I wasn’t here to rekindle anything. Whatever had happened here before was in the past. This summer wasn’t about memories or romance. It was about the project. I was in town to set up the beachfront headquarters. It was all business. The summer was about expansion. Legacy. And this time, I had every intention of staying focused.
No mermaids were going to distract me.
The hired driver waved at us from across the tarmac. The airport staff unloaded our bags and took them to the SUV.
Cody slapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s humid as hell out here.”
We got into the back of the SUV, which felt weird. I liked driving myself but I had zero interest in navigating the San Diego traffic. Riding in back made me feel like a rich guy. Yes, I was wealthy. The drive up the PCH was relaxing despite the traffic. I caught glimpses of the ocean and felt my blood pressure dropping. The Texas ranch was peaceful, but it was work. Alotof work.
The SUV pulled into the driveway of the beach house that used to be one of my favorite places in the world. It all looked the same. The house was stunning. It was in a Mediterranean style that made it stick out among some of the other older style homes up and down the coastline.
I climbed out of the SUV and stared up at the massive house that sprawled across the three-acre property. Two stories. Ten bedrooms and fourteen bathrooms. It had every amenity anyone could want. My parents bought it when I was young and had spent a lot of money renovating it.
“You going to stare at it or go inside?” Cody said, already halfway up the front steps.
“Just taking it in.”
“You’re sentimental. It’s embarrassing. It’s hot. I hope the staff has the AC blasting.”
Staff greeted us at the front door, taking our bags and quickly delivering them to our bedrooms. Cody headed straight for the kitchen. It was well after dinner and he’d been complaining about being hungry since we touched down.
White cabinets, butcher block counters, the row of sea-glass figurines along the window ledge catching the soft glow of the setting sun. The view was worth every penny my parents paid for the place.
I turned away from the window. Cody had the refrigerator open and was leaning into it like a man conducting a serious inventory. “Somebody stocked it. Bless whoever did that.” He straightened up with a Corona in each hand. “Beer?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going for a run.”
He lowered both bottles and looked at me like I’d just told him I was going to take up knitting. “We just got off a plane.”
“I know.”
“A long plane ride.”
“Private jet, Cody. It’s not exactly coach. And that’s exactly why I want to go for a run.”
He set one of the Coronas on the counter and twisted the cap off the other. “You always do this. We get somewhere, and instead of just being there, you go run it out.”
“It helps me think. I love running on the beach. You should join me.”
“I’d rather drive screwdrivers into my eyes. And ears.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Sit down. Have a beer. We’ll go on the back patio and look at the beach. I think that’s far more relaxing.”
“Later.” I was already moving toward the stairs. “Don’t wait on me.”
“Not planning on it,” he called after me.
My room was at the end of the upstairs hall. I pushed the door open. My suitcase was sitting on the low bench. The queen-sized bed was in the same place it had been for probably twenty years.
The model sailboat that I’d built at eleven and never finished painting sat on the bookshelf along with my shell collection and the bits of sea glass I had found over the years. I knew I should probably get rid of all of it, but I guessed I was a sentimental guy. I could remember finding every single shell on that shelf. I had found a lot of them with Summer.
There were a few framed photos of me and my brothers over the years. All of them taken on the beach or sitting in the massive living room downstairs with the ocean visible behind us through the wall of windows that covered that side of the house.
I moved to the window and opened the blinds. My brothers were jealous of my bedroom. I couldn’t count the number of times they tried to get me to trade with them. Like hell. I had an amazing view. And my other window peered into the backyard of the house next door. Not directly into her window or anything creepy but it was a connection.
I looked out at the water. The sun was low, painting everything in soft yellow and orange. I could see people on the beach. Older women powerwalking. There were a few joggers and a guy walking a Great Dane. That’s what I’d been missing.