thighs should be illegal.

“Ope, careful, you’re making quite the mess all over the floor,” Hazel murmurs in my ear as she comes up beside me.

Dragging my gaze away from my sexy-as-sin man on the sidewalk, I look down, then over at Hazel. “What are you talking about?”

“The drool dripping out of your mouth,” she teases, a smirk tugging on her lips. “I still don’t understand how I never picked up on you two before, because now that I know, it’s so obvious.”

I snort and gesture outside. “Well, I mean, look at him! He’s sex on a stick in an Armani suit.”

Glancing outside, Hazel huffs a moment later. “You’re not wrong.”

Fletcher’s standing in front of the bookstore, talking to a man in an equally expensive looking suit—I’m assuming a client, because he’s nobody I recognize—with a pair of dark sunglasses shading his eyes and his hand stuffed into his pocket while he uses the other to animatedly explain something to this guy.

The mullet/mustache combo he’s rocking lately should make him look like a tool… but it doesn’t.

Okay, it probably does, but it sure as hell does something for me.

Sensing we’re watching him, Fletcher glances in our direction, a cocky grin spreading across his face when he catches us gawking.

Giving us a nod and a two-finger wave, he brings his attention back to the man in front of him, and then a minute later, pats him on the shoulder before sauntering inside the store.

Shoving the sunglasses on top of his head, Fletcher looks from Hazel to me.

“You ladies thirsty?” he drawls while slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. Pressing a kiss to my lips, he asks just for me to hear, “Like what you see?”

Breathing out a small chuckle, I say, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let me grab my bag.”

This afternoon, Fletcher texted me that he’s taking me somewhere once he gets off work.

I have no clue what it is, and the curiosity is killing me.

Climbing behind the wheel in my car, because I refuse to ride in that Porsche of his—love him, do not love that car—he drives us to our favorite trail.

He pops the trunk, handing me my skates before grabbing his own.

“When did you put these in here?”

“This morning. Knew you wouldn’t let me take my car, so I snuck them in before you left for work.”

“Smart man,” I muse with a chuckle. As he slips off his loafer, my brow furrows. “You’re going to rollerblade in a suit?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Maybe because it’s expensive as hell?” I snort, kicking my shoes off and tossing them in the trunk.

Flashing me a toothy grin that makes my stomach do a flip, Fletcher says, “Eh, so what? Not like I can’t afford another one.”

I roll my eyes, biting back the smile trying to come through. Since getting his trust fund back and opening the Blossom Beach location, Fletcher’s been smart with his money, for the most part, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending like he’s going to drop a ton of cash on something frivolous.

After he slings a backpack over his shoulder, we set off.

It’s a beautiful evening, the air warm, but not uncomfortably so, and while the sun is still bright in the sky, it doesn’t beat down on us, thanks to the trees covering the trail.

With the remodel and getting his office up and running, we haven’t had very much time to rollerblade together the last few months, which sucks, but I get it.

Fletcher’s been working so hard, and it’s finally starting to pay off.

Finding our favorite spot in front of the water, we kick off the skates and Fletcher pulls a blanket from his backpack, laying it on the ground for us to sit on. Then he pulls out two tiny bottles of champagne, handing one to me.

“What are these for?” I ask, my mouth curving into a grin.

“You’re about to find out, Peach.” He waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes me wonder if he’s about to try to fuck me in this park. Wouldn’t put it past him. Reaching into the backpack again, he pulls out a white envelope and hands it to me.

My pulse kicks up as I take it from him. “What’s this?”

Breathing out a small chuckle, he says, “Stop asking so many questions, woman! Why don’t you open it and see for yourself.”

Butterflies flutter around my stomach as I glance at the unmarked envelope in my hand. It’s sealed shut, and I have no idea what could be inside. My heart is in my throat as I tear it open. Peeking inside, my head snaps up, the air sucked from my lungs.

“Fletcher, no.” I shake my head, shoving the envelope and the check inside into his chest. “I can’t take that from you. What’s that even for? I don’t need it. Do you think I’m struggling?”

Chuckling, he offers it to me again. “Would you calm down and really take a look at it before assuming the worst.”

“No.” My head feels dizzy, and my skin tingles. “I don’t need to look at it again to know I cannot accept that from you.”

Not bothering to hide his smirk, Fletcher pulls out the check and turns it around for me to see. “Look at the name in the corner,” he murmurs. “It’s not from me.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes, and before I even look, I somehow already know what it’s going to say.

My hands are trembling, and I bite down on my molars as I do what he says.

Allowing myself to really look at it this time, I forget how to breathe as I do.

A cashier’s check made out to me in the amount of fifty-three thousand dollars, and the account holder… Timothy Kelly.

Timmy. The blood drains from my face, body turning ice cold.

Fletcher, the man I love, is holding a check, for me, from my ex-boyfriend. The man I once loved, the man who broke my heart and screwed me over.

“Why do you… Where did you…” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “How do you have this, Fletcher?” Eyes stinging, I blink, but before I can stop it, they fill up to the brim with moisture before spilling over and cascading down my cheeks. I'm so confused; none of this makes sense.

Fletcher smiles and reaches over, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “When I was in Charleston for graduation, I asked Reese for some help finding him.”

My heart drops. “What did you do?”

“Not what I wanted to do.” He snorts. “After we found out where he was, Reese did his attorney thing and basically threatened to sue the guy—legally, or at least, mostly—if he didn’t pay you back everything he stole from you, plus a little extra for”—using air quotes, Fletcher says—“emotional distress compensation.” Handing me the check, I finally take it.

“I know this isn’t the full amount, but it’s a start.

Lucky for you, he’s grown a pretty hefty 401k and savings account since skipping town.

With a little guidance from Reese, he emptied the latter and took out a loan against the former, and every six months, he’s to deposit money into an account I set up for you, that only you will have access to, until the amount discussed is paid in full.

I have the log-in information now, but once you change the password, I will no longer have access. ”

“How did you…”

“I may have set it up online, pretending to be you,” he offers when I don’t finish the question.

My mouth is dry, my throat feeling like sandpaper. I don’t know what to say. “You did this for me?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, I did, Peach. That fucker doesn’t isn’t going to get away with what he did to you. Over my dead body.”

A sob flies up my throat as the tears continue to fall.

My heart is pounding so fast and hard, I can’t quite take a full breath.

“I n-never thought I would see this m-money again,” I choke out.

Fletcher pulls me into his chest, strong arms wrapping around me as I proceed to soak his very nice, very expensive button-up. “Why would you do this for me?”

“Because I love you.” The honesty and raw emotion packed behind those words is staggering. “But also because you didn’t deserve what he did to you. I don’t give a shit if you got back on your feet and are thriving now. You are owed this money, and he is going to pay it.”

Fletcher went through all this trouble…for me. I can’t wrap my head around it. And this has been in the works for at least six months, and he’s never said a word.

“This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me,” I murmur. “Thank you, Fletcher. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

“You won’t,” he bites out. “You don’t owe anybody a goddamn thing, especially not me. I love you so much, Georgia, and as long as I’m walking this earth, I will do whatever I can to make sure nobody hurts you ever again.”

I pull back, wiping under my eyes. “God, I probably have makeup running down my face.”

“You do,” he confirms with a chuckle.

Laughing, I get as much of it as I can before wiping it on my pants. I cup Fletcher’s face, look him in the eye, and say, “I love you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I will never stop showing you how much I appreciate everything you do.”

Our lips meet, and I lose myself in this kiss. I pour everything into it. The love I feel for him, every last ounce of emotion swimming around inside me, everything. Looking at my life a year ago, I never would’ve imagined I’d be in love right now, my heart so full.

But I am, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

I love Fletcher more than I’ve ever loved anybody, and I know with everything in me that he loves me just as much. It’s pure, and true, and deep, and oceans wide.

It’s everything I never thought I’d experience in this lifetime, and now I can’t picture my life any other way.

The End.

For a sneak peek at Blossom Beach Book 4, please turn the page.