Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) (6 page)

He is making me nauseous. If he says the ‘L’
word, I’m so outta here.

“Someone to love, someone who’s going to love
you back.”

And… I’m gone.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

I turn to him after I throw the damn bag of ice
that was on my balls on the counter.

“I’m going to go get my suit on, grab a towel,
and go take a nap on the beach. I haven’t slept yet.”

As I make my way to my room, Max yells, “That
chick is still in there. What do you want me to do?”

Shit! I forgot. I’ll let Max have a go at her if
he wants, but first he’s got to go get my stuff out of the
room.

“Go get some from her, dude, but before you do,
grab my swim trunks on the table in there and a towel.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, but heads to the
door anyway. His hand on the knob, he says without looking at me,
“What do you want me to tell her?”

Interesting question, so I just go with the
first thing that pops into my head. “Tell her I had to go on a
secret mission for the C.I.A.”

“C.I.A.?”

“Yea, she thinks I work for them and that I was
just undercover as a cop, trying to solve a case of corruption
among the police force.”

Max scrunches up his lips, thinking of how that
worked, and Porter shakes his head at me, as usual.

“That worked?”

I give him a sly smile.

“She rode my cock outside at the break of dawn,
what do you think?”

He gives an agreeable look, making his own sense
of the whole thing, and makes his way into the room. I wait around
the corner until Max comes out with my stuff. I hear a loud crash
when Max opens the door, and I only see his face.

“Dude, she’s pissed, you better get lost. Here’s
your shit.”

He throws it at me. I’ll just go get changed in
my car. I rush down the hall, with Porter on my tail.

“Cruz, there’s just one more matter we need to
discuss before you take your, um, nap. Harlow still doesn’t know
you are living here, and when she finds out, she’s going to want to
leave. I know her, she won’t stick around.”

I forgot she doesn’t know. Oh, man, she is gonna
be pissed. She’s a feisty one, seems like the littlest of things
sets her off. I don’t really care. I like a challenge. Not that I
plan on revisiting her hotdog highway again, but I’d like to think
it would be fun to get under her skin, try to make her want me
again, then blow her off.

“Listen, P, I paid you a thousand bucks to stay
here this summer. I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you’re
thinking. I have a job here this summer, and possibly permanently,
‘cause God knows I’m not going back home.”

He nods, agreeing with me, but I know he’s not
done with his little tirade.

“You’re right, but I have to tell her. She paid
my aunt too, you know, so if she wants to leave, I have to try to
convince her to stay.It’s only fair, and the two of you will have
to learn to live with it.”

I can live with it, but the question is, can
she?

“Fine, man. I’m okay with it. I won’t give her a
hard time. I won’t even be here a few nights a week, so she won’t
have to deal with me. Sound good?”

I’m not sure he’s convinced. Porter and I are
friends, but he knows what I’m like, and I’m not like Max. Max is
smart. He has brains. He has a bad temper, but he’s not a man-whore
like myself. Yes, I call myself a man-whore. Hello… Proof is in the
pudding. Max doesn’t do the shit I do. He has more self-worth than
me, more to lose. If he says he’s going to do something, he does
it. I can’t keep a promise to save my life, but I’m a loyal friend.
I’ll give myself that. I learned that in the Marines. Stand behind
your fellow brothers., There’s a code of ethics that I’ll carry on
for the rest of my life.

“Cruz, just take it easy on her. The girl has
been through a lot this past year and a half, and she needs a
break.”

That’s interesting. Wonder what that’s all
about. Wait, I don’t care. She kneed me in the gonads.

I salute Porter, and then we hear the subtle
moans of Max and the chick in my room. Good for Max. He needed a
little pink cookie to start off the summer.

I run out, go to my car and make a quick change
so I can get out of that damn house and out of any other trouble I
can get myself into. I lock my car and make my way down the four
blocks to the beach. Between work and working my dick out, I’m
exhausted. As soon as I find a nice, sandy place to crash, I’ll be
out of it in no time.

OW! What the fuck! What is that pain shooting
in my leg? I throw the towel off that’s been covering my head and
feel a little confused. How long have I been sleeping? When I open
my eyes and squint into the sun, I see an image standing in front
of me. I can’t make it out, between the brightness of the sun and
the pain traveling through my lower limb, so I quickly scurry
backwards on the sand. That’s when I hear it. The voice of the
ball-kicker.

“What in the hell are you doing here! Of all
places on this beach, you have to camp on my beach block?”

Damn her.

When I adjust my vision and the pain in my calf
begins to subside, I get a look at Harlow Hannum.

In a bikini.

Mercy.

Doesn’t matter, ‘cause this chick has now
injured my nuts and my leg. No freaking way it’s going to happen
again.

“Listen lady, who do you think you are? I’m not
some punching bag you can take out all your sexual frustrations out
on.”

She clenches her fists at her side. I’m well
aware that her long, strawberry blonde hair is blowing around her
like a wind tunnel. I can make out her freckles that are splayed
across her nose. I didn’t notice them last year or this morning. I
like freckles, but this one’s a pain in the ass, so I try to pay no
mind to how cute they are.

“I am not sexually frustrated, you puerile
neanderthal. But why is it that everywhere I am, you are? I thought
I told you to get lost?”

What’s with her and the big words? She sounds
like Max and his big brain.

“I did get lost, Little Miss Mike Tyson. I left
the damn house to get away from you.”

“Me? Get away from me? Of all the asinine
things. I don’t even think you fathom the extent of the things you
have done to me.”

I am who I am. I’m not a revenge kind of guy by
nature, but pushed far enough, I can easily be persuaded.

I inch a little closer to her. Her friends are
by her side, but I lean into her ear so that only she can hear
me.

“Listen, baby, let’s not forget about the things
that you have done to me.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down and
slowly trace my lower lip with the very tip of my tongue.

I can see it, the steam coming out of her ears.
The color in her cheeks is heating up to a nice dark pink, and it’s
not because of the sun. I can really get under her skin, rouse her
up. Drive her absolutely, bat-shit crazy. This is going to be a fun
summer.

Porter and Max make their way down to where we
are and they stand beside me. Boys on one side, girls on the other,
and it looks like a standoff. Shit, the tension is fierce. I like a
little heat. I like a little drama. I’m the king of it.

“Well guys, Miss Hannum here thinks she owns the
beach. I am here just being innocent, trying to take a nap, and my
cojones were trying to rest as well. They’ve been through a war
today thanks to you, baby.”

She seethes at me, despises me, and has a true
distaste for me and my words. She shuts her eyes as tight as she
can, rolling her lips between her teeth. She speaks through them,
not opening her mouth much, but the words are clear.

“I told you, do not call me baby. I am not your
baby. I loathe the word. It makes me ill. I will, however,
apologize for my impetuous assault on your… well, those.” She
motions towards Morty and the boys.

“Fine. I accept. Now I will also apologize for
making you look like a total ass the other night. It wasn’t
professional of me. Truce?” I extend my hand to her, and she is
reluctant to take it, so I repeat my mantra.

“Come on, Harlow. Truce?”

She does take it. I squeeze and allow my fingers
to graze, gently, the top of her hand, which makes her pull away
from my grip, fast. She acts like my hand was on fire. Jeez.

Porter lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes
it.

“Cruz, I’m proud of you man. It’s going to be a
long summer, and I really don’t want any trouble in my parent’s
house, and Willow’s mom will go ballistic if anything happens to
hers. If we all have to live next to each other this summer, we all
have to get along.”

Everyone nods, except for Harlow.

Ha!

She figured it out.

She knows.

Awesome.

Oh, shit. Nevermind.

Her calmness is now replaced with a look of
terror.

“What do you mean, Porter, if we have to live
next to each other? Who? Us, you and Max? Please explain before I
go mad?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Cruz is our roommate.
He’s going to be living in my house with Max and me, and…”

Harlow is grabbing her towel and beach bag,
stuffing the contents that were on her towel into her bag. When
she’s done, she swings the bag over her shoulder and starts to walk
away, fast.

Her friends begin to yell at her to come
back.

Harlow turns and walks back, well, almost
running towards us.

“I’m not living here, Willow, with that, that,
that man-whore.” She motions to me, and I have to agree once
again.

My name is Raphael Patrick Cruz, and I am a
man-whore.

Yes. My middle name is Patrick, my crack-head
mother is a mick. So!

She gets in my face (ohh, how I have a newfound
love for freckles) and gives me a look of pure disgust. Her tone is
quiet, but her delivery is spectacular.

“If you think I’m going to live next door to you
for the next ten weeks, watch you parade around with skanks, listen
to you have sexual encounters with them inside or outside of that
house, and watch you and your caveman mannerisms, I will be put in
a mental institution for the criminally insane, because I will kill
you by the end of summer!”

Yikes, she can scream when she’s angry, and if
memory serves me, when she’s coming too.

Mind… meet gutter.

She takes off and her friends look pissed.
Porter’s cousin, Willow, the crazy one, gets near and starts to
poke my chest.

“Listen here dickwad, you are not going to be
the reason that girl leaves here. She is so deserving of this
summer break. I can’t even give you enough reasons. Just let me
warn you.” She takes my nipple, ouch, and starts to twist it. “If
she leaves, and you don’t try to rectify it, I will cut off your
precious dick and serve it to the fish restaurant up the street,
have them cook it up real nice, then shove it down your throat. You
got me, copper?”

Ow, that hurts, and I’m pretty sure this is not
a threat. Think Cruz, think.

Do the right thing?

Let her rip off my nipple?

Let her cut Morty off my body?

I love Morty, we have been friends since
birth.

Ugh. Doing the right thing sucks. Totally.

“Fine. Ok. I will, but please stop twisting my
nipple.”

She releases me. Points to her eyes with her
index and middle fingers, then at me, like a sign as to I’ll be
watching you. The girls walk away, and I’m left with a bruised
nipple, calf, and balls.

Life’s not fair.

“Guess I better go apologize.” The guys nod to
me.

I hate being a grown up. It sucks.

***

By the time I reach the house and make it to
the girls’ sliding glass door, I’m really re-thinking this whole
apology thing. Why should I? Because I tried to have a little fun
with her? It really wasn’t a big deal. I thought it was funny to
see her dance around that street.

My conscience is battling with me, the angel on
one shoulder, the devil on the other. The devil usually wins, but
I’m seriously afraid of Willow. I’m pretty sure she means business,
so I guess in this case, the angel is defeating my horn-clad
friend. I just need to figure out how to give Harlow a reason not
to leave, and I really have no idea how I’m going to pull this off.
I’ve never had to apologize, admit I’m wrong, or at least be wrong.
I’m close to perfection in my eyes. I need to stay here, do good at
this rent-a-cop job so maybe I can get a full-time position with
the force.

After chickening out about two or three times, I
gently knock on the door. Willow comes to the door, opens it
gently, and motions for me to come in. I follow her as she gives me
the death glare.

“Where is she?” I say quietly.

“Packing, what do you think she’s doing?”