Resisting Love

Leanne stood in front of the floor length mirror in her bedroom and smoothed down the bright sundress she wore. It was yellow with large sunflowers, a farewell gift from her mother when Leanne had headed to LA. Even though she was only supposed to be gone for a three-month apprenticeship, her mom had insisted it would give Leanne something to remember home by. It had only taken an airplane ride for Leanne to realize how much she would need it.

On her first day in LA, Leanne had been so overwhelmed by all of the people, and noise, and the chaotic nature of the city, her nerves hadn’t let up, telling her she didn’t belong there and making her question her decision to accept the prestigious position she had been selected for.

Leanne had changed into the sundress, needing a little bit of home, and courage, before leaving to meet her mentor, the famous screenwriter Frederick Alberheist. She had been mistaken, thinking the dress would give her what she lacked. Before he ever learned her name, Frederick Alberheist had made it very clear what he thought of Leanne’s attire. He had told Leanne that if she wanted people to take her seriously, she needed to play the part. And that did not include sundresses.

When she had returned to her apartment, the dress had been shoved to the back of a drawer. And it had sat there, crumpled for the past two years.

But tonight was different.

She swished from side to side, watching the dress in the mirror. Seeing herself as she was, without the glittery dresses and heavy makeup she’d learned to live with, she missed her mom, and her home in Starlight Ridge. The beach-side bonfires and nosy neighbors, where everyone knew everything about everyone else, because they weren’t just a town. They were a community. Who cared for one another. And at that moment, like many moments since she’d left Starlight Ridge, she missed Isaac, her boyfriend. Or, ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t completely sure what he was, considering they had never officially broke up. They just—stopped talking. She still didn’t know how three months had turned into two years.

Most of all, she missed recognizing the woman in the mirror—the woman she used to be.

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie. Leanne tilted her chin, making sure her eyeliner hadn’t smudged, before moving quickly to let Frederick in. He was right on time, like always. And she wasn’t ready. As usual.

She plastered on a smile and swung the door open. “Hi,” she said. “Come on in, I just need to grab my sandals.”

Please don’t say anything about the dress.

Frederick walked in, towering over Leanne, his gait smooth, his neatly pressed suit hardly moving. To top it all off, his graying hair was smoothed down in a way that made him look like a slimy gangster from a Frank Sinatra movie. Of course, Leanne would never tell him this. Frederick had taken her under his wing as an apprentice and introduced her to a world she had only dreamed of. And becoming a successful screenwriter had been all she had dreamed about since she was a child. When she had been in the second grade, it had been like a veil had lifted, and she’d realized that there were people that existed behind the camera of her favorite movies—that the actors and actresses were only the smoke and mirrors to what was really going on. From that moment on, she knew she wanted to be a part of it.

And Frederick had taken a chance on her—given her everything. Of course, he never stopped reminding her of it, particularly when she wasn’t living up to his expectations. It was how he got her to work harder. Even now, she could tell from his expression that she’d disappointed him, once again. His gaze roamed over Leanne. “You can’t wear that.” He didn’t need to say more for Leanne to understand that he wasn’t asking her to change—he was telling her to.

“You said it was a backyard barbecue,” Leanne dared to protest.

Frederick leaned down so they were at eye level. “Eli Hunt’s backyard is bigger than your entire town. Haven’t you learned yet that you aren’t playing in the kiddie pool anymore?”

“E-Eli Hunt?” Leanne should have realized that Frederick wouldn’t invite her along unless he thought it could further her connections. And Eli Hunt was definitely a connection worth having. Not only was he one of the hottest names in Hollywood, but there were also rumors that he was wanting to start producing his own films. And he was going to need a screenwriter.

Frederick smirked, like he knew he had just won. He straightened back up. “And you can bet that he won’t be the only one worth getting to know at this little barbecue.”

“You should have told me who had invited you,” Leanne called over her shoulder as she hurried into the other room to change.

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Frederick said. “I thought you knew me well enough by now.”

Leanne did know him, or at least the version of him that he wanted her to see. Which was why the fact that she was now changing her clothes to please him, yet again, wasn’t at all surprising. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret as the dress fell to the floor and she reached into her closet for one that was a pale pink. She’d had to save her paychecks for six months so she could wear it to a charity auction. At least she’d get a second wearing out of it.

But she couldn’t bring herself to put it on. The silky fabric slipped through her fingers and it fell to the floor, next to the sundress. A deep longing punched her in the stomach, causing her to collapse onto the bed. This wasn’t her. None of it. She had no idea where she’d taken the turn that led her so far from where she wanted to be, and she wondered if it was even possible to find her way back.

“Are you about done?” Frederick asked from the living room. “I know there’s a saying about being fashionably late, but if you want a chance to talk to Eli before everyone else arrives, we need to—” He poked his head around the door frame and his words faltered. “What are you doing?”

Leanne knew the scene before him must be pathetic, her clothes on the floor, and her crumpled up on the bed in nothing but her bra and underwear. But she felt so miserable, she didn’t even try to cover up. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I can’t keep pretending I’m someone I’m not.”

Frederick’s complexion darkened to a deep red as he spluttered, trying to find the right words. She’d never seen him speechless before, but she had a feeling that once he figured out what he wanted to say, she wasn’t going to like it much. “I know talent when I see it, and there were two thousand other applications that were garbage before I got to yours. I wouldn’t have wasted my time with you if I didn’t believe it.”

“I know,” Leanne said, her voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Fine. Put on that yellow monstrosity. Just please do it quickly.”

It was Leanne’s turn to be speechless. She just stared.

Frederick rolled his eyes. “I’m not being nice.”

Of course not.

He continued. “If you refuse to believe me when I tell you that that dress should have been burned the day you arrived, maybe some first-hand experience will help you understand. It will be a painful evening, but maybe one that can get us back on track.”

Frederick didn’t wait for a response this time, instead hurrying from the room to allow her to get changed.

Leanne jumped from the bed and pulled the sunflower dress over her head. Frederick thought he would be teaching her a life lesson, but she didn’t believe everyone in Hollywood was as shallow as he liked to make them seem. And tonight, she was going to prove it.

* * * * * *

Leanne held onto Frederick’s arm as he escorted her up a pathway of stone steps. Eli’s house was big, sure, but not as big as Frederick had made it out to be. Or so she thought, until they came around a bend that delivered them into his backyard. She stopped so fast, Frederick jerked backwards.

“Are you trying to make an entrance?” he muttered, annoyance lacing his words.

A few heads had swiveled in their direction and Leanne gave them an apologetic smile. “I thought you had been kidding,” she said softly, so that only Frederick could hear. “I think his backyard really is as big as Starlight Ridge.”

“And do you notice that no one else is wearing sunflowers?” he asked as they resumed walking.

It was true, but they also weren’t wearing anything near as fancy as the pink dress she had been about to wear. “I like my sunflowers,” she said, feeling defiant. She was tired of always saying yes to Frederick and doing what he asked, when he asked it. LA had become a burden, and at the moment, all she wanted was a paper plate filled with meat and potato salad. Something normal.

“Where’s the grill?” Leanne asked, her gaze scanning the expansive lawn. There was a tennis court in the distance, a swimming pool with an accompanying gazebo, and what looked like a maze created out of tall hedges. But no grill.

Frederick released a sigh that said far more than any words could. She was testing his patience. And had been for a while now, if the increasing frequency of those sighs was any indication. “A backyard barbecue doesn’t mean that Eli Hunt is actually going to be standing out here with a spatula and wearing an apron.”

Leanne followed Frederick toward a small group of people gathered on a massive wraparound porch that was as big as her family’s home. As they grew closer, she saw that Eli stood on the edge of the crowd. And he was standing next to a grill. Holding a spatula. And wearing an apron with a picture of his own face on it. “Then what is that?” she asked, pointing. She had to keep herself from laughing when Fredrick’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

He sniffed, like it didn’t prove anything. “Yes, well, Eli has always had a different way of doing things. Thankfully, his wife usually keeps him in line.”

The actor must have heard his name, because his attention snapped in their direction. A grin spread across his face and he handed the spatula off to whoever happened to be standing next to him. “Freddy,” he called as he walked toward them. “Thank you for coming.” He eyed Fredrick’s suit. “You’re looking sharp.”

Leanne held in a snicker, seeing that the famous Eli Hunt was currently wearing a tacky Hawaiian shirt and board shorts. But of course, he could make anything look good.

“I appreciate the invitation,” Frederick said, rather stiffly. Leanne was certain that only Eli could have gotten away with calling the screenwriter, ‘Freddy.’ “This is my apprentice, Leanne Warner,” he said, gesturing toward Leanne.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Eli said, turning his attention to Leanne. “You’re very lucky that you get to learn from one of the most creative minds in Hollywood.”

She knew she was, though she had never been able to figure out how the most emotionally moving movies she’d ever seen could have come out of someone so reserved, critical, and…well…boring. She smiled and gave a small nod of appreciation. “I have been very blessed. And thank you for allowing me to tag along. Your home is beautiful.”

Eli laughed. “Not exactly conducive for small get togethers, but my wife insisted that we shouldn’t settle for anything smaller. I’m pretty sure she has a higher opinion of myself than I do.”

Judging by the apron where Eli’s face was currently smiling at her, Leanne wondered if that was true. After a courtesy laugh, she said, “The only thing you’re missing back here is the ocean.”

That last comment seemed to pique his interest. “A swimming pool, complete with a lazy river, seems like a pretty close second. Besides, we’re close enough that we can visit the ocean whenever we want.”

“Yes, but not close enough to see the colors of the sunset reflected off the water each evening, or to wake up to the salty smell and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. A lazy river can’t replace any of that.” Leanne saw several people gawking in her direction and she realized she’d said too much. But all of the homesickness she’d been feeling lately was crashing down around her, and once she had started reminiscing, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

But, unlike Frederick who looked like he wanted to strangle her, Eli didn’t look angry. “You speak from experience.”

She gave a hesitant nod. “I grew up next to the ocean.”

“Small town?”

“When it’s not tourist season, it’s so small it’s practically invisible.”

Eli gave her an appraising look. “Does this town of yours have a name?”

Leanne didn’t have a chance to respond, because a beautiful woman walked up at that moment and laid a hand on Eli’s shoulder. Her eyes held mistrust. “Honey,” she said, her gaze softening as she turned it on Eli, “you know better than to trust Harris with the steak. He’s so distracted that half of them are burned, and the other half are still raw.”

Eli gave an easy laugh. “I’m sorry dear, I had been distracted myself, and I didn’t pay attention to who I had handed it off to.” He gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before giving Frederick and Leanne an apologetic shrug. “Duty calls.” He moved toward the grill, but then paused and glanced back. “Nice dress, by the way. I like the sunflowers.”

As he moved away, Frederick didn’t give Leanne a chance to say, I told you so. “That proves nothing. Like I said, Eli Hunt is…different.”

Leanne folded her arms and frowned. “Different isn’t bad in a place like this, Freddy.” Her heart stalled. She couldn’t believe she’d dared use Elli’s nickname. And judging by Frederick’s expression, neither could he. His expression darkened and his lips formed a tight line.

“I am Frederick Alberheist, the most sought-after screenwriter in all of Hollywood,” he managed to spit out, his gaze hard. “Just because I took you in, bestowed all of my knowledge and connections upon you, that does not give you the right to toss all respect to the side. In fact, it gives you less right to do so.”

Leanne shrank back. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…that wasn’t my intention.”

“Then what was your intention?” Frederick asked, his presence now seemingly larger than his already large stature. “Because right now I’m wondering if I have wasted years of my time on what…a little small-town girl who thought she had what it took to play with the big kids.” He growled in frustration and stalked off across the lawn. Leanne’s stomach growled, and she looked longingly toward the table of food that had been set up next to the grill, but knew that this would be the worst time she could bring up her hunger.

She quickened her steps to catch up with Frederick, who was still ranting as if she’d been by his side all along. “All of the scripts coming out of Hollywood nowadays are trash. I thought that if I could find just the right person—just the right talent—that maybe when I’m no longer writing for the big screen, I could feel comfortable that someone was here to take my place. That the art of screenwriting would live on.” He tossed a withering glance in her direction. “I’m starting to think I was wrong. Maybe that’s just what Hollywood does. Produces garbage.”

Leanne stopped, not believing he could mean what he was saying. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve stayed up all night, trying to finish screen plays for you. I’ve bought the dresses and gone to the events. I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror anymore.”

“And yet, it has all gone out the window. One evening, and all of that work now means nothing,” Frederick said, pausing as he turned back to face Leanne. “Rather than complement our host on his estate, you tell him it’s not good enough because he didn’t manage to include the ocean. And then wearing that ridiculous dress…”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Leanne practically shouted, mostly to keep her tears from spilling over, though it didn’t seem to make a difference as she felt the moisture making trails down her cheeks. “And I wasn’t insulting him. I was just…it’s not home. No matter how beautiful or expensive it is.”

“And so you thought you’d tell Eli Hunt how much better you are than him.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Leanne said. “I was just a bit homesick is all.”

Frederick shook his head in disgust. “And that small-town attitude of yours will be your undoing.”

“I guess it already has been.”

He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“I’m done here.” Leanne said, glancing away. She needed to break the hold he had on her. “I’m going home.”

“You can’t possibly mean…”

“That I would give up everything that we’ve been working for? Yes. I do.”

Leanne stormed across the grass and past the wraparound porch, not bothering to stop and say good-bye to Eli Hunt. Even the plates filled with burgers and steaks and potato salad wasn’t enough to keep her there a minute longer.

Leanne was returning to Starlight Ridge.

Isaac glanced over his shoulder, while at the same time brushing a strand of wet hair out of his eyes. There it was. Finally. But the wait was worth it. He could already tell that this wave was going to be the one that he’d end on. And he couldn’t help but notice a couple of bikini clad women watching from the beach. Time to show off for the tourists.

He turned his back on the wave, laid down on his surfboard, and started paddling toward shore. “Come on, Marlin,” he said to his board. His muscles rippled as he pushed himself forward. Not many people knew just how strong he was—how strong he needed to be to surf—considering he almost always wore a wetsuit to protect himself from the bite of the cold ocean water.

Isaac’s attention shifted back to the wave. He could sense it coming closer. Just a moment more and it would be right behind him. When others asked how he knew it was there, he never knew what to tell them. It was just a feeling—an instinct that he’d honed over the years. When you’d been surfing as long as he had, ever since he was a young boy, it became second nature.

Just as he’d predicted, Isaac felt the wave start to lift him and he pushed down on the rails of the board, popping up to his feet in one swift motion. He could feel eyes on him, watching. But the tourists didn’t matter, at least not at the moment. Nothing but this wave mattered. He’d been right. It was a good one.

Isaac stood sideways on the board, crouched in a low position, and he let the wave push him forward. A feeling of euphoria filled his chest—it always did. No matter how big or small the wave, it felt like the first time, every time. This wave was his, but he also knew that it went both ways. One wrong move, one faulty stance, and the water wouldn’t hesitate to crush him. He felt the wave start to drop out from beneath him and he threw his weight forward. As he reached the bottom of the wave, he stepped on the tail of the board and made a swift turn into it.

After a few more turns, the wave dissipated, and he glided into shore, jumping off just as he reached the sand. He grinned and shook the water out of his hair as he picked up Marlin and walked to where he’d left his shoes and towel. Judging by the sun, he figured he had just enough time to walk home and shower before he’d have to be right back on the beach, ready to hang out at the lifeguard station all day. He didn’t mind it as long as he got in his fun first.

Isaac didn’t have a car so he usually just stripped off the wetsuit there on the beach and covered his Speedo with a pair of swimming shorts. Today though, he’d only gotten the top half of the wetsuit off when one of the women who’d been watching him surf, walked up. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends, like they’d dared her to come over.

“Hi,” she said, then giggled as she stole another glance over her shoulder.

Oh no. She was going to be one of those tourists. He hesitated, not really wanting to finish stripping down with her standing right there, but also needing to get home.

Isaac said, “Hi,” but didn’t say more, hoping she’d get the hint that he wasn’t interested in small chat at the moment. She didn’t get the hint.

“I couldn’t help but noticing you surfing out there,” she said. “It was impressive.” And then she giggled again.

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, even though he really wanted to. It wasn’t like he could blame her for taking notice, considering he did tend to surf best when people were watching. An innate part of him enjoyed showing off, getting praise, and all that.

But once Isaac’s feet hit shore, he was over it.

“Thank you,” he said. Then with a pointed look at his wetsuit that was still half-hanging off him, he smiled in a way that he hoped conveyed, Uh, do you mind?

The woman apparently didn’t mind, because she took his smile to mean, I think you’re hot. Please, keep talking to me. Which she did.

At first Isaac nodded, trying to be polite, but this seemed to only encourage her. If he didn’t get going soon, he wouldn’t have time to get all of the way home and back again before his shift was supposed to start. But every time he tried to tell the woman that she’d need to excuse him, that he really did need to get going, she’d talk right over him. Either she couldn’t recognize subtle clues in a conversation, or she chose to ignore them. Eventually Isaac had to forgo any semblance of modesty and strip down as she continued her endless chatter.

He really wished he was the type of guy who didn’t mind the bunching up of board shorts under his wetsuit, especially at moments like these, but the Speedo suit he currently wore was so much more comfortable while surfing. Unfortunately, that meant it was small and tight, and not something he liked to show off. Judging by the shocked, and delighted, expression on the woman’s face as he worked on pulling his legs out of the wetsuit, she was okay with it.

Isaac had one leg out and nearly had the other one free, but he was trying to do it too quickly, and his foot caught, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the sand.

“Oh my gosh, let me help you,” the woman said, hurrying toward him. She was smiling, her arms outstretched, seemingly going in slow motion as she moved in.

Isaac launched himself out of her reach and crab walked backwards, dragging his wetsuit with him. Great. He now had sand in his Speedo and in other unmentionable places, and his wetsuit was going to need a very thorough washing. Usually he could get away with a quick spray down until he had more time to give it the attention it needed.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he said. Even he heard the desperation in his voice.

A low voice from behind him said, “I don’t know that you are.”

Isaac’s head swiveled and he released a sigh of relief. Caleb. The man was a mix between friend and older brother. And Isaac had never been so glad to see him. Isaac stuck a hand out and Caleb grabbed it, pulling him to his feet. Holding onto Caleb’s shoulder for balance, Isaac managed to pull his foot free of the wetsuit. He straightened and pulled his shoulders back, like he wasn’t at all embarrassed to be standing in public, practically naked, with how little his Speedo covered.

“Thank you for the delightful conversation, but I need to get ready for work,” he said to the woman, who had backed up a few steps with Caleb’s sudden appearance. “If you’ll excuse me…” Isaac then marched past her, grabbed his swim trunks that he then pulled over his Speedo, slipped on his flip flops, and then slung his wetsuit and towel over one shoulder. Head held high, he made his across the sand, trying to ignore the cat calls from the poor woman’s friends, and hurried home to his little bungalow.

Isaac groaned as he grabbed the special shampoo he would use to wash the wetsuit, and got to work. He felt bad about the whole encounter, at least a little bit anyway. He hoped he hadn’t scarred the woman. He’d seen the pained expression that had flitted across her face as she’d bent forward to help him. He’d jumped away so quickly at the prospect of her touching him, he didn’t blame her for being hurt by it.

But she had been so…forward. Isaac knew he exuded a confident persona—he did that on purpose—but he wasn’t comfortable with random encounters like that. He didn’t mind chatting with tourists while he was on duty as a lifeguard. He was used to women hitting on him. They would always ask him where he was from as a way to start talking to him, because his dark skin and even darker hair gave them the impression he was from Hawaii or somewhere exotic, rather than that of a small-town boy.

The difference, though, was that he was always sitting above them in his little station, just out of arm’s reach. There was some distance there. And he was always at least wearing board shorts.

After hanging up his wetsuit to dry, and then showering himself, he sprinted back down to the beach, ready to keep tourists from doing anything stupid while in the ocean. Or, he’d at least try. He hadn’t had to save anyone from drowning for a couple of weeks, so that was something. With September just around the corner, the crowds were already starting to thin.

Thankfully, the women from earlier were no longer there. They’d probably leave a nasty online review about how rude the surfers were in Starlight Ridge, and how they’d find a different beach next time. Isaac should care, because tourism was how the small town survived. The few months of summer had to set them up for the entire year. But he was having a hard time being anything but relieved.

Isaac settled into his seat in the lifeguard station, a whistle hanging around his neck. Before he had time to get too comfortable, though, someone said, “That was quite the display you put on earlier.”

Isaac laughed and gave a quick shake of the head. “It would have been more of one if you hadn’t been there.” He looked down at Caleb, whose grin seemed to take up his entire face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Anything for you.”

Isaac knew Caleb meant that, but there was something else in his friend’s tone—something that made his stomach clench up. Isaac was about to receive a lecture.

Caleb walked closer and leaned on the lifeguard station. His gaze settling on the ocean. “I’ll never get used to the view.”

Isaac knew that feeling well. He still got a thrill every time he carried his surfboard across the sand, the sun just starting to wake. In that moment, everything seemed so perfect. All of his anxieties and worries melted away. “You’re preaching to the choir.”

“Am I?” Caleb threw a side glance at Isaac, one eyebrow cocked. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that you were crab walking away from a beautiful woman, one who seemed to be very interested in you. I wondered if maybe you’d gotten too used to the view to notice what was in front of you.”

Yup. Here it was. Isaac was used to Caleb’s speeches.

“I was in a hurry,” he said with a shrug. “I barely got back here in time for my shift.”

Other than an amused snort, Caleb remained quiet, his gaze returning to the rolling waves in front of them.

A few people were beginning to venture out into the cold water, but most were still enjoying the sun from their towels and beach chairs. Isaac had never understood the appeal of lathering creams over their exposed skin, then just lying there, begging the sun to give them cancer.

Some of them seemed to be reading, but Isaac knew it was all a show—part of the mating ritual. They would hold a book open on their lap, usually some high-class literary nonsense, but their minds were far from the words on the pages. He doubted they even knew what the book was about, probably bought it at the airport. Rather than reading the book, their gazes were instead on the other scantily clad tourists as they scoped out who they hoped would stop to strike up a conversation. Because that was what the books were really for—a pick-up line. The reader would see someone approaching, and their gaze would drop to their book. They’d turn the page. After a moment the approaching tourist would say something like, “I’ve been thinking of reading that one. How are you liking it so far?” And so the ritual commenced.

Caleb still hadn’t said anything. Isaac gave his friend a side glance and asked, “Don’t you have a business you’re supposed to be running?”

“Nope.” Caleb smirked. He knew what he was doing—that he was using Isaac’s innate curiosity against him. It was the only way to weasel a little heart-to-heart out of Isaac, and Caleb had figured it out years ago. “My eight o’clock scuba lesson canceled, and Bree can manage on her own for a few minutes.”

“It used to be that you wouldn’t leave your store during the day, even for a five-minute lunch.” That’s right, turn the conversation so they were talking about Caleb instead.

Caleb shifted his weight and stretched his arms above his head, twisting his back as he did it. It was almost as if he wanted to prove to Isaac that he wasn’t in any hurry. “That was before Bree. I’ve changed.”

And for Caleb, it wasn’t just an idle saying. It really was true. His friend was relaxed, happy, and seemed to enjoy life more. Marriage looked good on his friend. But right now, Isaac couldn’t admit any of that. Not until he knew Caleb’s real reason for being on the beach, at his lifeguard station.

“The right someone could change things for you too,” Caleb said.

Oh, it was going to be this speech. Isaac had been on the receiving end of this one a few times already. “I’m sure it could, but I’m still young. I have time.”

“Yeah, you do,” Caleb said. “But…” he released a sigh and finally allowed himself to fully face Isaac. “Even a young guy—especially a young guy—would have been flattered by the attention from a good-looking tourist. And you ran away from her. Literally.”

So. Caleb thought that something was wrong with Isaac. It wouldn’t be the first time. And his friend was right, Isaac was broken, and in more ways than anyone even realized. But not wanting to get involved with a random stranger was the least of his worries. “Look, you’re like family to me,” Isaac said, running a hand through his hair. “You care about me. I get it. But really, you don’t need to be concerned. I get hit on by random women all day long, and I’m just kind of tired of it. That’s all.”

Caleb didn’t seem entirely convinced. He hesitated for a brief second before saying, “It has nothing to do with Leanne?”

His friend might as well have stabbed Isaac in the stomach, then twisted the knife. It wouldn’t have hurt any less. Isaac swallowed hard, willing himself to not say anything he’d regret. “You know better than to bring her up.”

“I know…” His friend took a step back, sensing the danger he’d put himself in by using the one word—the one name—that was off limits. Leanne. “It’s just…if she’s the reason you’re…why you don’t…”

Isaac straightened and gave his friend a hard stare. “Let me be clear. And then you will never bring it up again. That woman has no hold on me. I’m over her. Done. I am master of my own fate, and wherever she is, it has no bearing on me or whether I choose to flirt with a random tourist or crab walk away.” He emphasized his last statement with a glare to make sure that Caleb knew this conversation was over. The man might be akin to an older brother, but even brothers needed to know when they had crossed a line.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Caleb said, his hands held up in surrender. “I know you’re all good.” He forced a smile and a wave before walking away, back toward his store on the boardwalk.

As soon as Caleb’s back was turned, Isaac slumped back against his chair. If only Caleb knew.

Because the fact was that Isaac wasn’t all good. And he wasn’t over Leanne. And he wasn’t master of his own fate. If Leanne ever showed up on the beach again, he’d run toward her, slow motion style, and lift her off her feet. He wouldn’t ask where she’d been, or why she’d stopped answering his calls. None of that would matter. Because she would be back, and she would be with him.

And he’d never let her go. Not again.

At least, that was what he liked to tell himself.

It was easy when there was no chance of testing how his fantasies compared to reality.