Page 79 of The Beach Trap

The only saving grace is that I drove my own car, so I can escape with my head held high and don’t have to stick around pretending that Henry Alexander didn’t just turn down my accidental advance. I can’t even bring myself to look him in the face. Afraid of what I’ll see in his striking green eyes.

“You sure you don’t need me to do anything?” I ask, hoping his answer will remain no.

“It’s okay,” he says, hopping back into the boat, as if he can’t get far enough away from me. “Thanks again for the help.”

I can feel his eyes on me after he sets my beach bag and cooler on the dock, so I force myself to meet his stare and smile. He’s the only real friend I have, and I can’t afford to lose him over an awkward almost kiss. He was right to shut me down—I’m as wrong for him as wrong can be. He’s a grown man with a young daughter and a boatload of responsibility, and I’m a hot mess.

As I head back to the parking lot, a bag on each shoulder, Ithink of all the ways I’m wrong for Henry Alexander. I’m flighty as hell, for one, I don’t have a stable job, and three, he probably thinks I’m a selfish, spoiled brat. Especially after the way our day started.

And what sucks the most is that I’m pretty sure I had more fun on his damn dinghy than I would on the biggest yacht in Destin. But even if I told Henry that, I doubt he’d believe me. He has a picture of me in his mind, and that isn’t going to change.

Besides, even if he was interested—which he clearly isn’t—it could never be more than a fling since I live in Atlanta. And he’s adad. Dads shouldn’t have flings.

My stomach twists with the truth I can no longer pretend away. My dad had a fling. More than a fling. He had a second family. A family who got the best version of him. I blink away the tears threatening to fall and load up the car to head back to my empty beach house, feeling more alone than ever.

•••

The next day,I’m sitting out on the back deck, trying to think of the perfect answer for the Worthington “why” question that’s still haunting me, and trying not to think about the inappropriate dream I had last night starring me and Henry in the bucket of his little boat.

My cheeks burn with the memory—both of the dream and of his stone-cold rejection. I texted him last night, thanking him for a great day, but he hasn’t texted back yet.

As if reading my mind, my phone buzzes, making the table vibrate. My heart sinks at the sight of CoCo’s face on the screen, until I realize she’s just the person to cheer me up.

Before I can even say hello, she launches into her story.

“OMG, Kat,” she says. “I am so glad you answered. I just have to tell somebody.” I smile at the thought of beingsomeone’s “somebody,” until she spoils the compliment. “I swear, you’re the only one who answers their phone.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I can muster whatever enthusiasm or sympathy CoCo needs.

“I called the gardener with a question about the hydrangeas, and the guy is down in Key West!”

“Oh?” I say, not sure why this is a big deal.

“Right?” CoCo says. “Turns out my fuckup of a brother gave the guy a paid vacation—told him to leave town and keep collecting his paycheck. Apparently, Junior has been living in the apartment above the garage and taking care of the property himself.”

“Oh,” I say, intrigued this time.

“I know, right?” CoCo says, getting more worked up. “I haven’t told my parents because they’d die—but you’re down there, and he’s down there, and I don’t know, I was thinking maybe you could talk some sense into him?”

“I’m the wrong person for that job,” I tell her.

“You’re the only person,” CoCo says. “The only person I trust. Besides, my brother loves you. Last time I saw him, I caught him looking at your IG. He said you were hot and that he’d missed out.”

My belly flutters with the thought of reuniting with my childhood crush. CoCo has always been angling for us to end up together—plus Junior and I would make sense. A day on the water with him would be on a yacht, which is honestly where I belong.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask CoCo, resigned.

“Omigod,” CoCo gasps. “You’re my hero.”

•••

Three hours later,CoCo has somehow found out that Junior is going to Boshamps for happy hour. Since Blake has a date with her mystery man and things are still weird with Henry, Ihave no reason not to agree to show up there and “accidentally” run into Junior. CoCo promised he’d be happy to see me, which is good because I couldn’t take two rejections in as many days.

My outfit is perfectly curated, from a fun and flirty Alice + Olivia dress down to the UnderRooney thong I’m wearing beneath it all. Normally, I’d wear my favorite pair of Hanky Pankys if there was even a chance the night would end in bed—but I thought Junior might appreciate the brand loyalty.

Somewhere on the drive between the beach house and Boshamps, I start imagining a world where Junior and I might actually get together like a second chance love story. CoCo would certainly love that—she thinks a healthy relationship with a good woman from a good family could be just the thing Junior needs to save his reputation and get his old life back.

I find a parking spot right out front of Boshamps, which I take as a good sign. After yesterday, I have a new appreciation for paved parking lots. I brush away the thought of Henry and his strong arms catching me, then pushing me away, and remind myself that Junior is the kind of man I should be involved with.

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