Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1) (2 page)

“You’re not gonna cut me
any slack, are you?” He wiped his hands on his jeans once more and stuck out
his hand. “Tabor Hunter. Nice to meet you.”

Strange name.

I
stared at his hand for longer than necessary and tried not to let
my curiosity get to me, but it was pointless.

“Dani Miner, teacher.
But you already knew that.” I laughed softly as I stretched out my hand. His
large hand enveloped mine in warmth and I felt a tingle run the length of my
arm and straight to my chest. His fingers were rough, dirty, and in any other
situation I probably would’ve tried to take my hand back as quickly as
possible. But we both lingered a little too long, and by the warm smile on his
face, he’d noticed too.

“So?” he asked,
interrupting my thoughts.

“So what?”

“Are you going to let me
take you out?”

He was still hanging
onto my hand and I fought like hell to quell the screaming girlie hormones that
were going crazy inside me. It was unreasonable to feel that sort of attraction
to someone I’d just met.

Well not completely
unreasonable. He was ridiculously gorgeous, after all. But the attraction
didn’t just have to do with looks, I could admit. It was something else.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Your eyes,” I said.

“My eyes,” he repeated
slowly before finally releasing my hand and crossing his arms over his broad
chest. His muscles strained beneath his T-shirt and he smirked at my request. I
tugged at my lip, waiting.

“No eyes, no date,” I
added, crossing my arms and mimicking his posture.

Tabor exhaled and his
smile faded slightly as he removed his sunglasses.

He cocked his head to
the side and gave a small smile. “Did I pass?”

I tried to keep my face
neutral and impassive as I cleared my throat and fought the urge to giggle. I
was
never
that chick, and yet Barbie
was about to burst from my psyche in the form of twirling my hair and batting
my lashes—like my name was Mandi, and I always dotted my i’s with little
hearts and carried a tiny dog in my oversized Gucci bag.

I was so
that
chick.

My pulse was picking up
pace and I wanted to slap myself. But I couldn’t help it. His hazel eyes were
breathtaking, and by the smug look on his face, he knew the effect he was
having on me.

They’re just eyes,
I told myself
.
Get a grip.

Besides, he’s just a guy.

Just a regular nice guy.

With a rippling chest.

Eyes that a girl could get lost in.

That knows how to change tires.

I wonder what else those hands can do?

He’s hot.

Shit. He’s staring.

“What did you say?”
Tabor asked.

My eyes snapped to his
and I felt my entire body warm.

Shit! Did I say something out loud?

“What?

“You said something.”

“No I didn’t,” I argued,
feeling as if someone cranked the heat up outside.

“Something about hot.”
He grinned knowingly.

I pursed my lips and
tried to hide my grin. “It’s June. In California, Tabor. It shouldn’t be a new
word for you,” I said, fanning myself to help sell the lie.

His gaze wandered down
to my collarbone, toward the apex of my V-neck tee, and back up to my eyes
again. Thank god I really was sweating.

“So?” he asked.

“What?”

“You didn’t say if I
passed.”

“Oh.” I wiped my
forehead. “
That.
” I sighed. “Yeah, I
suppose.” I shrugged, but couldn’t hide my silly grin to save my life.

His smile returned in
full and he looked down, scratching his jaw. With a nod, Tabor reached into his
back pocket and pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

I raised a brow and
laughed. “Really?”

“What?”

“You don’t waste any
time, do you?” I teased. My cheeks flamed, and it had nothing to do with the
heat of the day.

“Right, Ms.
Do I Come Here Often
. You know, I’m
going to need that number so I can take you out,” he said, his voice playful.

I chewed the inside of
my cheek. “Give me your phone.”

After creating a new
contact and adding my number, I handed the phone back to him. He tucked it back
into his pocket before looking at me again. He stared at me as if he was
waiting for me to say or do something.

“Something wrong?” I
asked.

Tabor reached out his
hand, but stopped short of touching my face and pointed. “You have a little
smudge on your cheek.”

“Of course I do,” I
laughed, wiping at the spot. With a roll of my eyes, I mumbled, “Thanks.”

“It was nice meeting
you, Dani,” he said and then lightly kicked at my tire. “Make sure you get that
thing fixed.”

“Isn’t that what you
just did?” I giggled.
Oh God, I’m
giggling.

“It’s just a spare.” He
winked. “It won’t last forever. But you already knew that.”

“Yep.” I saluted and
laughed nervously. “On it.”

“Would you happen to be
free tomorrow?” Tabor asked.

“Can I get back to you?”
I knew I had something going on, but with this man standing in front of me, all
rational thought and memory seemed to be replaced with hormones and adrenaline.

“I’ll text so you have
my number,” he said as he started walking away, “then you can call me when you
know.”

“Hey Tabor,” I called.

He stopped walking and
looked over his shoulder.

“You want the date, you
call me.”

He dug in his pocket,
pulled out his keys, and his laugh went straight to my heart. “Bye, Dani,” he
said, sliding into his SUV.

“See ya.”

I closed the trunk and
watched from the corner of my eye as he sat in his SUV. He didn’t drive off
right away and I realized he was waiting for me to get in my car.

Who is this guy? Saint Tabor?

As I opened my car door,
I looked over and waved before taking my place behind the wheel and closing the
door. He finally drove off and I looked in the rearview mirror to see where he
went, but I was distracted by my reflection and groaned.

Here I thought I’d
glowed in a layer of pixie dust, my wit and charming personality shining
through. But no, I wasn’t that lucky. My forehead had one long black streak
down the middle, and there was the smudge he’d referred to across my right
cheek. I don’t think I’d removed any of it when he’d pointed it out. My faded
lip liner adhered to my top lip only and it wasn’t remotely attractive. I
hadn’t realized that I’d worn a bright pink bra under my white tank that
morning, and my sweat must’ve given Tabor a nice little peepshow, as I was
pretty sure I could even see the lace. I looked like a cross between that chick
from
Mean Girls
and a chimney sweep
from
Mary Poppins
.

“Way to look gross,
Dani,” I muttered, annoyed at my lack of tidiness. Then getting annoyed for
being annoyed.

“He wants to take me
out,” I mused. I was excited. Nervous. Hesitant. And all sorts of giddy.

Damn it.

D A N I

“So lemme guess…he was
hot,” Millie teased, her voice coy over the phone.

Just the mention of
meeting a new guy had my best friend freaking out. I was trying to tell her
about the flat tire and the subsequent handsome stranger that had helped me
out—a.k.a. Hottiegate. Unfortunately, she made it nearly impossible to
talk without interrupting with questions about his ass and whether or not his
feet were bigger—or smaller—than a size eleven.

Granted, it was easier
to focus on Tabor’s hotness than my total geekiness during the entire exchange.
No sense in mentioning my foray into damsel in distress territory or how I
turned into a giant puddle of goo at his feet.

I’d keep those details
to myself. Way too much ammunition for Millie.

“Tell me everything,
Dani. Don’t leave anything out,” Millie demanded and I chuckled, wondering if I
should make her suffer by delaying gratification.

“Well…” I began, taking
my time.

“Ugh! Don’t you dare,
Dani Miner, or I will drive to your house and choke you with a pair of your
yoga pants!”

“Did you just threaten
me with death by Lycra?”

“You’re still stalling!”
she shouted, trying not to laugh.

“You brought it up. I
was clarifying.”

“Are you going to tell
me about the hot guy or not?”

I snickered. “Hmmm. How
much time should I spend describing his incredible forearms? What about his
hazel eyes? Tell me what you want me to start with,” I joked.

“Just start with
something, damn it! I’m dying over here!”

My best friend was a
total gossip, and it had gotten worse when she’d married. She kept me up to
date on people we used to know and the things she saw in her neighborhood. She
once called me at eleven o’clock at night just to tell me that TMZ was
interviewing Joseph Gordon-Levitt. What? I had a thing for him. A short-lived
micro-obsession. Don’t judge. She was one of only a few people who never asked
why, and just got me.

But the way Millie
prattled and rambled was one of the many things I loved about her. All I had to
do was hint at the fact that I’d spoken to a man, and she suddenly had a list
of fifteen questions she needed answered immediately. The smallest things
animated her, and her enthusiasm was contagious.

It was also incredibly
easy to rattle her cage. And being the best friend that I was, I took full
advantage of shaking her up as often as the opportunities presented themselves.

“He was charming,” I
began, “in that whole let-me-help-you-there-pretty-lady way.”

“So did he just walk up
behind you?”

“Yeah. I was trying to
change the tire myself, but I couldn’t get the lug nuts off.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed.

“I’m not lying, I
promise! I’d been there for fifteen minutes before he walked over.”

“It just seems so
cliché, Dani. Meeting a guy while changing a tire. Was it raining? Was ‘In Your
Eyes’ playing in the background?” Millie laughed.

“Shut up,” I grumbled,
but I couldn’t help snickering.

“You’ve never been the
kind of chick to set women’s rights back to the 1940s. You’ve always done
everything yourself. Hell,
you
taught
me
how to change a tire when I first
got my license,” she huffed. “You totally planned this.”

“What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“You saw an opportunity
to score a bronze-bodied, green-eyed Cro-Magnon and you took it. Because
otherwise I’m at a loss how Miss Independent would need
anyone
to help her to do anything.”

“Ah, you found me out.
Didn’t you know? Roadsides are the new meat market. It’s true, I read it last
month in
Cosmo
,” I snipped
sarcastically.

“Huh, I must have missed
that article,” Millie quipped. “And here I thought hanging out in the frozen
food section would be the place to find Cro-Magnon. Guess I was wrong.” We both
laughed. “Seriously though, spill it, Dani. What really happened?”

“I told you. I couldn’t
get the damn lug nuts loose. It was actually quite pathetic. I’m gonna have to
up my gym game, apparently,” I muttered. “He got out to help, but not before
watching me struggle first. He may be hot, but I think he needs to work on the
whole knight in shining armor thing.”

“It’s 2016, Dani. They
don’t wear armor anymore. Prince Alberts are the closest thing they get to
wearing metal. Well, and other obvious means of protection…
Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

“Oh my god, Millie,
don’t start with the porn music. And ewww.”

“
Why hello there, big strapping piece of man, I’d love you to use your
tire iron to loosen my lug nuts
,” she mocked a high pitch voice.

“There was absolutely no
porn music. Or Peter Gabriel. No cheesy rain montage. Just a hot, muscly guy
helping out a woman in need. You know, there are people in this world who do
things out of the kindness of their hearts,” I remarked primly.

“This isn’t 1955, McFly.
Men these days don’t usually fit in that category. The thing between their legs
usually gets in the way of any good intentions,” she professed.

“I’ll be sure to let
your husband know you said that,” I snickered.

“He’s the worst of them
all! He thinks changing the lint trap means the panties are gonna drop—”

“Yuck! I get it, Mil, I
don’t need the visual!” I protested, making a gagging noise.

“Prude,” she snapped.

“Exhibitionist.”

“So does he have a
girlfriend?” she asked, returning to the subject at hand.

“I don’t think so,” I
muttered slowly. “He asked me out so I just assumed not, but I didn’t ask
either.”

“Dani—” she began
but I cut her off. I knew what she was going to say. And I didn’t want to hear
it.

“Sorry Mill, I gotta go,
someone’s calling. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Maybe it’s Mister
I’ve-Gotta-Tool-Just-For-You,” she singsonged. “Tell him that you’ve got some
gears that need lube. Oh, or you could say that you’ve got a place he can put
his spark plug—”

I hung up before she
could say anything else, still laughing at the possibilities. I looked down at
my phone, not recognizing the number on my screen.

“Maybe it is him,” I
told myself. I cleared my throat and tossed my hair over my shoulder as if he
could see me.

“Hello?” I smiled,
expecting to hear his voice.

“Yes. Hello. Is Danielle
Miner available?”

Telemarketer.

I rolled my eyes and
sighed as I hung up the phone, not even waiting to see who was calling and why.
I was disappointed that it wasn’t Tabor. Telling Millie about him had given me
those stupid flutters in the pit of my stomach that I hadn’t realized I missed.

***

“Someday you’ll have one
of these,” Millie gushed as she looked down at her six-month-old baby, Colton.

Millie was almost back
to her size-six self, and the extra curves of motherhood looked good on her.
Her husband Nick had commented that she would look sexy with short hair, so I
was with her when she chopped off her long brown locks and opted for a sassy
pixie cut. I marveled at how much she’d changed, but was still my best friend.

“Whoa there, Mills.
Missing a few steps, hon. And I’m in no rush for rug rats.”

“But you’re so good with
kids,” Millie gushed as I picked up the cutest baby I’d ever seen. He was even
cuter than my niece, Cleo, and that was saying something.

“Only because I’m in
love with this one,” I cooed into Colton’s face. He reached his chubby hands
out to me and I pretended to bite them when he shoved them in my mouth.

It was true: I was great
with kids and they loved me. Mom always said it was a gift, and I believed it.
My sister Grace had been the one who wanted the picket fence, dog running in
the yard, and a
GQ
model for a
husband.

I was always more
practical. Perfection wasn’t my endgame, and I was in no rush to get to the
finish line. I was only twenty-four and I had years before I saw myself settled
down with a ring on my finger. And kids? Yeah, definitely no rush in that
department. I’d hit snooze on my biological clock a dozen times, so ignoring
the telltale signs of a tick-tock was never a problem.

“Did I tell you Nick ran
into Philip at the bar the other night?” Millie asked.

Gossip. Whore.

“You let Nick go to a
bar? Without you?” I asked, feigning shock, intentionally ignoring the mention
of my ex. I’d managed to avoid him since the breakup, and since I kept a lot to
myself, I sidestepped the subject of him as well.

“It was a work thing,”
she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Work, huh?”

“That’s not the point.
He saw Philip and he asked about you!”

“Great.” I rolled my
eyes. “And your point.”

“I don’t think he’s
seeing anyone. And if things don’t work out with tire-guy, maybe you two…”

“Do
not
even finish that thought, Millie. I mean it.” I set Colton back
on the floor and walked into the kitchen, knowing Millie was hot on my tail. I
grabbed a water bottle from her fridge, and when I turned around she was
watching me expectantly.

“He really loved you,
you know.”

“You’re supposed to be
Team Dani.” I set my hands on my hips. “So will you drop it? I haven’t seen or
talked to him in almost a year and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I
am
Team Dani. And I always will be. But is it so wrong for me to
want to see my best friend finally settle down?”

“
Settle
. That’s exactly what I’d be doing if I were still with
Philip. I
settled
for the little time
he was able to spend with me. I
settled
for the way he treated me, as if I wasn’t good enough. I
settled
for a year with him, because he had me convinced he was the
best I’d ever have. But he’s not, and I don’t want to go back.”

“What? What do you mean?
I thought you two were so good together.”

“Yeah, well, looks can
be deceiving,” I reminded her.

“Why didn’t you ever
tell me all of this?”

“Because you and Nick
liked him so much. And you know I’m not good with the whole sharing thing.”

“But I’m your best
friend. We’ve known each other for years—don’t you think this is
something you should have told me?”

“I’ve moved on, and I’m
sure he has too.”

“Maybe he’s changed,”
Millie said timidly. She looked over her shoulder and started fidgeting with
her wedding band. When she wouldn’t make eye contact, I knew something was up.

“What’s wrong?”

She finally looked at
me, guilt written all over her face. “Nothing,” she said quickly before turning
to leave the room.

That time, I did the
following, and stood with my arms crossed over my chest as she picked up
Colton.

“That cute little
Colton-shield isn’t going to protect you,” I warned. “What’s up?”

She started bobbing up
and down as if the baby was crying and I wanted to laugh, but something had her
acting weirder than normal.

“Don’t kill me.” She
flashed a toothy grin.

“Can’t promise that,” I
said, shaking my head slowly. “Speak.”

“I told Nick that you
were coming over today and he should invite Philip over.”

My jaw dropped open and
I stared at her.

“Don’t kill the baby
mama. Don’t kill the baby mama,” I whispered to myself so she could hear. “It’s
not working, Millie, because I really want to strangle you right now.”

“I’ll have Nick call him
as soon as he gets home,” she pleaded. I would have laughed at the panic on her
face had I not been completely livid with her.

“Who am I calling?” Nick
asked as he strolled through the back door.

“Philip. Now,” I
demanded.

“Easy,” he said, raising
his hands in the air. He walked over and kissed Millie and then Colton before
turning back to me.

“Nick DeMarco…you better
call him,” I said as sternly as I could muster.

“Told you she didn’t
want to see the guy, babe,” he said, ignoring the imaginary daggers I was
shooting at him.

“So he’s
not
coming,” I stated, waiting for
confirmation.

“Millie said you met
some guy on the side of the road,” Nick said, ignoring my statement.

“Yeah, had to give up
the corner. Wasn’t making any money there,” I teased. I was certain it was his
way of letting me know I was in the clear.

“Our hooker with a heart
of gold,” he quipped. “Keepin’ it real.”

“You know me.” I
shrugged. “A girl’s gotta do…”

“Whatever her pimp tells
her,” he finished with a laugh. He raised his hand up and I gave him a high five.