Welcome to Paradise: Welcome to Paradise, Book 1

Dedication

To all the small-towners out there. Hope your town is as scandalous as Paradise…

Chapter One

“So are you going?”

Nate Bishop collected Lexie’s empty beer bottle and tossed it into the empties bin underneath the walnut bar counter. He didn’t bother asking for clarification about the random question she’d hurled his way. Two seconds ago she’d been discussing the editorial she’d penned for this week’s issue of the
Paradise Post
, and as usual, the abrupt change of subject made him want to scratch his head. Lexie did that a lot, launched into conversations she was obviously having in her own head.

“Nate?” she prompted, leaning her dainty elbows on the counter. “Are you just going to ignore me?”

He flashed a grin. “Nope, simply waiting for you to put an end to my confusion.”

“The high school reunion,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know, the one that’s being held in the town square tomorrow night.”

“Oh that. Yeah, I might make an appearance.”

She puffed out a resigned breath. “Can you believe it’s been fifteen years since we graduated? I feel so old.”

Nate had to laugh. At thirty-two, Lexie Price could still pass for a teenager. With her flawless porcelain skin, pale blue eyes and long blonde hair, she was stunning. Didn’t do it for him, though. Their relationship was completely platonic, more brotherly-sisterly than romantic, except for that one drunken kiss several years ago, after which they’d laughed their asses off and decided never to do it again.

Lexie was his best friend. The only female friend in his life, and, despite her occasional snootiness, the one person other than his brothers who he had total trust in. It was hard to make friends in this town. The older residents still assumed Nate was the same bad apple his father had been. Still whispered about his mother behind her back only to paste fake smiles on their faces when Della Bishop ventured out of her house. The ones Nate’s age weren’t bad, though most of the women tried to lure him into bed, even the married ones.

In spite of all that, he had no desire to leave Paradise. It was his home, and no matter how judgmental and nosy the residents could be, he liked small-town life. He’d been running his father’s bar, Bishop’s Corner, ever since the old man passed away ten years ago, and the rambling cabin his brother Owen had built for him was comfortable and isolated enough that it suited him to perfection.

“Do you think
she’ll
show up?”

Lexie’s somewhat harsh tone told Nate precisely who
she
was. He’d been wondering the same thing since the reunion invitation showed up in his mailbox, and each time the thought entered his head, pain squeezed his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said with a careless shrug.

Lexie, of course, saw right through the casual façade. Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “Do you want her to?”

“I have no opinion on the matter.”

“Liar. You want to see her, don’t you?”

He gave another shrug and focused on wiping the bar counter with a red-and-white-checkered rag.

“She won’t come, you know.” Lexie’s lips tightened in an unladylike scowl. “She’s Ms. Rich and Famous now. Her ego won’t fit in this town.”

Nate’s spine stiffened. “Hey. No need to be a bitch.”

“Why not? According to Charlotte Hill, I
am
a bitch.”

Nate’s heart promptly began to ache the moment Lexie uttered Charlotte’s name. Damn it. Just hearing it brought an onslaught of memories that he’d tried so valiantly to keep buried all these years.

Was it possible to miss someone you hadn’t seen in fifteen years? She probably wasn’t even the same person. The girl he’d loved—that warm, sassy and sweetly insecure girl—probably didn’t exist anymore. Charlotte hadn’t even looked back after leaving Paradise. Not that he could fault her for that. He’d made sure she had no reason to look back.

“It’s been fifteen years,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t you think it’s time to let go of your resentment?”

Lexie released a heavy sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It just ticks me off when I think about how hard I tried to be her friend and how easily she shot me down.”

“She had it tough, Lex. Tougher than my brothers and I did.”

“You just can’t say a bad word about anyone, can you, Nate?”

He shifted in discomfort. It was funny—people who didn’t know him thought he was a bad boy, the same loud, vulgar hothead his dad had been. But the people closest to him knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. If anything, his family and friends constantly lectured him for being
too
nice.

But when it came to Charlotte, he refused to let Lexie have her way. “It’s true, Lex, and you know it. She didn’t have the best experience with this town. You can’t blame her for thinking of everyone else as the enemy.”

“Maybe, but I can still blame her for abandoning you.”

Lexie sounded oddly protective. Well, maybe not so odd. Somehow in the days since high school, Nate had grown close to the girl everyone viewed as the ice princess. But like Charlotte, Lexie had gotten a bad rap too. It wasn’t her fault she was the daughter of one of the super-wealthy town founders, just like it wasn’t Charlotte’s fault her mother had been a promiscuous woman and a lousy role model.

Still, Lexie didn’t need to protect him, especially since she had no idea what had really gone down between him and Charlotte. He’d never told Lexie the real reason Charlotte left. No point in alienating one of the few people who actually saw his worth and looked past his genetics.

“You don’t have to protect me, Lex. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can,” she mocked. “Look how well you handled the Evelyn situation. I told you from the start that the woman was up to no good.”

Bitterness crawled up his throat. He tamped it down. Fine, so maybe he hadn’t listened to Lexie’s warnings about Evelyn, but when it came to Charlotte, everyone knew that Lexie was far too biased to remain objective.

“It’s in the past,” Nate said with a sigh. “Just forget about it.”

She offered a bemused grin. “And nothing like a high school reunion to make you
forget
the past, huh?”

Nate grinned at the sarcastic note in her voice. “It won’t be so bad.”

“No, of course not. It’ll be fun. Like a root canal. Aren’t those fun?”

With a laugh, he tossed the rag into the sink and rounded the counter. “Let me lock up and then I’ll drive you home.”

“‘The town of Paradise cordially invites you to the Fifteen-Year Reunion of Paradise High’s graduating class of 1995. Let’s laugh, share and reunite!’”

Georgia Lewis set down the hand-printed letterpress invitation and burst out laughing. “Let’s laugh, share and reunite,” she echoed. “Jeez, who wrote this?”

Charlotte Hill reached for the invitation, tracing her index finger over the gold lettering on the expensive off-white paper. “Probably Lexie Price. I heard she runs the newspaper now.”

“Lexie…is that the snooty lawyer or the former cheerleader ice princess?”

“The ice princess. Bree Lockhart is the lawyer.”

“But we don’t like either of them, right?”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh. For some reason, her young assistant was fascinated by Charlotte’s past. Barely out of college, Georgia had been working with her for three years and loved hearing about her famous boss’s early days in Paradise, no matter how dark the stories tended to get. Confiding in Georgia was easy—the twenty-two-year-old was a great listener—and it was nice having someone to talk to, even if she was technically paying Georgia to be at her side. Charlotte had told the other woman countless stories about Paradise and its citizens. Lexie Price, Bree Lockhart, the other kids at school who used to ostracize her, Nate…

Charlotte quickly banished the thought of Nate Bishop from her mind.

“We’re indifferent to them,” she corrected with a wry smile.

“But they made your life a living hell. There’s nothing wrong with holding a grudge.”

She had to grin. “Remind me never to cross you.”

With a thoughtful look, Georgia gestured to the invitation. “So are you going?”

“Nope.”

That one syllable slipped out without any hesitation. Charlotte hadn’t been home in fifteen years, not even to attend her mother’s funeral, and she had no plans to ever return to her hometown. Growing up in Paradise had been pure hell. Why would she ever want to go back there?

She rose from the comfortable brown leather couch and moved toward the huge window that overlooked Manhattan. Her loft boasted endless sixteen-foot ceilings, polished hardwood floors and a view most people would kill for. The main room offered a spacious living area, a shiny black grand piano and her collection of acoustic guitars. The walls held a mixture of contemporary art from local artists and framed photos of her album covers, magazine covers and platinum records. To the left was a state-of-the-art kitchen; to the right, a spiral wrought-iron staircase that led to an enormous sleeping platform and an equally enormous bathroom.

A far cry from the dilapidated two-bedroom house she’d grown up in. Just picturing the broken yellow shutters, overgrown yard and sagging roof made her want to cringe. She wasn’t a materialistic person; if anything, growing up poor had made her all the more grateful for the lifestyle she had now. No, the memory of her childhood home didn’t make her cringe because of its appearance. It was the woman who’d lived there with her, the people who’d turned their noses up at her, the kids who’d thrown eggs at the front door while speeding past on their bikes—
that’s
what caused the cringing.

“You’re rich and famous now, Charlotte.” Georgia’s voice pulled her back to reality. “No one’s going to be a jerk to you if you go. If anything, they’ll apologize and bow at your feet.”

Yeah right. No matter how successful she was now, no matter how many albums she put out or how many sold-out concerts she performed at, the people of Paradise would always view her as the hand-me-down-wearing, born-out-of-wedlock daughter of the town whore.

She didn’t say that aloud, though, merely shrugged instead. “I have no desire to see any of those people. I don’t want or need any of their apologies.” She moved back to the couch and flopped down, suddenly feeling on edge.

“Not even Nate?”

The breath promptly drained from Charlotte’s lungs. “I already told you, I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Georgia’s brown eyes softened. “I know, but I still think you should. Jeez, Charlotte, the guy is ruining your love life.”

A sigh rolled out of her chest. Yep, that about summed it up. Nate Bishop, the guy she hadn’t seen in
fifteen years
, had interfered with every relationship she’d ever had since him. Charlotte wished she hadn’t confessed it to Georgia, but after the painful breakup with Russ, she’d needed someone to talk to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget about Nate. Her first love. Her first lover. His callous parting words had succeeded in making it impossible for her to sleep with another man. When she did, those old feelings of inadequacy reared up like an angry dragon, effectively breathing fire on any chance of ever achieving an actual orgasm.

And when she
was
able to let go of the insecurity and let herself feel desire for a man, like she’d done with Russ, she ended up calling out Nate’s name during her climax.

How fucking healthy was that?

“Have you slept with anyone since Russ?” Georgia asked.

It was an odd question to get from an assistant, but Georgia had become much more than that during the years she’d worked for Charlotte. The music business made it difficult to find anything close to a true friend, one who didn’t want to use her to get ahead, and Charlotte’s friendships had always been surface-level acquaintances until she hired Georgia.

“No,” she confessed, reaching for the wineglass she’d been neglecting for the last hour. Now she chugged it down in one gulp then proceeded to pour herself another glass.

“I think you should.”

“I’ll pass.” Regret squeezed her throat. “God, you should have seen Russ’s face when I said Nate’s name. He was humiliated. What if it happens again with someone else?”

“Fine, then don’t sleep with anyone else. Sleep with the guy whose named you called out.”

She sucked in a shocked gasp. “I’m not sleeping with Nate.”

“Why not?” Georgia reached for the invitation on the glass coffee table. “You’ve got the opportunity right here.”

“I’m not going back there. And I’m not having sex with Nate Bishop, not after what he did to me.”

She promptly ended the conversation by downing some more wine. After a moment, Georgia let it go, changing the subject to Charlotte’s upcoming tour. Though she wasn’t much of a drinker, the talk of the past had brought back unpleasant memories, and Charlotte found herself pouring another glass. An hour later, she and Georgia had cranked open a second bottle, and Charlotte felt relaxed and giddy. So much so that when the topic of Nate came up again, she didn’t attempt to stop it.

“I hate him,” she admitted, her cheeks heated from the wine. “But sometimes…sometimes the hate dissolves a little bit and I remember how much I loved him.”