Penthouse Prince Page 10

  After tossing the trail mix into the trash, I pack my bag with all the essentials—a fluffy pink towel, sunscreen, and my favorite well-worn paperback I’ve read every summer for the past five years. All the perfect ingredients for a beach day to get my mind off of this whole Lexington situation. I’m going to lay out, reread this fluffy chick-lit book, and get my tan on. This day is going to be a stress-free zone. No Lexington. No drama.

  On my way out the door, I snag my oversized sunglasses, then pile my things into the passenger seat and zoom off toward the beach. It’s a quick drive, and I find the luckiest parking spot right by the ice cream parlor where Lexington and I had our first date all those years ago. Which, of course, has me feeling all types of things about him again.

  Ugh. Maybe if I can go one full hour without this man crossing my mind, I’ll treat myself to a scoop of double-chocolate fudge.

  My flip-flops slap against the sidewalk as I make my way toward the sand, scoping out a little stretch of beach to call my own. But a certain set of familiar broad shoulders and a low, throaty laugh send my stomach bottoming out to my kneecaps.

  You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me.

  He may have his back to me, but there’s no mistaking it. That’s Lexington Dane, sitting smack dab in the center of the beach on a striped green beach towel, his cupped hands scooping sand into the pink plastic pail in Grier’s tiny fist.

  I can’t help the enormous sigh that escapes my lungs. Suddenly, the concept of a stress-free day is a sad, distant memory. So much for my double-chocolate fudge.

  Before I can say screw it to my beach day and bolt back toward my car, Grier spots me, her face splitting with a big, giddy grin. She drops the plastic pail, sending sand spilling all over the towel as she claps her hands together with glee. “Corgi!”

  Well, no turning back now, I guess.

  Lexington follows his daughter’s gaze over his shoulder, pulling his aviator sunglasses off to get a better look. His blue eyes twinkle as a genuinely surprised smile breaks out across his face. “Well, hey there.”

  I wiggle my fingers in a little wave, trying desperately to ignore the giddy feeling buzzing behind my rib cage.

  No, Corrigan. We’re not supposed to be excited to see him.

  Why is my heart not getting the message?

  It takes some serious willpower, but I manage to pull my attention away from Lexington (in a pair of swim trunks, no less) and go back to combing the beach for a tanning spot. Preferably somewhere far in the opposite direction of the adorable daddy-daughter beach day happening in front of me.

  But then I feel a tug on my swimsuit cover-up. Grier has her fist wrapped around the fabric, grinning up at me from behind her teeny-tiny heart-shaped sunglasses. I imagine Lex picking this out for her in a baby boutique and my heart squeezes.

  “Up!” she demands, stretching her arms to the sky. Goodness, she toddled over here fast.

  Of course I comply, scooping her into my arms, because I just can’t say no to this little munchkin. As much as I could use the day off, I can’t pretend like I haven’t missed her and her daddy these past few days.

  “Hi, sweet girl.” I grin down at her, and Grier giggles.

  I head toward Lexington, all the while getting an earful from Grier about the sandcastle they’re building. Although she pronounces it more like san-capple. Part of me hopes she’ll never fully master her words. Her mispronunciations are so freaking adorable.

  “I believe you lost this,” I say, teasing as I lower Grier back onto the towel next to . . .

  Holy smokes. Next to shirtless Lexington. Seeing him from the back was one thing, but from the front? Nothing could have prepared me for this.

  Fuck. The man is gorgeous.

  I can immediately feel the blush creeping across my chest and cheeks, and I pray to God that these giant sunglasses are covering at least part of it. Or maybe I could pass it off as a sunburn or something? Anything that would keep him from knowing that one look at his firm, chiseled pecs has me redder than a summer sunset.

  Sure, I saw him shirtless plenty of times when we dated. During sexy times, yes, but also during normal day-to-day moments. Like when he and my brother would come in from shooting hoops in our driveway, both of them sweaty and smelling worse than a boys’ locker room in June.

  He was toned then, but he was also young. A boy.

  But the Lexington Dane in front of me now is all man. And I mean all man. I literally have to look up at the sky to keep myself from counting his abs. Not that I need to. I know for a fact there are six of them, each chiseled and firm.

  If this is a dad bod, well, sign me the heck up.

  To make this uncomfortable moment even more awkward, Grier decides to chime in with her thoughts on the situation. “Daddy, Corgi so pretty!”

  Oh sweet Jesus. Of all the things she could say right now, did she have to go with that?

  But Lexington just chuckles, ruffling Grier’s windblown hair. “Yeah? I think she looks good in blue too.”

  Wait. Blue? But my cover-up is white.

  I glance down, double-checking that I’m not losing my mind, only to discover that the sunlight is shining through the thin white fabric just right. My little blue bikini—and everything else it doesn’t cover—is fully on display. And by the way Lex clears his throat into his fist and subtly adjusts his swim trunks, I’m thinking he may be enjoying the view quite a lot.

  What. Is. Happening?

  “Grier, honey, why don’t you go fill up the bucket with water?” he says, picking up the pail and handing it over to his daughter. “Wet sand will be better for our sancapple.”

  He shoots me a knowing sidelong glance, and we both have to conceal our laughter. Luckily, the little one doesn’t catch on. She just toddles the short distance to the water, trying and failing again and again to capture the tide in her little pink pail.

  “Sorry that my daughter doesn’t understand the concept of a day off.” He chuckles, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “You, uh, you do look good in blue, though. She wasn’t wrong about that.”

  There’s that blush on my cheeks again. This time it’s accompanied by a quick surge of heat between my thighs.

  Am I seriously getting turned on in public right now? With his daughter a couple of feet away? Pull it together, Corrigan. You are stronger than this.

  “Th-thanks,” I stutter. “And you look good in . . . uh. Not a shirt.”

  What. The. Actual. Heck. Did I just say that? The second the words come out, I feel every drop of blood drain from my face.

  I’m a heartbeat away from bolting back to my car and pretending this whole encounter never happened, but then Lexington’s low, sweet chuckle fills the air. He smiles, pats the spot on the towel next to him, and shifts over to make room for me. And I don’t know what to do other than take a seat. So I do.

  “She’s loving living this close to the beach.” He tips his chin in the direction of his daughter, who is inspecting a seashell in the palm of her hand. “Don’t eat that!”

  At the sound of her daddy’s voice, Grier flings the shell into the water, then grabs her bucket and toddles back our way.

  “You’ll have to take her to Dak’s place sometime. Maybe early in the morning, before the party crowd shows up. I bet she’d love the surfboard bar.”

  Lex nods in agreement, watching as Grier settles back in next to us and returns to working on her sancapple. “Good idea. She’d get a kick out of that.”

  It’s quiet between us for a moment, and I focus on drawing lazy circles in the warm sand with my fingertip. Anything to keep from ogling his half-naked body again. Before long, Lexington cracks the silence wide open with a sentence I totally wasn’t expecting.

  “I mentioned to Dak that I asked you out.”

  I flinch, my brows pushing together into a tight line. “What? Why did you do that?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Because I’m trying to be more honest. Life is too short to keep things from people, yo
u know?”

  My chest tightens at the sadness behind his words. He’s thinking of his mom, I’m sure. No wonder he’s been so seize the day lately, what with asking me out and all.

  “Well? How’d that go?”

  “Not great,” he says with a sigh, his gaze glued on Grier, and I can’t tell if he’s supervising or just trying to avoid eye contact. “He basically said my track record with women is awful, and to stay away from you. So that’s where we’re at.”

  I stifle a laugh. That sounds like Dak, all right. “Suddenly, I’m remembering why we hid the whole us dating thing from him in high school.”

  “Yeah, but we were only kids then. I wouldn’t let his opinion stop me now.” Lex pauses, then finally shifts his gaze toward mine, his blue eyes only bluer against the ocean behind him. “If you were, you know, reconsidering.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how much to say and how much to hold back. If he’s trying to be honest, I suppose I should too. Swallowing the lump of nerves in my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut and come right out and say it.

  “I like you, Lex. I really do. But . . . I have a date this Saturday.”

  He blinks, his brows shooting up his forehead. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. He’s a fifth-grade teacher at my school. He asked me out right before the school year wrapped up.”

  “Oh,” he says again, this time with more disappointment in his tone, maybe even a twinge of jealousy. “Um, I hope it goes well.”

  “Me too,” I say firmly. And I mean it. At least, I think I do.

  This teacher is cute, tall, and great with his students. No, maybe he’s not quite Lexington-level hot, and he’s never made the butterflies in my stomach flap quite the way Lex has. But he’s also never hurt me before. There’s no messy history. A clean, easy start could be just what I need.

  “Daddy, look!”

  Grier’s piercing squeal breaks through our awkward moment, sending both of our heads swiveling in her direction. I couldn’t tell you when or how it got there, but suddenly she’s pulling a big clump of seaweed from out of her swim diaper.

  “I swear, you take your eyes off a two-year-old for one second . . .” Lex grumbles to himself as he pulls his little girl into his arms, taking the seaweed from her tiny fist and flinging it as far away as possible. “Love bug, we don’t put things in our swim diaper. Not seaweed. Not anything.”

  I bite my lip, holding back laughter. Kids never fail to crack me up, especially this little munchkin. I love my first graders, but I think I’m really starting to develop a soft spot for toddlers.

  As I listen to Grier’s babbling while her dad wraps her in a towel, my chest suddenly feels tight. I can’t shake the story of Grier’s mom, how she didn’t feel any connection with her or have any desire to keep her in her life.

  How could anyone not want this sweet little angel? I mean, just look at her. She’s a little blond beach burrito, all snuggled up in that towel, her bright blue eyes blinking curiously at the world around her. Just being around this little girl makes my life brighter.

  It’s one more reason why I can’t get mixed up with her dad. No matter how hard those butterflies in my stomach are flapping their wings, or how insanely hot his dad bod is.

  Because Grier is already one of the highlights of my summer, and if things got messy with her dad, she would end up hurt. She’s already lost out on having her mother in her life. The last thing she needs is a revolving door of women coming in and out of her father’s life.

  14

  * * *

  LEXINGTON

  Normally, I fall asleep in only a few minutes, exhausted by the demands of work and toddler-herding, but tonight I stare into the darkness for what feels like hours. My head is spinning, replaying the day’s events over and over.

  Corrigan’s smile, her body in that swimsuit, the land mines of our conversation about my chat with Dak, the unbearable sexual tension, how natural it felt playing with Grier together . . . and then the bomb Corrigan dropped.

  A date. She’s going out on a date in less than forty-eight hours. And he’s another teacher, a teacher at her school, so they’re sure to have tons in common. Sure to get along just fucking fantastic. Bastard. Who is this asshole, anyway? I should have asked for his name so I could snoop online.

  Abruptly, I sit up. What the hell am I thinking? Of course I shouldn’t have.

  Get a grip. They’re going on one date; it’s not like they’re getting married. And even if they were, I sternly tell myself, she has the right to do whatever the hell she wants. I’m not her boyfriend. She doesn’t have any obligations to me. She’s a grown-ass woman, and I need to act like a grown-ass man.

  He probably isn’t a single dad.

  No, dammit, stop this!

  I’m acting like a lunatic, and if I keep sitting alone in the dark letting all this shit rattle around my mind, I’m going to become one. I need to talk this out with someone who doesn’t have any skin in the game, unlike Mom or Dak. Someone who can commiserate with me and maybe offer some advice.

  I grab my phone and open the group text with Bryce, Lesley, and Devin.

  LEXINGTON: Hey, guys, is anyone still up?

  Surprisingly—or maybe not, given that none of them have kids—it’s only a few minutes before Devin replies.

  You forget all about your big-city friends?

  I type, Sorry I’ve been AWOL for so long, a lot’s happened since I left. I actually wanted to talk about some of it.

  BRYCE: Sure, what’s up?

  I type out my reply. So, do you guys remember Corrigan?

  It’s Lesley who responds first.

  LESLEY: Your old high-school sweetheart? Yeah. Did you run into her?

  I chuckle and decide to come clean. A little more than that . . . I hired her as a nanny.

  DEVIN: OMG, dude, I can’t tell if you’re a genius or a moron.

  His message is accompanied by a cry-laughing emoji.

  BRYCE: You still into her?

  LEXINGTON: Way too much. And even though she’s still mad about how I fucked up our relationship when I left, I’m pretty sure the attraction isn’t one-sided. I’ve definitely caught her checking me out. Like today, when we were at the beach.

  LESLEY: See? I told you there’d be women into the single dad scene.

  I huff out a sigh and start typing again.

  LEXINGTON: But a few nights before that, she said no when I asked her out, and today she said she had a date this weekend, and now I’m losing my shit.

  I shift on the mattress, worried for a second I’ve said too much. But I’ve never had to censor myself around them before, so why start now?

  BRYCE: Spoke too soon, Les.

  LESLEY: How did that come up? Did she just bring it up out of the blue or what?

  LEXINGTON: I said I asked her brother what was going on with her, dating-wise—

  BRYCE: Why the hell would you tell her about that? Or do it at all, actually?

  LEXINGTON: Summarizing makes it sound worse than it was. It seemed like a good idea at the time, just let me finish. So I said her brother didn’t like the idea of us dating, but I didn’t care what he thought, the only important thing was what she thought. And that’s when she told me about the other guy.

  BRYCE: Oof, shot down twice.

  DEVIN: I have one question for you . . . when’s the last time you got laid?

  LEXINGTON: What’s wrong with you? Is my sex life all you ever think about?

  DEVIN: Shut up and listen to me. This is very important. You need to get some post-nut clarity before you make any more decisions about this chick, or else your dick is going to keep calling the shots, and that’ll be bad for everyone involved.

  I snort and shake my head. My friends are idiots, but there’s a kernel of truth to Devin’s advice.

  BRYCE: I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Devin.

  DEVIN: Hey!

  BRYCE: It’s obvious you haven’t been thinking clearly about this situ
ation.

  LESLEY: I get it. It’s confusing that she acts like she wants you and then says she doesn’t or can’t or shouldn’t or whatever. But sometimes we get horny for people who aren’t right for us. And it seems like that’s true for both of you.

  LEXINGTON: Believe me, I know. I know I should try to move on. But I just can’t let her go.

  And I know they’re just trying to be helpful, but this situation, my feelings for Corrigan are not about hormones or being horny.

  BRYCE: You’ve really got it bad, huh?

  LESLEY: I’m sorry this is so rough. I don’t really have any good advice.

  LEXINGTON: No, talking has helped. Thanks, guys . . . I’ll think about it more tomorrow. For now, I’m going to have a glass of whiskey and try again to get some sleep.

  • • •

  “Ooh, it all looks so tasty, I can’t decide,” Mom says, poring over the café’s menu.

  Gail smiles. “Your appetite’s really improved.” The hot, humid breeze ruffles our hair, and she lays one hand on the drink menu so it doesn’t blow away.

  “I’m glad,” I say, part listening, part figuring out what to order for myself and Grier, and part trying to stop her from launching herself out of the high chair at the bear-like dog resting by the next table. “I think this was a good idea.”

  Our original plan for today was to go over to Mom’s place and cook brunch for her, but when we found her feeling great for once, I decided, Fuck it, let’s seize the opportunity. I couldn’t remember the last time Mom and I went to a restaurant together, and I knew we’d never been on a family outing with Grier in the mix.

  Not to mention, I’m painfully aware that Mom doesn’t have many more chances to do nice things like this—the three of us need to make memories together while we can. So even though I’ve spent the last two nights unable to fall asleep until unholy hours, I’m glad we’re putting in the effort.