Chapter 1 – Kiss & Shell

©Annie Charme (unedited)

Shelly

“Hey!” I shout as I dive for the volleyball to protect the turtle nest. Warm sand scratches against my forearms. The green mesh falls from my hand. “No ball games allowed.” 

The volleyball rolls away from the nesting area. My gaze follows the trail it leaves in the sand until it rests against tattooed shins. Rolling onto my back and glancing upwards, I lift my hand to my forehead to block out the sun, giving this man a golden halo. He could be the sun god himself, but he shouldn’t be playing ball games around here. 

“Need a hand there, lass?” 

My ears prick up at the British accent. I haven’t seen him around here before. The sheer ignorance of people on vacation astounds me. We’ve put up signs all along this beach. It’s not that they can’t read, just complete ignorance.

I blink at the dazzling sun. Slowly, his hand comes in to view as he reaches down, offering to help me up. 

“I’m fine.” I bat his hand away and roll onto my side away from the nest, then get on all fours to haul myself up. Being a bigger girl, it isn’t easy getting off the sand, but I’m too mad to care how ungraceful I look. 

With a smirk, he lifts the volleyball and tucks it under his arm while he watches me right myself. His gaze gives me a once-over, and suddenly I’m aware of my t-shirt tied into a knot, exposing my middle. 

Normally, I couldn’t care less what I look like, but his eyes on my bare skin make my palms clammy. I pull the knot out of my oversized t-shirt and let it fall over my denim cut-offs. 

“You’re saving the world, one turtle at a time?” He points to the slogan on my turquoise t-shirt. “How’s that work?”

“It works by reading the signs.” My hand waves up and down the beach at the posts near the nests. “And it works by protecting the nests. Which means no playing with balls in this area.” I dig my fist into my hips. “Unless you want me to kick you in yours.”

A cheeky grin lifts his sun-kissed cheeks. “That could be fun.”

“Finn, come on, what’s taking so long?” Chad Kilmore hollers.

If I wasn’t already rubbed the wrong way, I am now. My nails imprint into my palms at the mere sight of the town bully. 

Finn’s still grinning, which irks me even more than it should. His dark hair falls in front of his blue eyes and he pulls it back, running a hand through the damp strands. I refuse to look down at his inked chest and give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m remotely attracted to him. This guy looks like he already has an ego the size of Magnolia Point. And judging by the company he keeps, he probably has the wallet to match.

“You’re friends with Kilmore?” I hold up my hand and turn around to walk in the opposite direction. “Say less.”

“What was that, turtle Myrtle?” Chad says with a laugh.

I spin around, my hair whipping in front of my face. Anger bubbles in my veins at the use of the nickname I loathe. “Oh, it’s you. I almost didn’t recognise you with your luminous teeth. Those things are brighter than the sun.” I hold my hand above my eyes, feigning blindness. 

“Mate, she has a point,” the volleyball guy, Finn, says, followed by a small laugh. 

Not that I made a mental note of his name or anything. 

Chad closes his mouth. Hopefully, that’s shut him up. 

Finn pats Chad on the shoulder and hands the ball over before bending down to collect the green mesh I dropped in my attempt to smack the ball away from the nest. “I guess you need this for your turtle crusade.”

I glare at him as I snatch the rolled mesh. “Thanks.”

“Come on, leave mutant Myrtle to her turtles. Let’s get back to the game.” 

“No ball games, asswipe. I know it must be hard to read the signs in that tiny brain of yours, so let me help.” I point to the sign and slowly read the words. “No. Ball. Games.”

He laughs in my face. “Myrtle here thinks she owns the beach.” He knocks Finn’s arm with his elbow. “Set her straight, Finn.”

Finn gives me a pained look, his jaw tight as he guides Chad away. “I’ve had enough volleyball, anyway. I’m gonna grab a beer.”

I don’t mean to stare at his back as he walks away. And I certainly don’t mean to study the ink there, what looks like a tree entwined in an intricate pattern. He may not have insulted me directly, but any friend of Chad and his cousin Bentley is an enemy of mine. Even if he has the sexiest British accent I’ve ever heard and the cocky swagger to match.

“Earth to Shelly.” Tasha waves her hand in front of my face. “These nets aren’t gonna fix themselves.”

In a daze, I turn around. The encounter seems like a blur.

Tasha hands me the wooden pegs to secure the mesh over the nest. “Was that Chad Kilmore? Doesn’t he have a job yet?”

I let out a sigh. “Who needs a job when you have Daddy’s money?” 

“True. He must be incredibly bored. You’d think he’d want to do something productive, right?” She wipes the beads of moisture from her forehead and tucks a loose strand of hair into her ball cap. “The team sent me to get you. We’re ready to discuss the fundraiser this weekend and iron out all the details. Everyone’s excited about the kissing auction. Wait till you see the flyers.” She’s so giddy and enthusiastic about this. I couldn’t have picked a better person to organise our annual July fundraiser.  

“Sounds great. Let’s get back to the hut.” The sun beats down on my back, burning through the cotton t-shirt I’m wearing. I squint as I glance back at the British guy sitting on a lounger. He raises the bottle and nods before I turn around in a huff and head towards the beach hut. 

I’m not irked at him as much as I am my body for betraying me. Rich guys are all the same. They only care about themselves. Growing up here my whole life and dealing with his kind has been the bane of my existence.