Page 1 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)
CHAPTER ONE
M eg Walsh stood in the doorway of her brother Tyler’s guest room, holding fresh towels she’d already changed once that morning.
The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, highlighting the surfboard wax fingerprints Tyler had left on the dresser when he left over a month ago—fingerprints she’d decided to leave because girlfriends probably found that kind of thing charming. Authentic.
“You’re doing it again,” Luke said from behind her.
She spun around, clutching the towels. “Doing what?”
“That thing where you organize everything within an inch of its life when you’re nervous.” He leaned against the doorframe, that easy smile of his both calming and mildly infuriating. “The room was perfect an hour ago. And an hour before that.”
“I want her to feel welcome.” Meg set the towels on the bed, then immediately adjusted them so the edges aligned perfectly. “Tyler’s never brought anyone home before. This Stella must be special.”
“Stella,” Luke repeated, testing the name. “Sophisticated.”
“Right? I’m thinking Estelle, maybe? Or it could be short for something Italian. Tyler mentioned she’s from Australia, but that doesn’t mean—” She stopped herself, hearing the ramble building. Three deep breaths. Count them. One. Two. Three.
Luke crossed to her, placing warm hands on her shoulders. “Tyler loves you. His girlfriend will love you. You don’t need to be perfect.”
“I’m not trying to be perfect. I’m trying to be—” She gestured at the room, searching for the word. Welcoming? Prepared? Not the sister who’d been gone for fifteen years and was now suddenly playing house in Tyler’s space while he was off falling in love on another continent?
Her phone buzzed. Tyler.
Landing at 3. Bringing Stella. Important news.
“Important news,” she read aloud, her voice climbing. “What does that mean? Important news?”
“Maybe they’re engaged,” Luke suggested.
Meg’s hands flew to her hair. “Engaged? Oh God, I should have gotten flowers. Why didn’t I get flowers? There’s time—we could stop?— ”
“Or,” Luke interrupted gently, “maybe the important news is just that he’s finally bringing someone home. That’s pretty important for Tyler.”
Right. That made sense. Tyler, her perpetually single brother who spent a ton of his time in Australia on mysterious photography jobs and the rest charming tourists at the Beach Shack while expertly deflecting any attempts at serious relationships.
Tyler, who’d perfected the art of being everyone’s friend and no one’s boyfriend.
Meg’s phone showed 12:47. Two hours and thirteen minutes until landing. Factor in deplaning, baggage claim—they needed to leave shortly to be safe.
“I changed the sheets in here twice,” she admitted.
“I know.”
“And I bought three different types of coffee because I don’t know what she drinks.”
“I saw.”
“And I made a list of restaurants in case they’re hungry, organized by cuisine type and dietary restrictions?—”
“Meg.” Luke turned her to face him. “Breathe.”
She breathed. The afternoon light caught the silver threading through Luke’s sandy hair, and his eyes held that steady calm that made her feel both seen and safely held. How did he do that?
“What if she hates me?” The words came out smaller than intended.
“Impossible,” he said simply .
“I’m living in Tyler’s house. I’ve rearranged his entire kitchen. I threw out his collection of expired hot sauce?—”
“All valid reasons for hatred,” Luke agreed solemnly. “Especially the hot sauce.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re being you. Tyler knows who you are. He asked you to stay here, remember?”
That was true. When she’d needed to head from San Francisco to Laguna Beach—leave everything—Tyler hadn’t hesitated.
My place is your place, Meg. Stay as long as you need.
But that was before Stella. Before important news.
“We should go,” she said, checking her phone again. 1:03. “Traffic might be?—”
“Meg.” Luke’s voice was gentle. “We have time.”
Meg’s phone rang. Margo’s picture filled the screen—a photo Tyler had taken last month of her arranging shells on the café ceiling, her face tilted up to the light.
“Hi, Margo.”
“Just checking you remembered to put fresh sheets in the guest room.” Her grandmother’s voice held that particular tone that meant she was both teasing and serious.
“I changed them twice.”
“Of course you did.” There was definite warmth in Margo’s voice. “Tyler called me from San Francisco during his layover. He sounds nervous. ”
“Tyler’s nervous?” Meg couldn’t picture it. Tyler, who’d surfed waves that made her stomach drop just watching, who’d traveled solo through Southeast Asia at nineteen with nothing but a backpack and a camera.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Kept asking if the house was clean, if you were comfortable there, if we had enough food at the Shack for a welcome dinner.”
“He wants to bring her to the Shack?”
“Yes.” A pause. “This is big for him, Meg.”
“I know.”
“Joey’s beside himself. He’s convinced she must be a model. Or a professional surfer. Or possibly both.”
Despite her nerves, Meg smiled. “Why would Joey think?—”
“Because Tyler said she was special and that’s all the boy needed to hear. He’s been cleaning the espresso machine for an hour. Bernie finally told him he was going to wear the chrome off.”
“Poor Joey.”
“Poor espresso machine. You haven’t seen Joey in a state of anticipation yet.” Another pause. “How are you doing with all this, really?”
Trust Margo to cut straight through. “I’m...” Meg searched for the word. “Processing. It’s just happening fast.”
“Change usually does. But Tyler wouldn’t bring her home if she wasn’t ready for us.”
“What if we’re not ready for her?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Margo’s voice gentled. “We’ve been ready for Tyler to find someone for years. And you’ll always have a place here, no matter what changes.”
The sudden thickness in Meg’s throat caught her off guard. “Thanks, Margo.”
“Family is family. That doesn’t change because it expands.”
“I know.”
“Good. Now go get them. And Meg? Try not to alphabetize anything on the way.”
“I don’t alphabetize?—”
“Yesterday you arranged the tea bags by color gradient.”
“That was different.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too.”
She hung up to find Luke watching her with that soft expression that made her feel exposed.
“Joey thinks she’s a model?” he asked.
“Or a professional surfer. Possibly both.” She tucked her phone away, mind now spinning with Margo’s words. Tyler nervous. Tyler wanting everything perfect. “We should really go now.”
“After you organize your purse?”
She looked down. She’d arranged everything perfectly without realizing. “It’s already organized.”
“Of course it is.” He kissed her temple. “Come on. Let’s go meet this model slash professional surfer.”
Minutes. They had minutes, and then everything would change. Tyler was bringing someone home. Tyler was settling down. Tyler was? —
“Oh God,” she said suddenly. “What if they want to move in together? Where will I go?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Luke said, and the ‘we’ in that sentence did something warm and complicated to her chest. “One step at a time. First, we pick them up. Then we see what the important news is. Then we panic accordingly.”
“I don’t panic,” she protested. “I prepare. There’s a difference.”
His laugh followed her out of the room. She grabbed her purse—the good one, not the everyday one—and her keys. The list of “just in case” restaurants was folded in her pocket, along with tissues in case anyone cried—happy tears, she hoped—and mints in case of post-flight breath situations.
“Ready?” Luke asked.
“No.” She locked Tyler’s door behind them, checking twice that it was secure. “Let’s go.”
The drive to LAX loomed ahead like a countdown to change. Shortly, she’d meet the woman who’d finally captured her brother’s wandering heart. Stella, with her sophisticated name and her important news and her ability to make Tyler commit to something more than a surf session.
Meg had practiced conversations in her head all morning. Casual topics. Welcoming phrases. Nothing too intense or sisterly or overwhelming. Just... perfect.
God, she really was trying to be perfect, wasn’t she?
Luke reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together. “It’s going to be fine,” he said .
She squeezed back, holding on to his certainty like a lifeline. Soon. Only minutes until Tyler’s girlfriend walked into their lives and changed everything.
Stella. Even the name sounded like change.