Page 1 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

Chapter One

“I knowit’s right in front of me, but I just can’t see it.”

Jenna muttered to herself as she pushed a cart slowly through the empty wine aisle of Bohn’s Island Grocery. Monday morning was too early for wine. But she had come to the store desperate for coffee and decided to stock up on some other necessities. After her recent divorce and her mother’s death, this meant chocolate, cheese, wine, and the one thing she couldn’t find: a corkscrew.

When Jenna arrived back on Sandover Island the night before, she hadn’t thought to check her mom’s kitchen for food. In the back of her mind, she thought maybe there would be some non-perishables in the pantry or frozen meals. Instead of doing something practical like seeing what she might need at the house, Jenna had driven straight to her favorite beach access. She longed to hear the comforting roar and hiss of the ocean and feel the sand under her bare feet. The ocean tugged at her soul the way the moon pulled the tides. It always had. How had she lived three hours away for so long?

The sight of giant homes lined up along the beach made her feel sick. Jenna had seen the new builds along the beach front, but still hated them every time with as much venom as the first time she’d seen them. Three-story McMansions on stilts, painted absurd colors like pink and turquoise. Vacation homes.

The real estate agent in her noted all the features: the prime location, the square footage, the many balconies and large windows, protective storm shutters. Properties were still a bit cheaper here than the more popular beaches along the North Carolina coast, but growing exponentially every year. There were fewer and fewer of the historic, weather-beaten beach cottages along the coast. Some were taken by big storms, but more were demolished to make room for the ugly mansions.

Despite the presence of the massive house next to her, the ocean had done its work. Her soul felt lighter and the heaviness of the past year lifted, even slightly. Jenna might have stayed longer, staring at the moonlight on the water, but had caught sight of a man on the dark balcony of the house. From the shadows, he had waved, and she practically ran back to the car. The last thing she needed was to be hit on by some guy looking for a good time on vacation.

Despite creepy watching guy, the few minutes at the beach calmed her enough to face her mother’s empty house. When she arrived, she had collapsed into bed in her old room, not bothering to unpack her car or check the kitchen for food.

Which left her groaning this morning as she realized there was no coffee. After the funeral a few months before, her sister, Rachel, stayed for the weekend to start packing up. Naturally, she started in the kitchen. There wasn’t so much as a coffee filter in the cabinets. The fridge held only a box of baking soda, probably added by Rachel for freshness.

Jenna almost cried at the sight of the little orange box. Her mother had never kept one there. Neither did Jenna. Why was it that these small details and memories of her mother could send grief surging through her? When the wave of emotion passed, Jenna pulled some boots on over her yoga pants and headed to Bohn’s, the only grocery store that On Islanders used, pointedly leaving the Harris Teeter for the tourists.

She should be thankful to Rachel, really. With an entire house to pack up, having any room cleared was a help. But all Jenna could think about was coffee. And finding a corkscrew, since Rachel had emptied the drawers of all silverware and utensils.

Jenna’s cart now held two bottles of white wine, a box of trash bags, chocolate cookies, milk, Community coffee, fresh bread, and a stack of frozen Lean Cuisine meals. She had thrown a roll of duct tape on top. Because you can never have enough duct tape.

“Need some help?”

With her eyes still fixed on the shelves in front of her, Jenna could see the blue of a Bohn’s apron as an employee pushing a cart filled with cheese stopped next to her. She must be looking right at the corkscrews but could not find one.

“Yes! Please. I know it’s here, but I can’t find a corkscrew to save my life.” She ran a finger along one shelf, seeing mixers, decorative shot glasses, and cocktail shakers. Nope, nope, and nope.

A muscular arm moved right in front of her, and she stepped back as the man pulled a corkscrew right from the middle of a shelf. He held it out to her. “You were looking right at it. This one is pretty basic but will do the job.”

She looked up at him, a “thank you” dying on her lips as she recognized his square jaw, golden-brown eyes, and tousled brown hair. A tiny shiver of something moved through her stomach. It couldn’t have been attraction, despite his handsome face and playful smile. No, any feelings she might have had for this man shriveled up years ago—not that she had ever admitted that she had feelings at all. Nope. Never happened. You can’t have feelings for someone you despise.

“Jackson Wells.” His name even sounded like a curse on her lips.

He pretended not to notice and gave a little bow in his blue Bohn’s apron. “At your service, Jenna Monroe.”

She grimaced slightly hearing her maiden name. It felt both familiar and new. Jackson wouldn’t know that she had only recently changed it back. She stood blinking at him, knowing that she should say something else. Coherent words escaped her. She blamed the lack of coffee.

Certainly not the way his broad shoulders looked in the button-down white shirt underneath the apron. Or the dusting of stubble on his jaw, the only real difference in how he looked since the last time she saw him. He still had that roguish bad boy thing going on, but with Jackson, it wasn’t just a look. He had always been the bad boy. Probably still was. Leopards don’t change their spots, her mom had always said.

Last she heard, Jackson had flunked out of business school. Now he was sporting a Bohn’s apron and passing out corkscrews on a Monday morning. Fitting retribution after what he had done to Rachel. Someone—Jackson, she always assumed—had started rumors that Rachel and Jackson had hooked up at a beach party. It humiliated Rachel and seriously ticked off Jenna.

Jenna remembered holding Rachel as she sobbed. “He’s the only one who would have said anything. And it’s a lie, but no one believes me. Because what girl wouldn’t want to be with The Jackson Wells? So now I’m the super-slut of the sophomore class. You should have seen the looks I got at church.”

Jenna had been furious. Still was. But she also felt the ugly prick of jealousy that Jackson had tried hooking up with every girl in school, even her little sister, but never her. Jackson had never so much as flirted or asked her out. She couldn’t remember having a conversation with him. Which had to be some kind of record.

Sure, most of high school she had been with Steve, but her whole senior year she was single. That was the year Jackson tried to get together with Rachel. Was Jenna more upset about the rumor or that he had gone for Rachel instead of her? This wasn’t the first time she had wondered this, but the question came back up as she stood a few feet away from him.

It was an ugly train of thought, making her feel angry and sick. His smirking face before her brought to mind descriptions lifted from the pages of historical romance novels: cad, scoundrel, rapscallion. Modern words just wouldn’t do for someone like him. It wasn’t fair that jerks like Jackson Wells could be so attractive. He’d only gotten better with age.

Stop thinking about how hot Jackson is!

His deep voice interrupted her silent battle with herself. “How about some cheese to go with that wine? I’ve got Gruyere, aged White Cheddar, and some super stinky Gorgonzola.”

Jackson held up three wheels of cheese from his cart, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head when he got to the Gorgonzola. His wide smile infuriated her. He wanted to talk fancy cheese?

“No cheese. Just the corkscrew. I’m surprised you’re still working here. Do they give raises to people who have passed the twenty years of service mark? Or maybe they give you a raise so you finally get above minimum wage?”

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