Besotted by Rebecca Sharp
Miles
“Ladies.” I slowly tugged my black tee over my head, smirking. “It’s been a pleasure.”
The two girls from the Pub last night, Kristy and Lemon, giggled as they only half-assed covered themselves with the bedsheet in their room of the bed and breakfast.
“Thanks for a great night, Miles,” Kristy murmured, twirling her long brown hair around her finger as she eyed me from the bed.
“Anytime.” I winked, pulling my hair behind my head and throwing on my Madison Construction cap. “Safe travels home and tell your friend I said congratulations.”
I didn’t remember what the bride’s name was, not that it mattered; I’d never see these girls again. They were Frisco girls through and through. Carmel Cove had only been a one-stop-party-shop for them—one that we’d all enjoyed.
Or tried to.
I let myself out of the room, checking my cell to see several messages from Eli and a missed call from Mick. Great.
I hit Mick’s number to call him back, otherwise my little brother would send out the search party. And by search party, I knew my better half would call the Covingtons, and putting up with my brother and my best friend and their persistent concern was better than dealing with a security team who’d get to the bottom of a problem I was handling just fine on my own.
“You alright?” were the first words Mick uttered when he picked up the call.
“Just left the room of two lovely bridesmaids who were in town for a good time, so I think I’m more than alright, little brother.” My voice was both testy and teasing, letting Mick decide which direction he wanted to take the conversation.
Even though we were twins, he was the younger by three minutes in spite of the fact he was the larger of the two of us.
“Maybe you should lay off the drinkin’ while I’m gone.”
Guess he’d decided to go with testy.
“Not havin’ this discussion again, Mickey,” I bit out as my feet pounded down the stairs of the Magnolia Inn, and I let myself out the front door. “Just because I like to get drinks after work some nights doesn’t mean I have a problem and sure as shit doesn’t mean I ever needed you babysittin’ me. In fact, if I recall, I was the one who saved your ass and took the rap for beatin’ the shit out of that Easter egg asshole.”
My accusation was met with silence that told me I was right.
A few months ago, when Mick and Jules were in the process of gettin’ together, we’d been at the Pub when Jules had been assaulted by one of the guests from her parents’ resort. I couldn’t even remember the fucker’s name right now, but he was a golfer which meant he dressed like a damned Easter egg with a balding head and legs. The asshole had tried to hurt Jules and, because my little brother was a fool in love, he beat the ever-living shit out of the guy.
But I’d been the one to stay and take the heat from the cops, telling them it was me, so that Mick could get Jules home safely.
“I know you don’t have a drinkin’ problem, Miles. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a problem…” my brother replied softly.
“My problem is I got a lot to get done today, Mickey,” I huffed, throwing open the door to my black Wrangler and climbing in. Glancing in the rearview, I checked that the large duffel bag was still in the back seat. Hard to tell by the size of it, but all my shit was packed into that thing and another, smaller bag in the trunk. “I’m alright, alright?”
Another beat of silence as I revved the engine to life.
The Jeep was just over a year old. We’d moved up here with Mick’s truck—the business truck. Once we were settled and had a few jobs lined up, I’d gone out and purchased my car, along with every upgrade the dealership and the internet could provide me. Engine, suspension, matte-black paint, wheels, massively treaded tires… I’d invested in the vehicle, in the very first purchase of my new life because I’d felt hopeful.
But some problems are like the sun. No matter how far you run, no matter where you stop, when you look up, they’re still there, blinding your perspective and casting shadows on your life.
“You know I’m here,” he offered with a strained voice.
I did. But there was nothing he could do for me. He’d already done too much.
“Yeah.” I pulled out onto the street and headed up toward my apartment building that I would be vacating in the next hour. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the McDonell mansion?”
Even though Mick had moved up to Monterey for the short term while Jules was in school, it was only less than an hour from Carmel, so it really wasn’t affecting our construction business. This week, we had a huge kitchen remodel scheduled at one of the multi-million dollar mansions that lined the scenic coastal drive between the two towns.
“Yeah.” He sighed.
I ended the call before he said anything else. He didn’t need to. He was my brother—my twin—I knew he was there for me, that he’d do anything for me. I didn’t know how else to tell him that there wasn’t anything left to do.
I rolled down the windows in the Jeep as I navigated the town’s streets, taking a deep breath of ocean air mixed with the hydrangeas that hung from the lamp posts along the curb. My fingers tightened on the leather steering wheel as I passed by Roasters, my whole body instantly on alert.
I should stop for coffee, but I couldn’t. Not this morning. Not after seeing Eve last night.
Swearing, I adjusted my dick, frustrated as fuck that apparently not even two girls was enough to stop the way my body wanted only her. The one I couldn’t have. The one who wanted more.
What happened was simple. The Miles who convinced his brother to move thousands of miles away from their home, the Miles who thought that Carmel would be a fresh start, who saw the Jeep as some sort of symbol of a clean slate… that Miles had been given a reality check.
The moment I thought about anything or anyone lasting more than a night or a few, fear and self-loathing crawled through my veins like black ice, showing me nothing but a life laced with danger that would take me down without warning.
Just like Amanda had done.
But no matter how much I wanted Eve, how much she tempted me like a fucking forbidden fruit, she was clear about what she would want from me, and it was something I was unwilling… unable… to give. I just had to pray that her visit to the Pub was an outlier and not the new norm.
If I wanted good coffee, I had to see her. If I wanted to stop at the bakery, there was a chance I would run into her. If I wanted to hang out with my—our—friends, including my own brother, it was likely she would be there. But the Carmel Pub. That was my safe space.
The Pub had been my haven for three reasons; one, it provided alcohol to numb the parts of me that were still struggling to accept that forever was no longer in my cards. Two, it presented me with ample opportunities to meet women who were looking for the same uncomplicated thing. And three… equally-important three… most important three… Eve was never there.
Except last night.
I pulled into the lot of the apartment complex I used to live in and swung the Jeep into a spot.
Last night was supposed to be a celebration. As much as I loved my brother, the longer I lived here, the harder it became to enjoy spending time around people who were finding the kind of future that I’d thought for sure I’d had in the fucking bag since I was five fucking years old. Ash. Eli. Mick… they had all found good women, and I was happy as fuck for them.
But it seemed like the more they found, the more lost I became. So, I decided to pull back.
Which was why I was celebrating the end of my lease last night—a lease for an apartment that I hardly stayed in anymore.
“Mr. Madison.” The older woman in the leasing office, with her silver-spun hair and large bifocal glasses, smiled up at me. “How can I help you?”
“Just stoppin’ in to collect my security deposit, Janice.” I’d only been down here a handful of times over the last year, mostly in the last few months as I squared away ending my lease, but I made it a point to remember the woman’s name. My momma had always taught us that no matter the circumstances, you treat people like people, and not means to an end—and the first step of that was always learnin’ their name.
“Today’s the day then?” Her eyes twinkled.
When I’d terminated my lease, she’d asked where I was moving to. I hadn’t told anyone about this, and since she wasn’t liable to spill the beans anytime soon, I’d taken a few minutes to tell her my plans, even pulling up a picture of my new living arrangements on my phone.
“Yes, ma’am.” My accent thickening on the ma’am like it always did.
I pulled out my keyring, finding the one to the apartment I’d inhabited on the fifth floor and sliding it off the metal clasp, pushing it toward her.
The same feeling that zinged through my blood the moment Mick and I had crossed the Texas state line now settled in my limbs like a dull thrum. This was a new start of sorts. A more realistic one this time around.
She took the key, typed a few things into the computer, and then pulled out an envelope from the drawer with a check inside and handed it to me. “I wish you all the best.”
I gripped the envelope and smiled at her, even though the movement caused the muscles in my face and head to protest from the alcohol last night. “Thank you, Janice. You have a good day, now.”
Folding the envelope into my back pocket, I adjusted my cap as soon as I walked back outside into the sun, its brightness making me squint. The dull throb of an impending headache began to creep up my neck and onto the back of my head, demanding attention.
Fuck, I needed coffee.
Yeah, there were other places in town I could go for some caffeine to alleviate my hangover but, in my opinion, that would be like goin’ to Paris and not goin’ to the Eiffel Tower. Or goin’ to Hershey in Pennsylvania and not havin’ a chocolate bar.
If I needed coffee, then I needed to go to Roasters, and that was all there was to it.
That. And Eve.
Sliding the Jeep into a spot out front, I grabbed a few tabs of Advil from my stocked stash in the glovebox and tried not to flinch when the door chimed to acknowledge my entrance.
Eli stood behind the counter and the pounding in my head dimmed.
“He’s alive.” Even though it was a joke, it wasn’t said with much humor.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled and approached the counter. “I need a large this morning.”
“Long night?” Eli asked as he turned to start grinding fresh beans for my Americano.
“Good night.” Setting the pills on the counter, I pulled out my wallet. “Sorry I didn’t text you back this morning. I had to call Mick and then take care of some stuff with my apartment.”
“Everything okay?” He glanced at me over his shoulder.
“Yeah, just changing things up a bit.” I drummed my fingers on the counter as the espresso machine began to brew the dark liquid.
In spite of my headache and our conversation, I’d been listening for her… expecting Eve to float into the room at any minute with those expressive wide eyes that her glasses only emphasized.
Yeah, she was beautiful, but that’s not what my fascination had sunk its teeth into. It was her open charm, her innocent directness, that was like a fucking drug to a man like me—a man who’d been so easily fooled by poorly crafted lies. Eve was truth in plain sight, and if her expression didn’t tell you what she was thinking, that delicious mouth of hers would.
It was still hard to say whether it was her tongue or the truth on it that tasted sweeter.
“Didn’t expect to see you here this morning,” I grunted, unwilling to admit that I just wanted to know why the hell he was here and Eve wasn’t.
The look he sent me said my question wasn’t as covert as I’d hoped. “Eve opened, but then asked if I could cover for her for a few hours. Said she had something to do.”
My body thrummed. I wanted to know what it was. I wanted to know too much, and it was a problem. So, instead of responding and digging myself a deeper hole, I silently jerked my head in a nod.
Eli set my coffee on the counter, and I immediately tossed back the Advil and reached for the cup to swallow the tabs down. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Gotta run up to Monterey for a few things,” I said vaguely. “And then probably goin’ out climbing.”
There were few things up here that had brought me some peace since we’d moved, and rock climbing was one of them. A lot of it had to do with being outdoors, away from people and alone with myself. I knew I was fucking damaged. I didn’t need to talk to Mick or Eli—or anyone—to find some sort of epiphany. I knew my flaws, and now I just needed the time and space to make peace with them.
“You want company?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m heading out now and stopping on my way back.” Not exactly the truth, but it was close.
“Alright, well, be careful, man. Not sure you’re in the best condition to be climbing today, but I know you won’t let me stop you, so just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I picked up my coffee and headed for the door.
Out of habit, my gaze drifted down the hall to the back of the coffee shop looking for Eve.
She was like the shelter from the storm, tempting me with her sweet truths and intoxicating promises of a forever that would be safe. The problem was that her shelter came too late. The storm had already ravaged me.
Because what’s left to protect when everything you thought you had was destroyed?
I slammed the door to the Wrangler and a few minutes later, I was pulling out of Carmel and driving north to pick up my new home, the one I’d been waiting for for months. One that would follow me wherever I needed to go to escape the shadows of my past.
Fucking perfect.
My toes dug into the cool sand, the cold water dripping from my hair that I’d let down onto my shoulders, as I looked around the cove.
This was everything I needed.
A few weeks ago, I’d been at one of the local public beaches just up the road that had some good climbing spots along the periphery. Searching for a steeper grade, I’d wandered down a sandy trail into this cove completely by accident. At first glance, it appeared enclosed by a rock wall that curved back before trailing out slightly in the center, and then drifting back again, almost like number three; it semi-divided the cove into two parts.
The gray stone walls weren’t nearly as high as the ones along the well-traveled Big Sur coast that was a few miles south from here, but of the same type. The only access came from the trail I’d taken and at the far end where the walkable sand narrowed with the tide, possibly even closing it off completely; but when accessible, the path could lead back over to Carmel’s main beach area.
Even though it was close to a lot of things, it was hidden in plain sight. I’d been here at least twice a week since then, and I’d never seen another soul… which is why I wasn’t too concerned about stripping naked after an intense climbing session and dousing myself in the cold ocean.
But while this solitude was ideal, it was what sat in front of me that took the cake.
My Jeep. And my new home.
The security deposit I’d gotten back from my last apartment had gone right into the hands of the salesman up in Monterey this afternoon for my haze gray Tepui roof-top tent.
I’d reserved the Ruggedized Kukenam Three over a month ago after a quick repair job had taken Mick and me to the home of an avid camper who had a similar set-up attached to his Land Rover. I’d taken one look at the mobile home and knew it was what I wanted—what I needed.
My home needed to be transient. Moveable, yet fleeting. Easy to put down and pick up. It needed to be comfortable and sturdy in its impermanence, never getting too attached to its surroundings.
Just like my future. Just like me.
I needed to let go of the last vestiges of the kind of life I’d always imagined—a wife, a family, a house that I’d built with my own two hands… I needed to be content and steadfast in my necessary solitude.
After several weeks of research and visits to every outdoor-gear shop within a fifty-mile radius, I’d found the perfect model to fit my needs and my car, and it was just a matter of waiting for my lease to finally be up.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared at the portable home attached to the roof of my Wrangler. The thick gray canvas material of the tent was heavier than most ground-based tents on the market. It had only taken minutes to set up the eight-foot by four-and-a-half-foot living space that was more than enough room for me.
The tent had large screened side windows that looked out over the ocean from where my Jeep was parked on the sand, the ladder dropping down from the entrance to the sandy base by the back tire; the telescoping ladder was one of the reasons I’d bought the more expensive model otherwise I would’ve needed an extension for the way the Jeep was lifted.
I’d put the rainfly on because they were calling for some showers tonight, but tomorrow I was hoping it would be clear enough for me to take advantage of the Skypanels in the roof of the tent and check out the stars.
The fact that the foam mattress was ridiculously comfortable for a fucking tent that attached to the roof of my car was an added plus I hadn’t expected.
I was eliminating my footprint. Getting by with just what I needed, plus whiskey, and tossing the rest of my income into savings. What I’d do with that money, I had no idea. Maybe give it to my brother. My sister. My parents. Maybe I’d donate it when it became even more sizable. I had no clue. All I knew was I didn’t need it.
I didn’t need much of anything.
And I definitely didn’t need anyone.
I sighed heavily into the ocean breeze, ignoring the way every inch of my skin pricked alert at the chill, and then had to laugh.
There I was, standing butt-ass naked on the fuckin’ coast of California, planning on living in a car-top tent. Two years ago, I would’ve laughed at the notion that I’d be distancing myself from my brother, drifting between work weeks and one-night stands, rock climbing, and drinking far more than I should.
But two years ago, I also would’ve laughed at the notion that my fiancé would’ve betrayed me the way she did.
My body hardened with hot anger. I needed to forget the man I was and the life I’d been so infatuated with living because it had blinded and then destroyed me.
They say a wise man builds his house on the rock and a foolish one on the sand.
I smirked at my new house parked on the sand.
I was a foolish man.
But maybe this foolish man didn’t have a choice. Maybe this foolish man knew that even on the rock, his house couldn’t be saved. Better that it not be built to last rather than have the stony promise of forever be unexpectedly shattered out from underneath him once more.