Page 14

brIDGET

I stayed in my room for an hour doing yoga, hoping it would help me find some peace of mind.

It didn't work. I was an unwilling captive in my own home, my own life.

It was so hard to find a way to escape. My short time with Jaxon had given me a taste of what it would be like past the iron grip of my dad and the man I was contracted to marry.

Yoga hadn't done much, but a long run might at least exhaust me enough to dull my emotions.

I pulled on my shorts, a tank top and my running shoes.

It had been a while since I'd been out on a run, and I was sure I'd be panting like a dog in a hot car in no time, but it would feel good to get my heart pumping.

I planned to drive to the nearby park and run the path a few times.

I grabbed my keys, my earbuds and a water bottle out of the refrigerator.

Barb, dad's long-time assistant, came out from the office hallway.

The woman always had a sour face, like someone was constantly pinching her arm.

I supposed working for my dad for years could cause that permanent look.

"Bridget," she always said my name with cold precision. She glanced down at my attire. "Going for a run?"

"Bingo." I shook my keys in my palm and turned to leave.

"Oh, your father had Mike lock your car up in the garage," she said.

I turned back to her with a forced grin. "And why did he do that?"

"Because I'm taking away your transportation until you come to your senses." Dad's voice came up the hallway. Barb stepped obediently to the side as if the king had just entered the room.

"Come to my senses? Right. Well, lucky for me I've got two legs. Unless you're going to figure out a way to—oh, I don't know—shackle me to my bed?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Bridget."

"Yes, you locked my car in the garage, and I'm the one being dramatic.

Well, I'm leaving the fortress for a while, and if I'm lucky, some serial killer or creep with nefarious intentions will spot me on my run, throw me in the trunk of his car and carry me away for good.

Then you can all breathe a sigh of relief because I'll be out of your lives forever.

" I slammed the door and hurried down the front steps.

My phone rang in my pocket. I took it out, knowing full well it was yet another annoying call from a financial firm. "Bridget Walsh here," I said tersely.

"Oh, yes, Miss Walsh—" It was obvious the man wasn't expecting me to answer. "I'm Frank Ashbrook from Ashbrook and Tuttle." I was even getting calls from one of the company's partners. "I would love to talk to you about handling your finances."

"Yes, yes, I see." It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was free of the house and I felt like having some fun with Mr. Frank Ashbrook. "Well, let's see, there's my summer collection and the winter collection, however, I must warn you that I haven't bought anything new since Christmas."

There was a long pause. "Uh, I don't understand."

"Well, you want to handle my finances. The only things I own that have any value are a few designer dresses and matching shoes. Summer and winter. I could send some photos. On second thought, never mind. Please take me off your call list. I have no finances."

"But—" he blurted before I hung up the call.

The horizon was blue as sapphires, and a cooling breeze wafted on shore.

I took off at a good clip and headed in the direction of the beach.

I was surprised how well a run helped. I was feeling almost peaceful by the time I reached the steps down to Croft Beach.

It was the big source of tension between my dad and the locals.

The sand was a creamy ivory color, and it stretched along forever before being capped off by a rocky jetty on one side and black shale cliffs on the other.

Behind the sand were succulent covered hills and trees.

It was a pristine chunk of nature. It was easy to see why Dad thought it would be a good site for a luxury hotel, but it was even easier to see why the locals were willing to fight hard to protect it.

A handful of surfers were sitting out on the water spending more time chatting than catching waves.

That might have had to do with the lack of anything worth catching.

I took off my shoes and strolled through the hot sand, letting the fine grains fall through my toes.

I sat close to the water where the sand was cooler, and the breeze felt good on my skin.

I drew my knees up and circled my arms around my legs.

One of the surfers took off on a small wave.

He stood up, and I realized it was Crusoe, Jaxon's little brother.

He rode the wave all the way in, hopped off in the foamy water on shore and picked up his board.

He flicked his wet, long hair back. He was smaller in stature than his brother but just as incredible to look at.

He wasn't wearing a smile as he walked my direction, which assured me, he recognized me, too.

Crusoe tossed his board onto the sand and pushed wet hair off his forehead. "Come to look over your property?"

"If you mean my dad's property, then no. I was out for a run, and since I haven't run in months, Croft Beach was as far as I got before I needed to take a serious break." I patted the sand next to me, and he took me up on my invitation.

"Sorry if I came off like an asshole," Crusoe said.

"No, hey, I get it. Sitting out here, I mean, I'd be really mad if someone was trying to take this from me. Just to be clear—I probably hate my dad ten times more than you do."

A faint smile formed on his mouth. "Wow, then that is saying a lot."

I looked over at him. "Let me guess—you were that guy in high school—the one all the girls loved and all the guys looked up to. The guy who got sent to detention more than to the honor's roll but not because you weren't smart but because school bored the hell out of you."

His smile broadened. "You're pretty perceptive for a rich girl."

"Nah, you've just got that aura around you. Look, Crusoe, if there was anything I could do to help?—"

"You could come back to my brother. He's been a fucking bear since you left. Hate it when he's in a bad mood."

I dropped my gaze to my feet. My toes had been digging into the slightly wet sand. "I can't go back to him. It's—let's just say my dad makes that impossible."

"If you hate your dad, then why don't you just tell him to fuck off and do it anyway?"

"Cuz my dad plays dirty and mean. He's ruthless." I reached over and touched his arm. "Be careful, Cru. He doesn't let anyone get in the way of what he wants."

Crusoe shrugged. "Not afraid of him."

"You're just like your brother."

I sensed that he was taking my warning a little more seriously. He just nodded in response. "Can't let them take this beach," he said.

"I know. And I'm so sorry about all this, Cru. I really wish there was something I could do."

Crusoe motioned behind us with his thumb. "So, is that your one of your dad's henchmen? Second time I've seen him today."

I looked over my shoulder. A thick-armed man dressed all in black and with black sunglasses was walking across the sand.

I sat forward and a knot formed in my stomach. "I can't fucking believe it," I muttered and pushed to my feet.

Crusoe shaded his eyes as he squinted up at me. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah, that's Ivan Gregor, the head of Dad's security team. Dad must have called him to town." It was never easy to march confidently through soft, hot sand, but I gave it my best effort.

"This can't be real," I said sharply. "Did he actually call you down here to patrol this beach?"

Ivan lifted his dark sunglasses for only a second. He had two tiny black eyes with a bulbous nose in between. His jaw was as square as his head, and his neck was as thick as that same square head. "Hello, Miss Walsh."

"Don't fucking 'hello miss' me." I stopped in front of him. He was so giant, he actually provided shade as if I was standing under an umbrella. "What are you going to do? Break surfboards? Push around teens who are out here playing volleyball?"

"Your dad owns this section of beach, and those people are trespassing. We're just here to check things out. See what's what."

"We? Oh, that's right. How could I forget that you don't ever go anywhere without your two rock-headed sidekicks. Where are the little darlings?" I looked around for Mike and Pete, Ivan's two buddies.

His big square jaw shifted side to side. "We're just doing our job, Miss, and now, if you'll excuse me, I'm surveying the area to make a security plan. Those kids have another day out here, then this beach will be closed off as private property."

"Well, you have fun with your very important duty." I spun around and marched back to where I'd left my shoes and water bottle. Crusoe was just picking up his board to rejoin his friends.

I reached him. "Cru, they're going to shut this beach down tomorrow," I said. "My dad is going full security detail, the works. You've got to be careful."

His easy-going smile was one that probably broke a million hearts without him even realizing it. "Like I said—I'm not afraid. I'm a Stone."

It was sweet how proud they all were of their family, but this time the Stones had met their match. Nathan Walsh was a merciless asshole without even the tiniest slip of a conscience.

"Well, I'm heading back in. The sets are getting better. You're welcome any time at the Shack." He smiled at me. "Even if you are the enemy."

"Thanks, Cru. Take care."