"Britt." His voice cracked. "This is only the beginning for us. We're not going to let this slip away."
I sighed happily and took his hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. Staring at it because I couldn't meet his eyes. "How do you know this isn't just a summer fling? A vacation romance? What if we get home and find out our everyday selves aren't the same people? And we don't like them as well."
"I believe the everyday you will be just as fantastic. We weathered the summer storm of the century together, as the news is calling it. We can weather anything." He kissed me.
Thank You!
Thanks for reading The Billionaire's Beach House! I hope you enjoyed it!
If you liked it, you may want to pick up more books in the Jet City Billionaire Series.
Jet City Billionaire books by Gina Robinson:
The Billionaire Duke Series
The American Heir
The Switched at Marriage Series
To Love and To Cherish
The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows
Want to know when Gina's next book will be out? Sign up for her VIP New Release List at ginarobinson.com. If you’re on the list, you’ll always be the first to know about new releases, including when the next Jet City Billionaire romance will be available. And you’ll get the Gina Robinson Starter Library FREE just for signing up!
Ship Wrecked
By Willow Summers
One
“Crap!” I staggered and sprayed sand all over the empty towel next to me. My near fall had broken the strap of my sandal, leaving a limp piece of rubbery plastic dangling uselessly from my foot. Tentatively, I slipped out of the traitorous footwear and stood barefoot on the scorching sand.
As expected, pain radiated up my foot within seconds.
“Shoot.” I glanced up at the distant snack station and neighboring bar—pretty far—then back toward my empty towel near the ocean. Quite a bit closer.
Decisions.
Oh, who was I kidding? How could I possibly drown my anxiety over my upcoming presentation if I didn’t have a fruity cocktail?
I thoroughly analyzed the offending sandal. No way was it getting fixed. I’d need Duct tape and bubblegum at the very least.
I judged the distance again. Half a beach sprawled before me, speckled in white hotel towels and a few fancy sunshades with corresponding beach chairs.
What was a little pain, anyway? I could handle it.
Onward.
Picking up the broken sandal, I hurried across the Hawaiian sand. The flare of heat turned into a bite. Then into a horrible burn that soaked into the base of my bare foot. An empty white towel caught my eye just up the way. All I had to do was get past another row of sun-tanners…
I staggered for the second time as my intact sandal joined the revolt against drunkenness. Sand sprayed and I tripped onto a crumpled towel before falling against a sun chair.
“Hey!” A man who was reclining recoiled and then sat up, lifting his arm so he could stare down at the sand now coating his glistening skin. My eyes stuck to his deliciously toned muscles for a moment before I got a grip.
“I’m so sorry!” I said, perching on the towel like a woman surrounded by lava. “My sandal broke.”
The man took in my situation as his friend sat forward to gawk.
My friends didn’t call me “Devastating Delilah” because I was quiet and reserved and everything in my life always went according to plan…
“You wouldn’t happen to have two blocks of ice that I could strap to my feet?” I threw them a wink, buying time. My feet were still throbbing painfully.
“Looks like both your sandals broke.” The guy closest to me pointed at my feet.
“Just call you Mr. Observation,” I said with a grin.
“You know what Will Rogers said…”
“The cowboy?” I asked in confusion.
“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation.” He pointed at himself. “That’s me. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.”
“That’s also you,” his friend said with a laugh.
“That was one time,” the man replied, laughing with him.
I could feel a smile drifting across my face at their banter.
“Right…” I glanced away at the snack bar. It was time to make shapes.
“You need a lift?” the closest man said.
“Like…” I looked around for some sort of transportation equipment. As one might expect of a sectioned-off part of a beach resort, no such luck. “With a sled, or…”
He ducked out from under his umbrella and then spied the towel under my feet.
“Oh. Uh…” I wasn’t really sure how to politely say I wasn’t ready to move because the sand was too hot.