Bidding On The Bachelor
That night she’d been wearing sexy jean shorts and a little red tank top. They’d shared a glance, then a head nod. Next thing he knew he was sitting next to her on a log sharing her s’more. Didn’t take long for them to move their party of two farther down the beach where they’d shared one hell of a make-out session.
Just like that, they’d become hot and heavy and completely inseparable during senior year. Until about a month after graduation. Carissa had been accepted to Northwestern and he was going to UPenn, just like his father. He could never think of Carissa without his mind going to that last fateful conversation.
“Jasper, you aren’t serious about anything.”
“What are you talking about? I’m serious about you.”
She shook her head. “That’s not enough. You party all the time with your friends.”
“So what? And anyway, they’re your friends, too.”
“I know. But I’m just saying that there’s more to life than keg parties in the woods and making out in someone’s basement.”
“I think we did a little more than make out.”
She pointed at him. “See, you can’t even be serious now. Just like my dad,” she said under her breath.
“I know you’re upset because your parents want to move away from Bayside...”
“That doesn’t bother me. I want them to move away, actually.”
“Why?”
“Never mind, that’s not the point.” She flung her long hair over her shoulder.
“Okaaaayyyy.” He would never understand girls. “Then, what is the point?”
“You are relying on your parents’ money and connections to get you through life. You have no ambition and no drive. Do you think I want to be with someone like that? I don’t.” She looked at the ground.
He felt like someone had slapped him across the face. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to ever come back to Bayside. I’m so done with this town. I want someone who has goals and like, initiative and stuff,” She bit her lip. Even as she insulted him, there was sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jasper. You just don’t.”
With that, she’d walked away with his heart.
He’d tried to call her but she’d never answered. Her parents said she went to a prefreshman-year program at Northwestern. She’d wanted to get a jump on classes. Then her parents had moved away later in the year and she didn’t have a reason to return to Bayside anymore. He never saw her again.
It was Jasper’s nature to find a bright side. But in truth, Carissa’s words stung. Not only did she break up with him, but she insulted his very character.
It had taken some time. A lot of time. But eventually, the memory of Carissa’s words had kicked his butt into gear. She wanted someone with ambition and that’s what he’d decided to give her. Even if they weren’t actually together.
His father’s name may have gotten him into college, but he worked his butt off once he got there. He joined a fraternity but when it was time for midterms or finals, he’d camp out at the library to make sure he kept his GPA up, finally graduating with honors. He never told his parents about applying to grad schools so they couldn’t influence the process.
He’d come a long way from the irresponsible, somewhat reckless, carefree kid who was always the life of the party. Some people had called him foolish, but in Jasper’s mind he’d always been underestimated.
At some point, though, all the hard work stopped being just for her. He’d become obsessed with doing the very best he could and in the process he’d become the head of Dumont Incorporated. If Carissa were here maybe he’d thank her. Especially after his victory tonight. But the odds of ever seeing Carissa Blackwell in Bayside again were slim to none.
His phone made a little ding alerting him to a text message. He looked down to see his brother’s name. How’d it go with Morris?
Jasper began texting back but something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman standing at the same location where he’d been before his little walk down memory lane. Fingers still poised over the keypad on his phone, he didn’t have time to text Cam back before his brother added, Either way, come over tonight. Let’s hang out and watch the game.
Again, he began typing a reply but the woman reached her arms above her head and stretched. She was really beautiful. He peered closer and got a chill up the back of his neck.
She looked familiar. Too familiar. Jasper gripped his cell harder and began walking faster. Closer. But as he rounded the corner, she was heading away from the dock toward a black car.
He would know that sashay of hips anywhere. After all, the last time he’d seen a movement like that had been her swaying body walking away from him.
No way. No freaking way.
“Carissa?” he said into the silence around him. Luckily, no one was there to hear him talking to himself. Likewise, no one was there to see him step to the side to ensure he was actually seeing his first love and not some late-summer apparition brought on by too much work. In any case, he slipped, hit the railing with too much momentum, and before he could say Carissa is back in Bayside, he’d fallen over the metal divider and into the bay.
Chapter Two
Greetings, dear readers! After a brief hiatus, your ever-faithful Bayside Blogger is back from a much-needed summer vacay! And color me shocked, surprised and downright confused. Carissa Blackwell, former Bayside High A-list superstar, has also returned to our fair shores! And just why is little-miss-too-good-for-good-ole-Bayside back in town?
Let’s get down to it, folks—the far more interesting question is...how does Jasper Dumont feel? Well, I understand he took a late-evening swim in the bay after catching a glimpse of his long-lost prom queen. And let’s just say that the swim wasn’t exactly planned...
Jasper needed some liquor.
Once he was home, freshly showered and in dry clothes, he crossed the room to the wall that held a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. He scanned the bottom shelf until he found what he was searching for. His high school yearbook. Jasper grabbed it from the shelf, made a cup of coffee and started riffling through the pages until he got to the B names.
There she was. Carissa Blackwell. Jasper didn’t need to ogle the photo to recall that long golden hair, legs that went on for miles and flawless skin that always looked like it was kissed by the sun.
Flipping more pages, he eyed the photos of the cheerleaders. There she was again, all decked out in that appealing little uniform. His lips quirked. Damn, he’d loved watching her cheer at football games. He’d loved making out with her under the bleachers after the game even more.
They’d done everything together senior year. Until she’d broken up with him. Jasper could feel his eyebrows growing close together just as something fell out from between the pages of the yearbook. A picture of the two of them at prom. He couldn’t remember who had snapped it. But in the photo they were dancing; Carissa was staring up at him adoringly as he had his arms wrapped tightly around her.
To this day, Jasper still wondered what had changed. Prom had been one month before she’d dumped him. When had she stopped looking at him like that and decided he hadn’t been good enough for her?
His phone—which luckily had fallen from his hand and landed safely on the dock—rang.
“Hey, Cam,” he greeted his big brother.
“So?”
Jasper shifted in his seat. So what?”
“So what have you been doing?”
Jasper eyed the garbage can, where he’d decided to throw his clothes out after he climbed out of the bay. As he’d hoisted himself back onto the wooden dock, he’d snagged his pants. The quick jaunt from the water to his new condo in the center of town had been interesting. Wet and interesting. If his brother found out about it, he’d never hear the end of it.
So he decided to play it cool. “I haven’t been doing anything,” he lied. He paced the length of the living room. He loved this condo with its exposed beamed ceiling, brick walls and amazing view of the bay. Although, the sight of the water at the moment made him cringe.
“What do you mean you haven’t been doing anything? Wasn’t your huge meeting with Mr. Morris today? I’ve been texting you for the last hour.”
Jasper snapped out of his Carissa-focused stupor. “Right. Sorry.” He proceeded to tell Cam all about the meeting. His brother seemed ecstatic for him.
“That’s amazing, Jasp. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Cam.” And he meant it. He’d always idolized his older brother and Cam’s approval meant the world to him.
“Now, what about after the meeting?”
“What do you mean?” Jasper asked hesitantly.
“I heard you celebrated by going for a little swim in the bay.”
Jasper ground his teeth together. “How did you...” He trailed off. Of course, he already knew the answer to that question. How did anyone in Bayside know anything? The ever-loving, always-gossipy Bayside Blogger, of course.
The Bayside Blogger wrote for the Bayside Bugle’s Style & Entertainment section. No one knew her identity, or how she always—and it truly felt like always—found out the gossip before anyone else. She also utilized a daily blog, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and just about every other form of communication in existence.
“And the Blogger said that Carissa Blackwell is back in town,” Cam was saying. “She alluded to your little dip in the water having something to do with a Carissa spotting.”
Spotting? When had his brother become TMZ? Time to call him out. “I thought you didn’t read that...what did you used to call it? Trash, I believe,” Jasper said.
Cam coughed. “Uh, Elle reads it. I just happen to catch snippets here and there.”
“Sure, sure. Elle reads it. Doesn’t explain how you would know about me falling into the bay today, though, since your beloved is out of town checking out that up-and-coming artist for the gallery. You must be losing your mind without your better half around.” Got him.
Since Elle returned from living in Italy last spring, she and his brother had been practically attached at the hip. Jasper was happy for his brother. And jealous, if he was being honest. The guy was head over heels in love. And Elle looked at him the way Carissa gazed at him in that old prom photo.
“She’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Listen, Jasp,” Cam said, his voice growing serious.
Here we go, Jasper thought. He knew exactly where this was heading. This was so not going to be fun.
“Yes?”
“Carissa.” Cam said her name the way one might say cancer or terrorist.
“Was my high school girlfriend.”
“She was way more than that and we both know it. And she’s back in town.”
Jasper ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “We don’t know that.”
“The Bayside Blogger said—”
“So what? Just because the Bayside Blogger—”
This time Cam cut him off. “Hate to admit it but the Bayside Blogger—whoever he or she may be—does tend to be right.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Cam started to say something so Jasper quickly beat him to the punch. “We dated a million years ago. I heard she got married and was living in the Midwest somewhere. I, on the other hand, have a date lined up with a certain hottie from the gym.”
There was a long pause. “Do you want to come over?” Cam finally asked.
What he wanted was to forget that he’d seen Carissa Blackwell. He wanted to have a couple beers, be alone with his thoughts, and not hear about the damn Bayside Blogger.
Luckily, he knew just where to accomplish everything he needed. The Rusty Keg, an old dive bar, sat on the outskirts of town. People would recognize him there but they’d also give him room and leave him alone.
“No, I’m good. Honestly,” he assured his brother.
And he would be. So long as he didn’t see Carissa Blackwell again.
And he stayed away from water.
* * *
Carissa was not a suspicious person. She was rooted in the here and now and considered herself rational and practical. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.
She’d left Chicago yesterday, stayed overnight in Ohio, driven all day, hit some nasty traffic, and drunk about fifteen coffees before finally arriving in Bayside. Needing a moment to stretch—not to mention, take in the town she hadn’t laid eyes on in over a decade—she’d pulled over at the dock before she made her way to her aunt’s cottage.
It was while she was there, taking a moment to refamiliarize herself with Bayside, stretching and getting the kinks out of her tired muscles, when she started to get that spooky feeling. First, goose bumps broke out on her skin. Then she thought she saw someone out of the corner of her eye, over to her right. Fed up, she’d left the dock and returned to her car. That’s when she’d received full confirmation that she was indeed being watched. About five people stood outside the town’s popular square, staring and pointing at her while they whispered to each other and tapped away on their phones.
Great. Back in Bayside for five minutes and the welcome committee was already starting with the gossip. She wondered how long it would take for the whole town to know she’d returned. They wouldn’t know she’d come home with her tail between her legs. Not as long as she could help it.
She hightailed it to her aunt’s cottage in record time.
She found the key where Aunt Val had instructed her to look, in the flowerpot around back. She peered closer. A flowerpot that appeared to be holding a weed plant if she wasn’t mistaken. Given that, she wasn’t sure if she was excited or nervous about what she might find inside.
Carissa let herself into the two-bedroom cottage, flicked the light switch and smiled. It was the same cozy and eccentric home she remembered from high school, maybe with a few more knickknacks collected over the years. Every room was painted a different pastel color. The kitchen wasn’t the most updated she’d ever seen but it was definitely workable. And bonus, it overlooked the deck, the small backyard and the bay beyond that. The view was probably worth more than the entire rest of the house.
The decor was beachy and comfortable, the exact opposite of the modern high-rise she’d shared with Preston in Chicago. Perfect. Two minutes in this place and she already felt more at ease than she had in six years in her condo. This place screamed for you to kick off your shoes, whip up a margarita and blast some Jimmy Buffett from the radio.
Carissa nodded definitely. “This will do just fine,” she murmured to herself. She saw a long note on the counter and quickly scanned it. Her aunt explained the AC system, which apparently went on the fritz from time to time. Great—since it was the last week of August, the temperature in Virginia was sweltering.
She also left instructions for watering her eclectic—and hopefully legal—garden out back. There were notes about the proper remote for the television, what days the trash was picked up, and a large warning for her not to enjoy the absinthe in the liquor cabinet. But everything else was hers to use, borrow and enjoy.
Carissa spent the next hour hauling her boxes from the car and getting settled. Her suitcases went into the guest bedroom she would be using. A bedroom, she noted, that was decorated in an explosion of peach paint and shell tchotchkes. It was kind of like sleeping in The Golden Girls house but Carissa couldn’t complain. The rent was free and she would be able to catch her breath.
Her parents had never liked this house. They’d claimed her aunt had too much crap and the interior decorating was childlike and outdated. But Carissa had always loved coming over to visit Aunt Val. She didn’t have to worry if she spilled crumbs on the floor or made her bed. Living in her childhood home had been like growing up in a museum. The floors had been hard and the furniture uncomfortable. Forget eating anywhere but the kitchen or dining room. And a cleaning lady came through twice a week.
How’d that work out for you, Mom and Dad? Carissa shook her head. Her parents had lost all of their money and most of their stuff. Her dad had lost the money, she corrected. Not that it had been his to begin with. Her mother had come from a wealthy family with old money, which her dad had misspent, mismanaged and eventually blown through.
She didn’t quite feel like unpacking yet so she meandered into the kitchen for a snack. Aunt Val said she would provide some munchies to get her started. Carissa eyed the weed plant out the sliding glass door as she recalled the use of the word munchies. But when she started hunting through the cabinets and fridge, there wasn’t so much as a bag of chips to be found. There was another note attached to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a starfish.
Didn’t have time to go to store. Sorry, Dollface.
Well, that explained that. There was a calendar hanging on the wall next to the fridge. She sighed. Just what she needed to see. A visual reminder of what today was.
Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday dear recently divorced, almost completely broke twenty-nine-year-old meeeeeee.
Happy freaking birthday to me.
As part of her practical nature, Carissa never needed or wanted a big party, lots of presents or any kind of fuss made over her birthday. But even she hated the fact that she’d spent the first day of the last year of her twenties driving hundreds of miles because she’d just gotten divorced. Twenty-nine years old and already she’d been both married and divorced. Not exactly the path she’d envisioned for her life.
Snagging her car keys and shaking off the morbid mood, Carissa headed out the door toward the grocery store for a few essentials: coffee, milk, bread, peanut butter and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. But since there was a nice breeze, she decided to forgo the car and walk to the store instead. After the long drive, she could use the exercise.
Once at the store, she steered her shopping cart down one aisle after another, unsure of what she was in the mood for. She grabbed cereal and some snacks, a couple bags of fruit and the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. A little birthday present to herself. But as she perused the different brands of coffee, she couldn’t help but tune in to someone else’s conversation. In fact, a couple different snippets of conversations. All about her.
I’m not making this up. It was her. Carissa Blackwell.
Didn’t you read the Bayside Blogger’s tweets today? She already knows about this.
...can’t believe she’s back here! Didn’t she swear off Bayside back in high school?
Strange that no one ever heard from her parents again. It’s like they disappeared into thin air.
Carissa checked the time on her phone. Two hours. That was all it had taken for her to become the topic of hot gossip. And who was this Bayside Blogger who seemed to know her every move?
Didn’t matter. Enough of this. She needed to get outside, stat. She pushed her cart to the side, items completely forgotten, and exited the store.
All she wanted was to escape the gossips and get some air.
As she walked along the back streets of the neighborhood back toward the cottage, she remembered something. There was a dive bar that used to sit back this way. She could go for a drink. Or two.
While she headed in the direction of the bar, one of the gossipers’ words reverberated through her head. Can’t believe she’s back here.
Carissa kicked at an imaginary stone. “Yeah, that makes two of us,” she muttered.
Then, like a beacon calling her home, she saw the old bar at the end of the street, surrounded by a small parking lot full of stones and overgrown trees. Score. She definitely wouldn’t be recognized here. Double score. Carissa knew if she filled in the gaps on the half–burned out neon sign hanging above the door, she’d read the name, The Rusty Keg.
True, she’d come out for a snack. But bars had snacks. Even more importantly, bars had alcohol. And nothing was going to make this nightmare of a day better than some good old-fashioned liquor.
She pushed open the creaky door and was immediately assaulted by a musky smell of cheap beer, fried food and sweat. The place was dark, dank and completely off the beaten path.
In other words, it was perfect.
Carissa strolled up to the bar, noticing the scratched-up wood just waiting to give someone a splinter. She reached under the bar, feeling around for a purse hook, then immediately snatched her hand back. Had she just touched someone’s used wad of gum? Yuck. She shook her head. An establishment with a half-lit, crooked sign above the door outside and a rotting bar with mismatched bar stools that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the nineties was definitely not going to have purse hooks. They probably didn’t even have pinot noir. She slid a glance toward the single-stall bathroom and scrunched her nose. Forget about toilet seat covers. That was probably a mere pipe dream.
“What can I get you?” a burly man with a full Duck Dynasty–worthy beard bellowed from behind the bar.
“Shot of tequila and the local beer on tap.”
He nodded, pulled her beer, poured the shot, but otherwise stayed silent. Carissa didn’t waste any time. “Happy birthday to me,” she said to no one in particular before throwing the shot back. The liquid burned her throat and made her eyes water. She turned her head and let out an exasperated “wowza” just in time to see none other than Jasper Dumont sitting right next to her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Oh.” It was all she could think to say aloud. On the inside, however, there was a whole vocal party happening. No-freaking-way-it’s-your-ex-boyfriend!
No, not just an ex-boyfriend. Jasper Dumont was so much more than a simple ex. With some age and perspective, she realized their one-year relationship was such a short period of time in the grand scheme of life. But damn, that one year had been nothing short of amazing. Making out, dances, football games, making out, skipping school occasionally, making out, one epic prom, passing notes in calculus class, wanton looks by the lockers and even more making out. Well, making out that quickly led to much-less-PG versions of mere kissing.
Now this boy—er, man—whom she hadn’t seen in a decade, but whom, if she was being brutally honest and the tequila was already loosening her up on that score, she’d never stopped thinking about was sitting right next to her. At a dive bar in her hometown.
“Carissa Blackwell,” he said, his voice smooth and cutting. “Pigs must be flying because here you are. Back in Bayside.”
Despite the coldness coming off him in waves, he looked amazing. Same blond hair and striking blue eyes. But that lanky boy she used to kiss under the bleachers was now all filled out with broad shoulders and from what she could see, an impressive chest. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her beer. More to give herself a moment and to slow down the pulse that Jasper had sent soaring.
“Miracles can happen,” she said, raising her mug of beer in a toast.
“Apparently.” His gaze drank her in from the top of her head over her navy blue tank top and down her capri jeans to the toes that desperately needed a pedicure. Toes that curled as he gave an appreciative nod.
“It’s, um, nice to see you, Jasper.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t expect to find you in a bar like this.”
“Likewise,” he quickly said. “Actually I wouldn’t expect to find you anywhere in the city limits.”
She nodded. She probably should have expected that from him. But what was she supposed to say? The truth? I got divorced. I have no money or career and this was the only place I had to go.
“Touché,” she said instead. “But I’m back in town.”
“For how long?” he asked quickly, too quickly. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, anger laced his question. She must have reacted to it because his features softened. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. And I do remember that today is your birthday. So happy birthday, Carissa.”