Page 10 of Hearts Adrift (A Texas Beach Town Romance #4)

I’m not going back to the bungalow.

Not casually dropping in to see how River’s doing.

Not falling into that emotional trap.

It’s the next morning. I’m doing my hair for the day. I have a long list of to-dos all around the island. I wouldn’t even have time to invest in him, right?

At least I got to see a different side of him. Other than half-naked in a towel with all the unabashed confidence of a movie star. I saw River let down his walls. Share himself with me. Respect my space.

And say stunning things like I owed him no thanks.

Like he shouldn’t have come on to me.

Just before taking me on an adventure down a rocky shore my feet haven’t known since I was a kid.

A shore that’s been outside my window my whole life.

I’m driving across the island on my errands, and I can’t help considering if I’m being too cold. It wouldn’t hurt to drop by this evening and just check on him again, would it? Despite all the instructions to be left alone, he sure didn’t seem to mind my dropping in last night.

No. Not going to do it. Gotta keep things professional. I’m not his friend.

But I could be.

He said he has none. That he’s difficult. Lonely.

Can’t I relate to that? Aren’t I also difficult sometimes? And lonely?

I even felt lonely while I was with Theo.

The two of us in bed, on our phones, ignoring each other until one of us springs a boner.

Even then, we would sometimes take care of our needs on our own, like it was a task to do, like it was just laundry.

We didn’t have sex nearly as often as anyone assumed.

Weeks would go by where I was barely touched. I’d grow so maddeningly frustrated.

Maybe River is frustrated.

Before I know it, I’m driving past the bungalow on my way home, coming to a stop at the intersection near it.

“Nope,” I say out loud, driving on. “Not doing it.”

I go to bed that night with a pesky boner I keep trying to ignore.

But every time I turn over in my sheets, it comes back to life like a panting puppy desperate to be petted and played with.

Eventually I slip out of bed in just my briefs, pad out of the bedroom and down the hall, then stand at the window of the game room to glare at the distant bungalow.

I can see light spilling out of the back windows. Is he still awake like I am at two in the morning? Or does River sleep with lights on?

The next day is no better. I’m still thinking about him as I work in my dad’s office, sorting files and pulling out old promotions and advertisements we ran years ago that worked, searching for some new angles and ideas to try.

Each time I swing by the kitchen to grab a drink or pick-me-up snack, my eyes find the bungalow in the window.

And another day goes by that I don’t visit him.

It’s nearly four days later that I find myself at the Fair restocking one of the game kiosks with plushie prizes—the guy working it chewing my ear off about a group of loud, whiny teens who accused him of rigging the game because they couldn’t aim a plastic dart at a balloon—when I catch sight of a guy in a fitted leather jacket, baseball cap, and shades across the way. He’s perusing the souvenir stand.

I literally stop what I’m doing and stare.

Is that River? Did he come out of his bungalow finally to see what our Fair is all about?

He’s not glancing my way, so I can’t get a good look at his face.

Who else could it be? The shades, of course I understand, the sun is eye-annihilating.

But to be wearing a leather jacket? That has to feel like an oven.

Then Heather appears right in front of me, eclipsing my view. “Don’t we have stockers for this?” she asks less than kindly.

“I sent her home early,” I say distractedly, stretching to peer around my sister so as not to lose sight of him, but now there’s a big-ass family passing by, too, and each and every one of their six children have balloons . “Saving on payroll. I can finish her remaining tasks.”

“Why so stingy? Staff is already barebones as it is.”

The last thing I need is to open the can of worms that is our family legacy’s impending doom—and also I promised Dad I wouldn’t tell my sisters just yet—so I mumble out a vague, “It’s no big deal, Heather, I’ve got this. Wasn’t busy with anything else.”

“Or any one else.”

I squint at her. “The hell does that mean?”

She rolls her eyes, then continues on with whatever her duty is, tablet tucked under her arm. And when the family and everything else clears away, River is gone.

Or rather, the guy I’m pretty sure was River.

Somewhat sure.

A minute later, I’m in the office by the Ferris Wheel. Heather busily combs through a filing cabinet. “Heather—”

“Did our weird anonymous tenant seriously break into the rental because the key didn’t work?” she cuts me off.

I had a big ol’ speech prepared about her giving me attitude over my breakup with Theo and how exceedingly unfair it is that she not take my side, and every last word of that speech escapes into an alternate dimension, never to be thought of again.

She plucks out a folder and shuts the cabinet, returning to her desk. “I thought you were the one always checking up on that tired old place. Doing the upkeep during its dead months. Never noticed the front door lock was sticking?”

“Brooke had just used the key that same morning.”

“Theo would’ve noticed.” She pulls her glasses down from her nest of hair to her nose, reading the opened file. “Would’ve been on top of that, changed the lock, given the house a fresh paintjob before the guest even arrived …”

The speech comes right back. I guess it was just a brief visit to that other dimension. “I think it’s really unfair and, quite frankly, ridiculous that you keep treating me—”

“Like the villain? Because you are. He still asks about you. Just to make sure you’re doing okay. How many times have you asked about him?” she wonders out loud. “None? It’s almost like you’re glad you kicked him to the curb.”

“I am,” I state, losing my cool. “You have no idea what kind of person he really was, Heather.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles.

“Making up all these stories about himself just to keep me fascinated. Ever since we were teenagers, treating our relationship like a game of make - believe , and my life was the playground. If you only saw how quickly that mask fell right off when he realized I was ending things …”

“‘ My life was the playground ’ … You should listen to yourself.”

“He was fake. All the time, Heather. Pretending to be the boyfriend he thought I wanted. He started wearing my clothes like a costume. He’d change his opinions on the fly just to match me. He was a performer. He was …”

I almost say “an actor”.

But stop myself for some reason.

Thinking about a certain someone.

Heather takes a breath and faces me. “Don’t get me all wrong here.

I care about you, Finn. I know you’ve got your side to it.

All I’m saying is, Theo isn’t the demon you think he is, and it makes me feel a certain way to watch you go on so easily with your life while he’s an emotional wreck .

File this in the cabinet for me on your way out, please? ”

I take the folder from her and lean in. “I recommend you keep your eyes wide open, because there’s a chance he might not be as much of an emotional wreck as you think.”

After filing away the folder, I head for the door. Before I make it out, my sister asks, “What’s the new tenant like? Brooke said you met him a few days ago.”

I’m still angry. My voice can’t hide it. “He’s fine.”

“Just fine? Not sure how far I’d trust some person who doesn’t use his real name, demands not to be disturbed, and overpays—with money routed through some shell LLC.

Is that not ringing odd to you? Sure, more money for us, but the last thing we need is our name and business dragged into some drug deal scandal or whatever he’s hiding.

” She looks over at me. I’d hesitate to call the look in her eye concerned, but her voice is soft when she says, “Be careful if you have to stop by there again.”

I grip the doorknob so tightly, I could crush it like a ball of tin foil. But my voice reflects the softness in hers when I reply, “I’m always careful,” before heading out.

Always careful, I hear myself say.

After chasing a guy I don’t know down the rocky slope of our north beach in the pitch dark.

Try as I might to ignore my sister’s words, they follow me the rest of the afternoon.

They follow me to the gym as I’m on the treadmill, literally trying to outrun them.

Then they have the nerve to mock me when I go too hard on the overhead presses and pull something in my shoulder.

I go back home with an aching neck and shoulder and still hear her words as I fix my shake and down it while staring out the window at the bungalow.

I know a few more truths than my sisters do.

He’s not a drug dealer or a dangerous guy.

He’s a lonely actor in need of a place to stay.

He’s requesting a bit of solitude because he’s tired of the cameras and paparazzi, obviously.

What’s more human than wanting an escape from the stresses of your life and hiding away in a remote beach town?

All the more power to him to do exactly that.

I wonder where one escapes to when they live in said beach town.

I won’t be able to sleep a damned wink tonight.

It’s the evening when I drive down to the Quicksilver Strand—exhausted as fuck—then park and walk my sleepy ass to the Easy Breezy.

Not for a drink or cheat-day basket of fries.

I go for the warm advice of the beach town daddy that is Cooper, everyone’s second father figure, the owner of the Easy Breezy who has, in more situations than I can count, been the voice of reason when I’m struggling.

It’s an ideal night to talk to him, too, the bar slow with just a few people in and out from the beach and the waning sunlight.

And for the second time this week, he’s fucking busy with his boyfriend and totally not here.

“Seriously?” I explode at poor Chase, whose big eyes grow bigger at my outburst. “This … bar … is Cooper’s bar! Cooper … should be at Cooper’s bar now and then!”

He reaches over the counter and rubs my shoulder with care. “You really need to get yourself laid. Like, tonight.”

I shrug his hand off. “Stop. Hurts. Pulled something in my shoulder at the gym earlier.”

“Dude, you’re as tense as a boulder.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“More than because of your workout. Your attitude is like … a solid-ass … rocky … rock. You need a massage. Do you still get the hookup from Armando at the Elysian?”

Not since his last masseuse got bold and tried to give me a happy ending, but I don’t mention that. “There’s a lot going on. I needed Cooper tonight. I really needed to talk to someone who isn’t related to me.”

“I’m not related.”

“You’re also not helpful.”

Chase whips out his phone with a sigh. “Well, when I get stressed, I download a new game and play the fuck out of it. I like the little cute chiming sounds. Relaxes me.”

“I’m not a gamer.”

“I end up only playing it the once, then I get bored and delete it. All the games are the same anyway.” He frowns. “Shit. I just depressed myself. I go through games the way Adrian used to go through guys.”

Adrian is a mutual friend of ours who used to have a reputation for being a player until he recently settled down and, to everyone’s shock, got married.

Adrian has three brothers and likely would understand my need for talking to someone who isn’t one of my sisters, but he’s just about as difficult to get alone as Cooper is, wrapped up in his work at Thalassa or his new married life with his hubby.

“Dude, it just gets worse and worse,” laughs Chase, a hand over his mouth as he thumbs through his phone. “You remember that viral video earlier this week? I know,” he quickly says, “you don’t do social media, blah, blah … but dude, I can’t get away from it.”

“Just delete your apps,” I mumble, fighting off a yawn.

“Like, this actor knocks out his director, no one knows why, people are speculating. First, everyone thought there was some secret baby situation, but that proved to be a dumb rumor. Now all the pieces are being put together, and it turns out the actor is this totally argumentative, difficult, conceited nut job …”

“As fun as it is to gossip about people,” I say, lifting a hand, “unless you lived it, no one knows the full story.”

“But the full story is out there!” he insists, wiggling his phone. “That’s what I’m saying! There’s video evidence.”

I realize I’m not gonna get what I need here. Cooper has his face buried in his boyfriend’s butt and I may as well be sitting at home suffering alone. “Sorry that I’m not good company, Chase. Tell Cooper— again —that I stopped by.”

“Sorry for going on and on like this,” he sighs. “Dunno how I became so invested in the first place. Been a minute since I’ve even seen a movie starring River Wolfe.”

I slide off the stool—only to come to a dead stop, my breath hitching at the name.

I turn back. “River … who?”