Merry with a Lawman (Love Beach, Holiday Collection)

5. Rebounder Potential

FIVE

REBOUNDER POTENTIAL

BELLE

The idea was better than reality. First, we drove around town, and couldn’t find Davis anywhere, like he’s making himself scarce too, not wanting to be seen by me.

Then, we finally go to the party at the mansion, only it’s full of all the stuffy people we know, the rich snobs of this small town. The ones we nod to and try to understand their lifestyle while the rest of us in this beach town get by with way less.

We smile at them; they smile at us. I’ve even dated a few of their sons over the years, but nothing ever serious. There’s always this under current where the two factions of lifestyles tolerate each other.

The town can’t survive without their money or the tourists, unfortunately. While they need us locals to run things and work, to serve them drinks or dinners, to keep their mansions clean and safe. I may be just a level above other townies, since I work in physical therapy and many of these rich people are my clients, helping them work through tennis elbow and the like.

Of course, Beau and Jackson’s grandparents are wealthy, but they are also the most kind and down-to-earth people I know. Probably many of these people at the party are also nice, but it’s hard to set aside the local biases entirely.

After a while, I get bored while Gigi is busy grilling one lawyer about a recent case, so I drift down the lengthy hall toward the rich wooden wine cellar. Word had spread around the party that the owner opened his entire house; we were welcome to walk through it all, although I haven’t yet met the man of the hour.

The house has been updated since I last was here; back in the eighth grade, my father knew the former owners, and they needed someone to watch their grandkids for a night. He volunteered Gigi and I. At that time, the home was filled with floral prints everywhere. Now, it holds a more rustic, yet modern, and definitely masculine undertone in furnishings and wall coverings.

Such a big house for a single man, as Gigi mentioned more than once on the way in the car.

A beautiful glass wine cave is set up along one entire wall, lit up enough to see the little silver plaques that name the bottle inside each cubby. I recognize some from a wine connoisseur magazine I used to subscribe to. Growing up, I always thought I’d leave this town and explore the world, and studying wines was one way that allowed me to do it. Learning about the countries producing the vino.

As I got older and decided to study physical therapy, I guess my ties to the town were too strong, holding me back from venturing out further than I needed to.

Or my adoration for a certain man of the law and all my hopes and dreams of us together one day kept me bound here.

Well, no longer I suppose. Maybe I should book a trip to France and get away.

On a dark wooden lacquered bar, a tray sits with an open bottle of Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon from the Bordeaux region in France. Several wine glasses with large bowls and long stems stand at the ready beside it. I pull the cork to my nose and inhale the bold complexities of ripe blackberries and a blend of savory and herbal spices.

Just a little pour into a glass—fuck it. I fill the sucker. After what I’ve been through lately, I deserve it.

I gently swirl the blood red wine, admire it, and hold it to my nose as I learned to do one time at a fancy wine tasting in Charleston. But before I can bring the glass to my lips, I hear someone coming up behind me.

“Well, hello.” A deep voice vibrates the air, shifting the room instantly. I turn to spy a beautiful man, probably ten years my senior. I’ve admired men like him before from afar, but never could really see myself with them, not when I had Davis clouding my vision. “A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be drinking a…rather large glass of expensive wine alone.”

My cheeks probably match the dark hue of the liquid. “Uh, sorry. I guess I took advantage of the owner. I haven’t touched it yet. Do you think I should pour it back in?”

His lips twitch. “Oh, somehow I think the owner will be fine. Hi. I’m said owner. Richardson Malone, the host of tonight’s party.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.

“The new realtor in town?” I swallow hard, mildly turned on, although the shake of his hand doesn’t produce the sparks that Davis and I have. But we don’t have that anymore and that’s the whole point of me being here. To get over him. So stop thinking about him.

“Yes. Mind if I join you for a drink, um…?”

“Belle. Belle Baymont.”

“Well, Ms. Baymont, here.” I get a mild thrill out of him using my name as he hands me a glass. “Pour me the same amount. We’ll empty the bottle and I’ll pull out another. Then we can properly lament together over whatever or whoever it is that made you want to drink such a large glass of wine in the first place.”

I flash a smile at him, appreciative of his understanding.

“Now, let me guess. Man trouble?” He sits two stools away from me, but facing me. I like the crinkles in the corners of his brown eyes. Maturity, in a sexy age gap way. A beautiful man with money paying attention to me for a minute is almost too good to be true.

What’s wrong with him, is my first thought.

“Something like that. Because, as you know, all you men are trouble.” I grin. There. If Gigi were here, she’d applaud my efforts at flirting again.

“Ah, yes, we are. Until you find the right one. Supposedly, they say, that makes all the difference.” He winks. Okay, I could see myself under him, I think. But Davis—Why does my mind choose this exact moment to picture the perfect body of the police officer in the nude , lying in my bed, holding his hand out for me to join him. How I loved riding his stiff cock, the way his hands embraced and squeezed my sides, guiding my pace on him.

“What do you do for a living?” Richardson clears his throat and asks, breaking into my thoughts because I’ve probably sat here several seconds too long staring at him while my panties got wet at a memory of my ex-friend-with-benefits guy.

“Oh. Physical therapist.”

“Beautiful, smart, and you help heal people? I’m intrigued. Whoever this fellow is that doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t deserve you.”

Now I’m nervous, at a loss with the way he openly compliments me. And I should never open my mouth when I’m this way. “And what do you do—oh, right, real estate agent?” My cheeks heat again.

“At your service. Would you…be needing my services?”

Would said services include being my rebound man? I ignore the duality of that question, for now. “No, I have a craftsman-style home down on Shell Street I’m perfectly content with.”

“Oh, nice. I’ve admired that street and those houses for some time. I’m hoping to acquire one soon to renovate.” He gets off his stool and steps closer, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his glass. I don’t mind the nearness, his expensive cologne permeating the space. “I might sell million dollar homes, but I like to dabble in remodeling in my spare time. There’s just something about picking up a hammer, turning something old new again. It’s my hobby and keeps me grounded. I didn’t always come from money. And while I’ll fight to keep every penny I’ve earned, I’ll remind myself of my roots as often as I can.”

“I respect that. I’ve lived here all of my life and as a local we hate when people come to town buying up old sites, only to tear them down to make way for the new. Like it tears at the fabric of time and reduces what makes this town charming.”

“Hm.” For a split second, he scowls, but it passes.

“What?”

“You’re pretty amazing, Belle. Why don’t you have that local guy wrapped around your finger?”

I never told him he was local. “I don’t know. But I’m tired of trying. We’re over.”

“Then his loss is my gain.” He steps closer, his knuckles smooth across the back of my hand that has been nervously playing with the hemline of my little black dress. A mild shiver runs down my spine, the kind where you’re sort of attracted and want to know more about someone before you dive right in. “You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. He doesn’t look at me with doubts and fears. But confident and cocky, nothing holding him back from pursuing me. This is different. A pleasant change.

But what about Davis…

“Yes, I’d love to.” I rush to answer. Because I’m trying to leave the past behind. Opening myself up to whatever this sophisticated man offers.

“Wonderful.” He sticks out his elbow. “Can I convince you to walk with me through the party? I could use a little help and since you grew up here, maybe you could tell me who these people are? Give me all the local inside scoop?”

A laugh breaks out of me. “Well, my sister Gigi works for the paper. She’s usually the one with all the scoops.”

His brows raise. “I’m not interested in Gigi. I only want you.”

Fuck. He takes my breath away with that one. Why can’t this man’s words be coming out of Davis’ mouth? I hook my hand in his elbow so fast.

He parades me through the party, working our way into the crowd. He proudly keeps me by his side, listening to my stories about people, almost showing me off. When some men get too close, his hand possessively touches the small of my back. He makes sure I have a fresh drink at all times, and he’s attentive.

I catch Gigi’s eye across the room and she wiggles her brows, nodding her approval, all as if to say I told you so. Not that I need it, but I don’t know. She might be right; I need to let go of Davis and try someone new. Richardson could prove a wonderful rebounder.