Falling for Fate (5 page)

Melissa and Trevor. Trevor and Melissa. Fucking.

And it hadn’t looked like an awkward first time to her. It had looked like they were well versed in pleasuring each other.

“That was the last time,”
Trevor had said.

A pained cry escaped her. The last time—as in the alleged end of an ongoing affair.

A cool ocean breeze washed over her, and as much as Fate hated to admit it—even silently—the thought was there.

She could walk out into the black water and disappear. Leave behind the nightmare she’d just lived through, the questions, and the aftermath. God, the looks on all of their faces was enough to make her seriously contemplate it.

It would be so easy to just give up. Fate wondered what she’d done to deserve this. Without Trevor, she had next to nothing. Her car was gone. The apartment she was going to live in was his. The family that made dinner and celebrated together on the holidays, all of it—that was all gone.

But Fate still had her mom, and imagining the look on her mom’s face when and if Fate’s lifeless body washed up was enough to make her take a step back.

But if you don’t forgive him, he won’t pay for her medical care, and next time, she might actually be dead on that couch.

She didn’t know whose voice it was announcing the painful reminder in her head, but it was right.

Trevor had taken everything away. He’d stripped her bare of the person she’d once been and recreated her as a young woman who followed the rules of high-class society. Once upon a time, she’d been a girl who followed her heart.

Acrimonious indignation replaced her grief, and Fate threw the black Manolos she held straight into the ocean. A scream carried away by the wind escaped her, and she dropped onto the sand and pulled her knees to her chest. A sob threatened, but she held it back. If she started crying now, there would be no stopping.

During her escape, Fate had passed several luxury beach houses. Lights were on, music spilling out of them. People going on with their lives. People whose lives continued on down the tracks they were meant to. Fate felt as if her train had seriously derailed.

What am I going to do?

As she tried to take stock of her life, another cry of despair broke across her shoulders when she came up with nothing substantial. The ocean called to her once more.

She threw up a desperate, silent prayer to whoever was listening.

Please, please send me a sign. Just something so I know that I am still alive and my life is not over.

“C
ome out to get some fresh air, handsome?” the redhead drawled as she stepped through the open patio doorway.

Shannon? Sherry? Shelly? He couldn’t remember.

“Something like that.” Dean took a swig of his Michelob. Whatever her name was, she’d do. For tonight anyway.

He let his eyes skim over her body. The snug, green dress she was wearing was tight in all the right places. He suspected that parts of her had been manufactured overseas, but he didn’t really care either way.

“It’s crazy in there. Keaton said a ‘few friends’ were stopping by.” She laughed loudly. “So whose friend are you?”

Oh, how to answer. He was no one’s “friend.” This was his beach house—well, his and his dad’s. Keaton was his college roommate and the soon-to-be assistant financial advisor at his father’s company. The one Dean was about to be groomed to take over since he’d graduated from NYU a few weeks ago. This was his last summer of freedom. Relaxing at the beach house for a few months then off to the real world.

“I’m not sure I’d say I’m anyone’s
friend
.”

The redhead raised her heavily sculpted eyebrows. “Well, I’m always in the market for a new friend or two.”

Her lips were full and thick with lipstick several shades darker than her hair. She had the high-priced-escort look about her that he liked in a woman. But something was off tonight. His heart wasn’t really in it. She’d made it too easy by coming to him. Oh well. No use letting a perfectly good piece go to waste.

He was about to tell her that he wasn’t looking for friendship but he’d be happy to take her upstairs and give her the grand tour of the beach house. But something glinted out near the water, distracting him. Moonlight reflected off the hair of a small figure in a dress running down the shoreline.

The last traces of daylight had long since vanished from the sky, she was definitely wearing the wrong clothes for a run, and it wasn’t safe for a woman to be on the beach alone at night. He’d seen more than one story on the news about college co-eds being sexually assaulted or flat-out disappearing.

“Hey,” he said abruptly, setting his beer on a small table on the balcony. “Tell Keaton I went to check on something.” He was already over the ledge and treading sand when he realized he hadn’t even told Red his name. Oh well. Keaton was probably buried in a blonde somewhere anyways.

The figure ahead of him was shrinking by the minute. He picked up the pace, wishing he’d worn running shoes instead of Italian loafers. Thank God he worked out every morning. This woman was seriously moving. As he got closer, he slowed as not to scare the living shit out of her.

She stopped, still oblivious to his approach so far as he could tell, and he jogged close enough to see that her shoulders were shaking slightly. In her left hand, she carried a pair of heels. He was just about to call out and tell her not to freak out when she flung the shoes straight into the ocean.

Okay. That was unexpected.

She let out a scream that she probably thought was ferocious but reminded him of a kitten impersonating a lion. He watched as she dropped down into the sand and pulled her knees to her chest.

Shit. This woman was obviously not having a good night. And he’d come out here to do what? He glanced behind him. As dark as it was, he could still see the lights from his beach house. She probably wasn’t in any immediate danger if he decided to just leave her alone. But there was something about her. Something broken and lost. It called to him as she stared at the ocean, the waves dancing enticingly in their direction. Approaching and receding. Giving and taking. He’d never felt such a powerful draw to a woman. Hell, to anyone.

He stepped closer. “Hey, um, I’m no expert, but you look like you could use a drink.”

She startled like he’d expected her to. After jumping to her feet, she began to back away like a frightened animal.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He smiled what he hoped wasn’t a creeper leer. “That’s my beach house,” he said, pointing to the lights in the distance. “I saw you and, uh, it’s not really safe out here at night. For a woman. Alone.” Jesus, he sounded like the police. “I mean, I was just going to see if you needed a ride somewhere or whatever. I could walk you to wherever you’re going, make sure you got there safe and all.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and waited for her to tell him to fuck off.

Surprisingly, she didn’t.

Moist eyes a color he couldn’t immediately identify stared up at him, drawing him downward as if he were being pulled into the ocean next to them. Her creamy, bronze skin begged to be touched. When she smiled, two tiny dimples formed at either side of her perfect mouth. His dick knocked on the zipper of his jeans.

Hey, buddy. Invite her back to the beach house please and thank you.

She sniffled and wiped the remnants of tears from her eyes. “Um, that’s really sweet of you. Provided you’re not planning to murder me and throw my body in the ocean or something.” Her sexy Southern drawl caught him off guard. Women did not talk like this where he came from.

He forced a laugh, despite the odd buzzing sensation taking over his brain. “Nah. It’s been a long day. I was just going to ask if you wanted to come back to my place and have a drink with some…people, and then I could take you home. Wherever that may be.”

She gifted him a half-grin, but he didn’t miss that she wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture. “Dallas,” she informed him. “Texas.”

Her smooth legs went on forever, and it was everything he could do not to stare. He cleared his throat and focused on her beautiful face instead. “Well, that’s a mighty long drive from here. But I’ve got a car service and a company jet if you need a lift.”
Nice, Maxwell. Way to sound like a cocky fuckwad. Just like dear old dad.

The woman stared openly at him, likely waiting for him to say that he was kidding. He’d bet his brand-new Range Rover on it. Or even his R8.

“No, I’m not kidding, and yes, I’m an arrogant ass. What can you do?”

The chiming sound of her laughter danced into the space between them.

The ocean had always been his favorite sound. Since he was a kid and his parents used to bring him here for vacation, the soft lull was one of the only sounds that brought him peace. Until now.

“Can I ask what brings you to the Hamptons…?” He trailed off, hoping she’d offer her name.

She didn’t. In fact, something dark flashed across her features and she looked at him like she wanted to murder him a little. Maybe he should be the one questioning if he were about to be thrown in the ocean.

She shook her head.

Confusion bothered him. He liked to know what was what. Sort things out. Organize and categorize. She was a puzzle he needed to figure out. But couldn’t.

“Well, then, can I ask if you’re okay? Looked like you were having a rough night.” Far as he knew, women didn’t go around pitching their shoes into the ocean.

She shook her head again and a strand of hair whipped into her face. He reached out to move it, but she moved it first.

He huffed out a breath. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” she said so softly it was a whisper. “There’s nothing anyone can do for me.”

Many years ago, he’d felt the same way on this very beach. His mother had passed away and at fifteen, it had seemed a great deal like the end of the world as he knew it. This mysterious woman carried the same sense of loss and desolation he recalled feeling all those years ago.

“Hey,” he began gently, stepping closer enough to place a hand on the small of her back. “I’m sure that’s not true. There’s always something.”

She stiffened at his touch, but when her face turned toward his, warmth radiated from it. A flash of determined interest flared in her eyes. Eyes he now saw to be nearly as indescribable as ocean water at sunrise—silvery-green with a darker rim around the irises. They were unlike any he’d seen before.

“Are you married?” she asked, stepping closer.

His neck almost snapped from the abrupt subject change. “Married?” His voice rose an octave on the word. “God, no.”

He fought the urge to back up a step. She was coming closer, like she was thinking about taking a bite out of him. For an instant, he wondered if she might be one of those mythical creatures that devoured men. The breeze pulled her thin dress taut against her body and his dick stood at attention.

If she was, he was okay with it.

“Girlfriend?” she asked quietly. One more step and they’d be touching.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. He’d never actually had a
girlfriend
in his life. Just a string of women with a mutual understanding about meeting each other’s needs and moving on.

He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. She looked like she might be plotting physical violence on all mankind. And he’d come out here running after her like an idiot. Ready to be her practice dummy. As fierce as she suddenly was, her eyes still held a certain softness. Hurt. He’d seen it before, though it had never bothered him as much as it did right now. Well, it had once. But he didn’t like to think about that anymore.