Pretty Buoy (Swallow Cove Book 2), page 1
PRETTY BUOY
SWALLOW COVE
DJ JAMISON
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Get your HEA’s sooner
Also by DJ Jamison
About the Author
Pretty Buoy
By DJ Jamison
Copyright 2024 DJ Jamison
Published by Must Love Books LLC
Cover design by Morningstar Ashley
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return it to Amazon.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Pretty Buoy’s storyline overlaps with Dock Tease so you get the full journey—from Skylar and Brooks’s first meeting—to their beautiful HEA. If you haven’t read Book 1, don’t worry! This story will make perfect sense on its own. If you have, then just be aware we’re going back in time, but it’ll be a trip well worth taking.
I hope you enjoy these two as much as I have!
CHAPTER 1
Skylar
The glare on my windshield made me squint. Too bad I didn’t have my sunglasses—and not only because they’d shade my eyes. I wanted to hide.
It had been three weeks since I’d left my boyfriend and two since I’d been out of my parents’ vacation house in the Ozarks at all.
But I couldn’t tell Dad that when he called to check in. If he knew the truth—even a fraction of it—he’d come charging in and take over my life.
I didn’t want that. Not ever again.
So I told Dad I was fine. Great, even. So great I could check in on his investments while I was here. As predicted, Dad had jumped at the chance to get me more involved in his business.
I flipped down the sun visor and continued driving through the quiet streets of Swallow Cove. Most folks around here traveled by boat, so there was plenty of parking. I swung into an empty spot in front of The Rusty Hook.
It wouldn’t open for another hour. I could have a quick look around and give Dad an update without hassling anyone trying to do their job. Once he saw I was functioning and not hibernating, he’d back off.
And I could go back to licking my wounds.
Because, okay, I had a few. I wasn’t in total denial.
I climbed out of the car, and the slick silky fabric of my underwear shifted on my hip. A reminder that I was my own man. That I was strong.
Blaize hates lingerie on me.
The thought snuck in, making my chest tighten. I took a breath and forced it away.
I didn’t dress for him anymore. I dressed for me.
He no longer had a say in my choices.
I pulled out the set of keys Dad kept at our house, each carefully labeled, and tried to ignore the way they jingled in my shaking hand as I unlocked the front door.
I’d left my boyfriend weeks ago, and thoughts of him still rattled me far too much.
I slipped inside and slumped against the door. Why was it so hard to simply leave the house? I’d never been a social butterfly, but this was ridiculous. It made no sense. Blaize had been an asshole, yes. He’d been too controlling. But the one time he’d put his hands on me in anger, splitting my lip, was the last time he ever got to touch me.
I was almost glad it happened. Because it gave me the wake-up call I’d needed to pack my bags and leave.
Yet here I was, nervous and jumpy and wanting nothing more than to climb back into bed and cuddle with my cat, Freddy. He was the only male I trusted these days—and I included myself in that list.
The pub was blessedly quiet. I wandered between tables made from wooden barrels, ducking lanterns suspended from the ceiling. Boat oars and fishing rods decorated the walls, giving the place a certain lakeside charm.
It was better lit inside than I’d expected, with wide windows on one wall showcasing the lake just behind it. I crossed the room to gaze out at the view. It was beautiful here. Peaceful before all the partiers got out on the lake. There were boats already out there, of course. The anglers headed out early. A few family cruises too. But not so many that the lake was awash in noise just yet.
I soaked in the peace, finally settling in my skin. Maybe leaving the house wasn’t so bad.
“Who the hell are you?”
A deep voice boomed across the room, making me startle.
I gasped and spun around, my hand pressed over my racing heart.
A man emerged from behind the bar. He pulled a shirt over his head of dark brown hair—wet hair—as he stalked toward me. Had he come in from the lake?
He tugged the hem down, covering a scarily broad chest, and crossed his arms, biceps bulging.
I swallowed hard and took a step back.
This man was well over six feet tall, stacked with muscle, and could break me in half. His expression was none too friendly either, a scowl fixed on what would otherwise be a handsome face.
“We’re not open.”
“I know.”
“Freaking tourists,” he muttered. “Look, leave now, and I won’t report you for breaking and entering.”
“What?” I yelped. “I didn’t break in.”
“So, how do you explain being in here? I know I locked up last night.”
He took a step toward me, and I stumbled back, keeping a good six feet between us. He stilled, cocking his head.
“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” he said, his tone a little gentler. “Right?”
Then he took a big step back. Giving me space.
Could he see me shaking? I didn’t want him to know how much he unnerved me.
I drew a breath and straightened my shoulders. Lace pressed into my shoulder blades. Its presence, my tiny rebellion, calmed me.
At last, I found the words to explain.
“I have a key. My family owns this place.”
“You’re an Addison.”
His tone had gone flat, but it was better than the pity that had leaked into it when he sensed my fear. And far better than the anger that had come through when he first discovered me.
“I’m Skylar Addison, yes.” My voice was steady, and my next words came easier. “I was just stopping by to check on our investment property.”
“I see.”
“I thought coming by before the pub was open would be less disruptive…”
He snorted. “What? Don’t want to see your cash cow at work?”
“Um.”
“Stupid question. Why would you want to understand how we operate, or take input from the people who actually work here, right? I’m the bar manager, but I bet you don’t even know my name.”
“No, I’m sorry. What is it?”
He paused, looking thrown. “It’s Brooks, but that’s not the point.”
His name was nice. Calming. Like the water outdoors. Though Brooks himself struck me more like the rapids, all choppy currents.
It should frighten me, but…
He took a step back to put me at ease. He can’t be so bad.
Not that I could trust my judgment. I’d lost that right.
“Are you listening?” he asked.
“Yeah, sorry. Go on.”
“The point is that all you care about are your nice fat profits. We do all the work, and you rake in the rewards. It must be nice to be an Addison.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
I was privileged, yes. I knew that. But for some reason, I couldn’t leave with Brooks thinking I was shallow and greedy. There was so much conviction in his voice that he’d half convinced me, and I was the guy he was railing against.
I took a step forward, blurting, “We’re not worried about profits. We want to invest more. We could expand, even.”
It wasn’t remotely true, but I thought it would make Brooks happier. I’d have to come up with a good reason to convince my father, but that was a problem for future Skylar. That Skylar could stand up to his dad, even though it had never happened yet.
That Skylar wasn’t afraid to leave the house either.
Damn, I really wanted to be that Skylar.
Brooks scowled harder. “You’ve got to be shitting me. That’s the last thing I need.”
“Well, it’s not a sure thing,” I backtracked. “You would know best.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You got that right.”
“My father wanted me to come by,” I admitted. “If I could just have a quick look around—”
The back door banged open, and two voices drifted in.
“Hey, Brooks, are we doing the trout special tonight or the surf n turf?” a female voice called.
“Shit.” Brooks raked a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that made it look even better. Damn, the man was gorgeous. Now that he wasn’t glowering at me, I could appreciate nature’s work. “I’ll be right there, Vera! Give me a minute.”
He turned back to me, but my dismissal was written all over his face. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to get the pub ready to open. I can’t stop you from looking around, but stay out of the back. There’s nothing but storage, and I don’t need you messing up my system back there.”
“I won’t get in your way,” I promised.
He gave me a once-over, and not the sexy kind. More like he was judging my worth, and I came up short.
“Too late.”
He headed for the kitchen, and I circled the room. I stepped behind the bar, tentatively taking stock of the boxes of liquor and kegs of beer. It looked clean and organized, but what did I know about running a pub? Maybe Brooks was right to be so disgruntled that I’d show up and pass some kind of verdict on the place.
He managed this business, not me. He should be the one reporting to Dad. Not that I imagined he would relish that either.
There was a door behind the bar, which must have been where Brooks entered while I was gawking out the window. But was it the office or the storage room Brooks wanted me to avoid?
I’d just take a peek.
I put my hand on the door handle, turning it.
“Hey.” Brook’s sharp tone made me freeze. “Didn’t I say to stay out of the back?”
“Sorry!” I backed away, my heart racing. “I-I was just checking. I wouldn’t have gone in.”
“There’s nothing there for you to see,” he said, coming closer. His scowl had grown fierce. “And I don’t have time to fucking babysit you while I’m trying to work.”
“That’s okay. I’ve seen more than enough.”
I fled toward the nearest exit from the bar, the one he wasn’t blocking.
“Wait, Skylar—”
I weaved between tables, walking faster, banging my hip into a chair in my rush to get away.
“Shit,” Brooks cursed.
I reached the front door and shoved it open, gulping a deep breath of fresh air as I stepped outside. Squinting once more.
And far too visible to Brooks, who followed me outside.
“Skylar, hold up. I didn’t mean to be an asshole.”
I didn’t want him to see me fall apart over a gentle reprimand. I carried on down the steps, not looking back.
“I’m fine.” My voice was thin and strained. “I just have to go.”
“Okay.” He sounded uncertain. “Well, come back whenever you want. I’ll try not to be such a dick. I’m just stressed today.”
I reached my car and opened the door. As I slipped into the driver’s seat, I caught his gaze, full of worry. But for me or for him?
Brooks had just run off the owner’s son. Maybe he thought I’d rat him out to my dad. I had no desire to get my father involved in Brooks’s business.
Not even whatever was going on in that back room. Because one thing was for sure. No one was that protective of a storage space.
CHAPTER 2
Brooks
“How are you, sweetie? You look tired.”
I smiled down at my grandmother, ensconced in a recliner in the community rec room at the Silver Cove Assisted Living Center with a knitted throw blanket over her lap. A sturdy walker waited beside her. She’d needed it since falling and breaking her hip a year ago.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?” I teased.
“Heck no. What do I have to be tired about? All I do is sit on my big ol’ butt.”
I took a seat on the loveseat across from her. My weight sank deep enough I could feel a spring jabbing my right ass cheek.
“Need me to bust you out of here?”
She gave a cackling laugh. “As if you have time for that.”
I shrugged. “I’d make time.”
Her expression softened. “I bet you would. You’re too good to me, Brooks.”
“Impossible.”
My grandmother was the most important person in my life. When I was fourteen, my mom brought me to Swallow Cove to visit for the summer. My father had died the winter before, a drug overdose, and Mom had been diving deeper into alcohol and pills too, using her grief as an excuse.
Or maybe it wasn’t an excuse. She’d loved Dad in her own dysfunctional way.
She’d left me here to pull herself together. Only, it never happened. She hadn’t come back. At least, not to take me home. Every few years she swept into town looking for a handout, put on a show about how much she missed me, then took off again.
Grandma raised me, became the stability I’d never had. I stayed with her, helped pay the bills and maintain her little cottage, until she’d fallen one too many times.
When they’d treated her broken hip, they’d discovered she had pneumonia too. She wasn’t stable enough to go home, and the doctors had warned me that her chance of falling again was high, and if she did, she might not recover.
We’d sold the house and moved Grandma into assisted living, but I still felt guilty. If I’d been home more often, maybe I could have prevented those earlier falls. Maybe she wouldn’t need a walker to get around. Maybe she wouldn’t feel trapped in this home, where people waited to die.
This home that continued to cost a lot of money. Her house proceeds had covered her medical bills and her first six months here, but only the fact I set aside almost every penny I made would help extend her stay. This was a nice private place where she got the attention she needed. If we couldn’t pay, she’d be transferred to a state nursing home, and I refused to let that happen.
“I wish you didn’t have to work so hard,” she said, her mind on a similar wavelength. But that wasn’t surprising for us.
“Eh, I’m young. I’ll rest when we’re both dead.” I winked playfully, even though the thought of losing Grandma made my heart ache.
She laughed. “Speak for yourself. I’m going to live forever.”
“I hope you do.”
“I have to live long enough to see my favorite grandson fall in love, at least. You need a family, Brooks.”
I leaned forward to pat her knee. “I’ve still got you, and I’ve got the Riggins.”
She nodded. “You see them often?”
“Fisher is at the pub almost every night now that he’s twenty-one. I can’t get rid of him.”
She smiled, eyes brightening. “Oh, that’s nice. You should tell him hello for me.”
“I will. I have dinner with him and Uncle Boone sometimes. They still invite me to holidays.”
I wanted to spend my holidays with Grandma, so I only ever stopped by their place for a brief time. But I knew they would welcome seeing me more than they did.
It just felt weird, trying to be close to them. I worried I was a charity project, the poor kid abandoned by his mother. An obligation and duty.
With Grandma, it was different. We’d been close even before Mom had ditched me there. If raising me was a burden, she’d never shown it.
Grandma loved me with her whole heart.
“Kittie, have you seen Evelyn?” A white-haired woman in bright crimson lipstick and a robe covered in unicorns interrupted our chat. She braced a hand on the love seat and leaned in to whisper loudly enough for the whole room to hear—at least those with their hearing aids turned up. “I swear that floozie is sneaking around with John behind my back!”
My grandmother snorted. “You’re paranoid, Minnie. He loves you.”
Minnie scoffed. “He’s a player, that one.” She giggled as she looked at me. “I always had a weak spot for the bad boys.”
