Beach Bar Baby by Heidi Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

just fine, until the moment she’d handed him that wad of bills on the dock.
    That was the precise moment he’d lost his grip on reality.
    He’d been snarky and rude, acting as if she’d offered to kick him in the nuts, instead of giving him a forty-dollar tip.
    He accepted tips all the time, to hand over to the kids who crewed the boat. Just the way Sonny had done for him when he was a kid.
    He’d founded his business on the generosity of tourists like May Preston and her husband, who came back every year and always showed their appreciation way above the going rate. But when Ella had done the same, somehow he’d lost it. Instead of seeing her generosity and thoughtfulness for what it was, he’d been thrown back in time to the humiliation of his high-school days and the never-ending stream of dead-end jobs he’d taken on to keep him and his mom afloat. Back then, his teenage pride had taken a hit every time he had to accept a gratuity from people he knew talked trash about his mom behind his back. But he’d brushed that huge chip off his shoulder years ago, or at least he’d thought he had.
    Why the weight of the damn thing had reappeared at that precise moment and soured his final few moments with Ella, he didn’t have a clue, and he didn’t plan to examine it too closely. All that mattered now was that he didn’t blow his second chance with her.
    That she’d come down to The Rum Runner at his suggestion was one hell of a balm to his over-touchy ego. The least he could do now was show her a good time. And given how cute and sexy she looked in those hip-hugger jeans and that skimpy tank it wasn’t exactly going to be a hardship.
    He raked his hand through his hair, trying to grab hold of some of his usual charm with women, and think of how best to engineer his way back into her good graces after acting like such a douche.
    Then he recalled how she’d been moving that lush butt while chatting to Henry, rocking her hips in time to the music. His pal Oggie’s band played the opening sax solo, backed by the manic drum beat, of their best dance track. And he hoped he had his answer.
    ‘You can’t go back to the hotel. Not before you’ve danced to some real Bermuda soca with me.’
    ‘I don’t know...’
    She glanced back at the bar, but he could hear her hesitation.
    ‘Sure you do. It’ll be fun.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and buzzed a quick kiss across her knuckles. ‘You’ve come all this way. And I’ve acted like a jerk. So I owe you.’
    ‘That’s really not necessary.’ She chewed on her bottom lip, the indecision in her voice crucifying him a little more.
    ‘Sure it is. One dance. By way of an apology? That’s all I’m asking.’
    The shy smile was enough to tell him she’d forgiven him. But the sparkle of anticipation was tempered by caution. ‘Okay, I don’t see how one dance could hurt.’
    ‘Awesome.’ He placed his hand on her waist to direct her back into the bar, the spike of lust making his throat go dry when her hip bumped his thigh.
    ‘It may be thirsty work, though,’ she shouted above the bump and grind of drums and bass. ‘Perhaps I should go back and get my Rum Swizzle?’
    ‘Let’s work up a sweat first,’ he said, placing firm hands on her hips as he slotted them both into the packed dancefloor, the sweat already slick on his forehead. ‘I’ll buy you one later.’
    Dancing with her was bound to be really thirsty work, but he didn’t plan to let her have any more Rum Swizzles. Those damn things were lethal, especially on an empty stomach—and with her tiny frame and that little stumble at the bar after only half a glass, he would hazard a guess Ella Radley was a really cheap drunk. He wanted her fully conscious for the rest of the night, so he could enjoy her company—and anything else she wanted to offer him.
    Her perfume—a refreshing mix of citrus and spices—drifted over him as she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and rolled her