On the picturesque island of Martha's Vineyard, there are two kinds of residents. Locals and Stays.
Local boy, Lane McCarthy, plans on spending his summer working at the country club to save money for college in the fall, while summer stay, Ashley Whitmore, and her elite group of friends are only there to play.
As the summer heat goes up on the island, so does the ante, when both Lane and Ashley must decide what they're willing to wager in order to follow their dreams... and their hearts.
With stakes as high as the surf, and hopes as high as the midday sun, will they risk everything and go all in?
Ashley
His head is down as he crosses the private section
of the beach, staying close to the water’s edge but avoiding the moving tide.
“Lane,” I call out over the noise of the party and
the waves, but he doesn’t seem to hear me, so I call his name again, this time
louder. “Hey, Lane.” He glances up and scans the party, squinting before
finally seeing me. A smile flashes across his face. I smile back as I approach
him, my flip flops kicking up sand behind me.
“Hi,” I say. My drink, mostly untouched, sloshes and
spills over the lip of the cup when I stop in front of him.
“Looks like you’re having fun.” He nods at my drink
and then up at the party.
“I actually just got here. I’m glad you came.” I
feel my cheeks heat up, and I’m relieved it’s dark enough that he can’t see. “I
think Andrew’s around here somewhere.” I look over my shoulder to point Lane in
the right direction.
“Ah, no thanks. I think I’ll steer clear of your kind of parties,” he says, shoving
his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts.
“What do you mean my kind of parties?”
“Nothing, never mind.” He kicks at the sand and
looks uncomfortable.
“Oh no.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “Did you get
in trouble last night when the cops showed up?”
“Yeah, thanks to your boyfriend,” he says with a
sneer that makes me take a step back.
My boyfriend?
“I’m not sure what his deal is, but he’s a serious
dick.” Lane’s jaw is tight, and there’s not a hint of joking in his tone.
“Gregory?” I ask wide eyed. Why would he think
Gregory is my boyfriend? I have a flash of Greg and I at lunch together looking
very much like a couple and then again at the bluffs when he gave me his coat,
something a boyfriend would do. Oh.
“He is definitely not my boyfriend,” I say seriously. “He’s my ex, if you can even
call it that. We dated for like a second, but it was never very serious.” Why
am I telling him all this? Stop rambling, Ashley. I dig my toes into the sand.
“But you’re right about one thing. He is a dick.” I give Lane a playful grin
and watch the light from the bonfire bounce off his features as his jaw loosens
and a tentative smile spreads across his face.
From a distance, I hear Gregory’s voice, and when I
glance over my shoulder, he’s stumbling our direction, obviously drunk and
completely uninvited.
“Speak of the devil.” I roll my eyes and that makes
Lane smile bigger.
“The rest of the staff is over there,” Gregory
slurs, pointing to the tent where the cater waiters are busy putting out more
hors d'oeuvres. Lane ignores his snide remark, never taking his eyes off of me.
“It was nice seeing you again, but I gotta go,” Lane
says, and I’m immediately disappointed that he’s leaving.
“Are you sure?” I look down at my feet and try to
garner enough nerve to ask him not to go. “Stay,” I say so softly it comes out
as more of a whisper when I look back up at him.
He peers over his shoulder across the small
peninsula to the lighthouse then back at me. “I’m sorry, I can’t…I…I have to
work.” He looks genuinely disappointed, and I wonder if he knows I am too. “But
hopefully I’ll see you around, okay?” He gives me a smile that makes my knees
go weak before taking off down the beach. In the faint light coming off of the
fire, I see him glance back at me before he cuts across the sandy peninsula and
disappears into the shadows of tall sea grass.
Lane
He’s not her boyfriend.
I shake my head to clear my mind before I steal one
last glance over my shoulder at her as I walk away, but it’s on a loop, and
it’s all I can think. He’s not her boyfriend.
I shake my head again, this time to snap myself out
of it. There’s no way a girl like that would go for a guy like me anyway. Would
she? I shut my eyes and replay the way she looked at me through her long dark
lashes, softly asking me to stay, causing my stomach to knot.
“He’s not her boyfriend,” I say out loud at the door
of the lighthouse. I pull my keys from my pocket as the sounds of the party
float through the otherwise quiet night, and I feel a stupid grin spread across
my face despite the rude remarks I just got from that ass-hat Gregory.
Seriously, when will the ‘help’ jokes get old?
“Let go. You’re hurting me,” a girl yelps from down
the beach. I spin around and from the light coming off the bonfire I can see
Gregory’s hand is wrapped around Ashley’s arm, and she’s wincing in pain.
Without a thought, I drop my keys to the ground and
take off running, reaching them in seconds. “Let her go,” I yell. My fists ball
tight, ready to make him if I have to.
“Mind your own business, loser,” Gregory snarls back
as he jerks Ashley by the arm eliciting another cry.
“Lane,” Ashley says, struggling against his grip,
fear on her face.
I lunge forward and grab Gregory’s arm, yanking him
away from her with a force that surprises even me. “I said Let. Her. Go.”
Ashley falls to the ground when Gregory releases his
hold, rubbing her arm in pain. I kneel down and brush the hair from her face, searching
for any other signs of injury as adrenaline pounds in my veins.
“Are you
okay?”
“I’m fine. I promise,” she says, our eyes locked
with one another. “Thank you.”
“Come to save the damsel in distress,” Gregory says
in a patronizing tone, looking down his nose at me. Convinced Ashley’s alright;
I jump up and face him. He’s poised and ready for a fight, and that makes two
of us. “You do know the peasant doesn’t get the girl, right? The prince does.”
I can’t stop the laugh that comes out of me. “Are
you serious right now?” Who does this guy think he is? “Dude, when a girl’s
screaming to be let go, it’s a pretty good indicator that she doesn’t want you,
prince or not.”
I hear a light snickering from behind me before I
see that a small crowd has gathered around and is watching us intently. I’m
surprised they haven’t all started chanting ‘fight’ by the way they look on
like we’re simply the entertainment for the evening.
“You know
what? She can slum it all she wants with you. She’s nothing but an uptight
frigid tease anyway. Good luck getting into her pants,” Gregory says, wearing
an arrogant smirk, his arms crossed leisurely across his chest like he’s just
landed a fatal blow.
My vision goes red. He’s about to find out exactly
how a real blow feels. To the face.
About the Author :
Marta Brown grew up in the Pacific Northwest and was a teenager when Doc Martens, Pearl Jam and flannel were the norm and Dylan loved Kelly forever (Beverly Hills, 90210 shout out)>
She still lives just outside Seattle, now with her husband and cat, and loves the rain.
When she's not writing about cute boys, first kisses and the magic and wonder of being seventeen, she's watching The CW. And she sleeps in. Late.
Stalk her :
~ Giveaway Time ~
Mysti Parker (pseudonym) is a full time wife, mother
of three, and a writer. Her first novel, A Ranger's Tale was published in
January, 2011 by Melange Books, and the second in the fantasy romance series,
Serenya's Song, was published in April 2012. The highly anticipated third book,
Hearts in Exile, has already received some great reviews. The Tallenmere
series has been likened
to Terry Goodkind's 'Sword of Truth' series, but is
probably closer to a spicy cross between Tolkien and Mercedes Lackey.
