The Elite: The Complete Series of Boomer and Player (With Bonus) (5 page)

Aaron nodded, and I looked away at the sight of the glazed over look in his eyes. I’d never been very good at comforting people when they were grieving. I’d never experienced the loss of a parent, sibling, or even a grandparent, which made me very lucky, but also completely ill-equipped to deal with other’s suffering.

“Hey, you wanna go grab a beer or something?” I asked. “You can show me the rest of the place later. We got two full weeks to put your fancy simulation software to the test?”

Aaron’s gaze circled back to me and he smiled slightly. “Sure. I got a six pack chilling back at my place, and a couple of steaks for the grill.”

“Let’s get to it, then!”

Aaron led the way back to his house, and we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work at the grill on the expansive deck, with incredible views of the Pacific. The house was built up on a bluff, overlooking the ocean below.

“So, what’s your game plan for the next couple of weeks?” Aaron asked, over a couple of beers, as we stood watch by the BBQ as the steaks sizzled. “I’m up for whatever.”

I shrugged. “There’s been so much going on, that I haven’t thought about it much. I’m cool with as little planning as possible. I’m gonna have a shit ton of decisions to make over this next cruise. I need these two weeks to not think.”

Aaron grinned and leaned in, conspiratorial. “I think we can manage that. We’ll find you a nice little beach bunny to keep you busy.”

“Not a bad plan,” I replied, tipping my beer towards him.

“I’ll drink to that,” Aaron said, clicking our bottles together.

Chapter Five

Holly

“So, this is what Heaven looks like?” I said to Hunter as we took the exit off the 101 for Holiday Cove. The two lane road curved up a subtle hill, winding and weaving, offering spectacular views of the gleaming ocean and beach down below. I tore my eyes off the view and swerved around the next curve. There was a steep drop-off to the left that would get me directly to the beach, but not in the ideal condition. Hunter was in the passenger seat, his head out the window, lapping up the salty air as it whizzed by.

Only once we were descending down to the actual town, did I start to relax, no longer distracted by the cliff-side drive. I followed the lead of my GPS system and quickly found my beach rental. There were three bungalow style houses at the end of a dead end street. Quiet. Secluded. And, most importantly, beach front. There were driftwood signs in front of three parking spaces, and I whipped into the one with my temporary address carved into it.

“This is home,” I told Hunter, double-checking the address on my phone, making sure it matched to the house in the center that was painted a rich navy blue, with off-white shutters and trim. It was perfect. Exactly as I’d imagined from viewing the pictures online when I’d made the reservation.

Hunter gave me a confused look, probably wondering why the car had stopped. “Come on, goofy.” I let myself out and held the driver’s side door open so Hunter could stumble against the dash and jump out. I made a grab for his leash before he hit the ground, knowing it would be a disastrous first day of my vacation if he were to get loose.

The inside of the house was even better than I’d pictured. The French doors off the living room flooded the whole space with natural light, and I could hardly wait to sit out on the back deck, drinking coffee, Kindle in hand, listening to the sounds of the tide.

I sighed deeply, unloading the remainder of the stress that clung to me, and pried myself away from the view long enough to explore the rest of what the house had to offer. There was a fully stocked kitchen, complete with the groceries I’d ordered ahead of time with the concierge service through the property management team.

“God, this is better than my pantry at home.” I marveled at how every detail had been taken care of.

The next stop was the master suite, which was so beautiful I wanted to burst into tears. Fresh white linens, a vintage, shabby chic flavor, with select beach themed accessories that brought the beauty of the ocean into the room, but not in a heavy handed, or kitschy way.

It was sheer perfection.

The bathroom was white tiled with a spa tub underneath a picture window, and I seriously considered stripping down and taking advantage of it right away. Hunter bounded in as I was trying to decide what to do first and within seconds, he’d knocked over the bamboo laundry hamper and sent a container of bath salts flying with the flick of his tail.

“Hunter! Out!” I pointed at the door and stuffed down the tug at my heart when he flashed me his big, blue eyes. “We’ll go for a walk in a minute. I have to clean this up first.”

He scampered back in, lunging for me, and scattered the bath salts even further. I picked him up and deposited him in the hallway before shutting the door long enough to clean up the mess with a damp towel. “Heavens, dog,” I mumbled to myself, polishing the floor for any last specks.

If I had any hope for a nice, relaxing soak, I needed to wear him out first. That was the only bright spot in puppy life. They tired easily and took frequent naps. Which, I already could see, was going to be my salvation if I was to get any down time on my trip.

By the time Hunter and I had wandered up the beach a mile and a half, and back again, we’d both earned a nap. He’d done surprisingly well, and although we’d taken frequent breaks for him to sniff random sea debris, he’d kept a pretty good pace, and on the way back, his lagging pace ensured I’d get at least an hour to myself, without having the constant worry of what he was getting into. He was one tired puppy!

I brushed the sand off of him with a towel when we reached the back door. He hardly put up a protest as I grabbed for each chubby paw and I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and gave him the go-ahead, as I opened the door. He trotted inside and after getting a drink of water, hunkered down on the woven rug in front of the couch.

With Hunter asleep, I crossed to the kitchen and began to bring my vision for dinner to life. I wasn’t much of a chef, mostly because I’d never had the time to learn, but I had a few staple dishes that I could brag about and served whenever I hosted a dinner. In celebration of my first night of vacation, I made homemade lasagna with extra layers of cheese and garlic. Normally, I monitored every morsel that went into my mouth, to avoid the weight gain that often went hand in hand with spending the majority of my days in my office chair. However, I was on vacation and I’d decided—ahead of time—to ditch the diet and live a little.

“Besides,” I said to myself, lowering the heavy pan to the oven. “It’s not like I have anyone to impress.”

I set the timer and went to work on a fresh salad to tide me over until dinner was ready. It was getting late, and I hadn’t eaten anything since my lunch at a diner off the 101 that had suckered me into stopping with the promise of fresh strawberry milkshakes on the roadside sign. I licked my lips, just thinking about the milkshake made me salivate. I tossed two more handfuls of spinach into my salad bowl. A vegetable penance.

Some habits die hard.

Only when I sat down at the reclaimed wood table, did the overwhelming silence hit me. The house was too quiet, even with the windows open to let in the ocean breeze and the sound of the crashing waves. The gentle noise faded to the background all too easily. I set my fork down and went to the media console in the living room. My phone fit the attachment for the sound system and within seconds, I figured out how to get my play list to pipe through the speakers that were scattered throughout the entire house.

“That’s better.” I went back to the table and retrieved my fork. A few bites in, and I became uninspired with my overly ambitious salad. I craned back to look in the kitchen, wondering how long it had been since I’d put the lasagna in the oven to bake. I abandoned my salad and went to check, sighing deeply at the discovery that less than five minutes had passed. I leaned against the opposite counter, watching the timer count down, but that only made it move slower. “Maybe some TV would help…”

Hunter was curled on the rug in front of the TV, and I slid down to the floor to join him, remote in hand. I rested an arm around his warm body, and flicked the music off, and the TV on. The rental was loaded down with channels, thanks to the satellite I’d seen on the roof when I’d been walking back from the beach. However, as I scanned—and re-scanned—through the available shows and TV movies, nothing struck my interest. I tossed the remote aside with a huff.

“This is ridiculous,” I scolded myself, pushing my hair back. “You just need to relax. That’s what this is all about, remember?”

The lasagna still had another hour to go before it would be ready. I pushed off the floor and went to get my phone off of the dock. Rachel should be home from work, and I was sure she’d want to know that I’d made it safely. Maybe we could even do a video chat, and I could give her the tour of the house. I dialed her number and paced the living room while it rang. After a few minutes, her chirpy voice came on instructing me to leave a voicemail. I hung up before the greeting ended and sent a text instead, letting her know I’d arrived and I missed her.

Rachel was part of a large group of friends that all shared a love of the beach and at any given time, a handful of us were bound to have plans somewhere in Newport Beach. We tried to see each other once a week, or once every other week if things were really crazy, and I knew that the nights we weren’t spending together, she was likely out with them. It never bothered me. She was far more social than I was, and loved the nightlife and energy of being in a big group. But, I couldn’t hold back a little seed of jealousy knowing she was out having the time of her life, and I was stuck inside, going stir crazy, on day one of the vacation I’d spent months building up in my mind.

I shook away the dark thought and went back to the kitchen. I just needed to eat something. That was the problem. I was getting all emotional over nothing. I’d been living life at a breakneck pace at work for the past three months. It was probably normal to need a day or two to adjust to a slower, more relaxed, easy going pace.

Right?

I thought about the fantastic bathtub in the upstairs bathroom and mentally calculated how much time I would need to soak away my anxiety. Probably just the same amount of time the lasagna still needed to get melty and bubbly. I smiled, grabbed my wine glass, and headed off upstairs on tiptoes so I wouldn’t disturb the still-sleeping destructo-pup.

“Ahhh, so much better.” I slid into the tub and sighed as the spa quality bath salts started going to work on my tense, tight muscles. My hand flopped over the side, barely holding onto the delicate stemware that held what was left of my glass of wine, most of it had been consumed while the monstrous bathtub filled up.

I woke to the sound of glass shattering. I bolted upright, taking a moment to orient myself. “Oh, shit! No, no, no.” After peeking over the edge and seeing the broken shards of the wine glass, I pressed my eyes closed. “Nicely done, Holly. Less than six hours into your vacation and you already managed to break something…”

By the time I got the bathroom cleared of all the broken glass, Hunter was awake and howling to go outside. I wrapped myself in my floor length bathrobe on my way out of the bedroom, back downstairs where Hunter was pawing at the French doors. “Come on, boy.” I pat my leg and he raced over to get leashed up.

Armed with a plastic bag, we ventured out into the night. Hunter tugged frantically against the leash as soon as we stepped onto the back deck. I raced to keep up with him, one hand pulling the leash to restrain him, the other keeping a firm grip on the sash for my robe. My first day had been a disaster enough without flashing the entire neighborhood.

When I finally managed to drag Hunter off the sand and back into the house, my nose was met with the distinct smell of burnt cheese.

“Mother…” I hurled myself across the house to the kitchen, pried the oven door open, and burst into frustrated tears at the lump of black coated mush that had started as a carefully crafted lasagna. I stuffed oven mitts onto my hands, tore the dish from the oven, and dropped it with a loud thud onto the counter where I’d set out trivets.

I squeezed my eyes closed as I braced against the counter, fighting back frustrated tears. After taking a deep breath, I slid the mitts off, tossed them onto the counter beside the ruined dinner, and flicked off the lights as I trudged out of the kitchen, ready to take my defeated ass to bed. The only thing to do was get a good night sleep and hope that things looked better in the morning.

Chapter Six

Holly

My stomach woke me up promptly the following morning, after going to sleep with nothing in my system. As I stirred, my feet found something warm and solid. I pulled up the covers and smiled at the brown ball of fur huddled under the thin coverlet.

“Hey sleepy, you ready for some breakfast?” I poked Hunter with my toes and laughed when he opened his eyes halfway, his expression dazed and dopey. I dropped the covers, rolled from the bed, and hurried to get ready. On the drive into town the previous afternoon, I’d seen a cute little coffee shop that looked like the perfect place to get breakfast and was eager to try it out.

I leashed Hunter up and started off down the beach, looping back in the direction of the coffee shop. Halfway there, Hunter caught the scent of something and picked up the pace. I laughed when he came to a stop in front of the coffee shop. “Good idea, buddy.” I scratched his ears. The patio off to the side of the shop had a handful of tables, but no occupants. I looped Hunter’s leash around the leg of a chair, pat him on the head, and went inside the shop.

A bell rang when I pushed the door open, and a petite woman with a pixie cut popped into view on the other side of the large pastry case. “Morning!”

“Good morning,” I replied, a slow smile spreading across my face as I breathed in the intoxicating smell of freshly roasted coffee beans, hot bread, and the sweet aroma of powdered sugar. My eyes went wide as I stepped up to the case. “Oh my goodness…”