She Likes Pina Coladas: A Second Chance Romance (Bristol Bay Book 1) Read online

  Copyright

  She Likes Pina Coladas © 2021 Brittanee Nicole

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  First paperback edition October 2021

  Cover Design & Formatting by Cover 2 Cover Author Services

  Editing by Happily Editing Anns

  ISBN 979-8-4669-8606-8 (paperback)

  ASIN B09BPQ8XB5 (e-book)

  Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  THE END

  Kisses Sweet Like Wine

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  To my first reader, whether it was bedtime stories or my own books, you’ve always been by my side. Thank you for being my biggest supporter and sorry for all the sexy parts.

  I love you, Mommy.

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte

  Six Years Ago

  I really shouldn’t have had that last shot. The first one was a mistake. The second one felt like a good idea at the time, but God, that third one, after all the green beer…well, it was definitely a bad idea.

  My eyes scan the room for my best friend, or her boyfriend, or really any one of the many friends we’ve run into today at the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Where is everyone?

  “Want another beer?” the voice behind me asks. I turn to look at the boy who bought me the last shot and grimace. If I have another beer, I won’t be able to stand up straight. As it is, the loud music leaves my ears ringing.

  Swaying unintentionally, I purse my lips as I try to answer his question. He’s not unattractive, but I don’t know him, and I’m pretty sure Steph would tell me that allowing him to buy me another drink would just be leading him on. Or it would result in a really bad decision where I didn’t lead him on and instead led him back to my dorm room. We are in our last year of college, and Steph made me promise to let loose today, but I’m pretty sure this is not what she meant.

  Pat’s best friend was supposed to meet us at the parade. They swore it wasn’t a setup, but Steph kept telling me his friend was hot and I would definitely want it to be a setup, and then he didn’t show. Pat seemed super embarrassed, or maybe he was just upset because he got stuck with us all day. Either way it resulted in lots of drinking on my part, and now I can’t find them.

  I shake my head at the boy. “Nope. I’m okay.”

  He shrugs his plaid-shirted shoulders at me. “Okay, want to get out of here?”

  Without hesitating, I reply, “No. I’m going to go find my friend, I think.”

  His shaggy head swings wildly as he walks off muttering under his breath. Pretty sure he called me a tease.

  You’ve got that right, buddy. It takes a hell of a lot more than a few shots to find your way into my pants.

  Turning away indignantly, I plop a twenty onto the bar and ask for another beer. Just because I didn’t want plaid boy to buy me another drink doesn’t mean I’m done drinking.

  “Yeah, she’s all set.” A hand grabs the twenty off the bar and shoves it into my hand. What the hell? I turn my head around to give the rude stranger a piece of my mind and am greeted by a broad wall of muscle which is unmoving and daring me to trace my fingers against it.

  Okay, maybe it’s just that the man who belongs to the chest is unmoving, and definitely, probably not begging me to touch him, but that is precisely how my tipsy fingers feel. They do a twist up his stomach like the itsy-bitsy spider, and I bite back a laugh. Then I inch my chin up to look at the face which belongs to the chest. He has a strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, a five o’clock shadow shading his face, and wide blue eyes with golden flecks which dance as he looks down at me, his brow slightly lifted as if he’s daring me to fight him.

  Yeah, I have no interest in fighting him. This beautiful man—he is definitely not a boy like the college guys I’ve been surrounded by for the last few months; he’s all man—is someone I want to listen to. Which, for the record is an anomaly. I don’t listen to anyone. Remembering that, I cock my chin up and ball my fists together. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  His lips pull up in a smirk, as if he were waiting for the fight and he’s excited that I didn’t give in right away, and then his deep voice rumbles, “The guy who’s taking you home.”

  I bite the smile from my lips and prepare to go toe to toe with him. Without another breath, the man grabs my hand and pulls me away from the bar. As his arm goes around my shoulders and he pulls me to his chest, I find myself infatuated with the way he smells, like a rainy afternoon. Not the overpowering smell of Abercrombie cologne like the rest of the guys here. He smells like he just stepped out of the shower. Embarrassingly, I push my head into his shirt and inhale again. His chest vibrates as he laughs, clearly amused by the crazy girl he picked up at the bar. How long until he realizes I’m delusional and he’s in over his head? Hopefully not too soon, since I’d like to stare at him for a few more hours.

  The cool air hits me when we breach the door of the bar. Spring in New England is cold. Especially here in Newport where I attend college because it sits on the water. My hands move to my arms, and the breeze brings me back to reality. I don’t know this man, and I have no idea where Steph and Pat are. Pulling myself away from him, I ground myself in place.

  “Are you cold?” he asks as he pulls me close again. Honestly, it’s hard for me to think with his chest so close to my face. And his smell. I push back and keep my hand up, making it clear that I don’t want him to come any closer.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Yes. Finally, I’ve remembered how to act. I’m not going home with this stranger.

  “You clearly have had too much to drink. I’m just going to make sure you get home safe.” He holds up his hands as if to say he’s harmless, but I’m not worried about him jumping me. It’s the reverse he should be concerned about. I want to go home and climb him. Not a good idea and definitely not how I normally act. I don’t do one-nigh
t stands. I don’t do night-stands at all. I’m a girl who likes being in relationships. Someone who likes to be treasured. After all the drinking today, I can see myself making some very bad decisions.

  And man do I want to because He. Is. Hot.

  “I just need to find my friends.” I fumble with my phone, trying to figure out how to make it work, but my thumb seems too fat, and I keep hitting the wrong numbers.

  His lip inches up again. “How about we get you something to eat and then I can help you find your friends?”

  Pancakes. Oh, pancakes sound amazing right now. I need pancakes like I need to breathe. I cock my eyebrow up at Mr. Mysterious again, trying to decide if I want pancakes as badly as I want to find Steph. Yeah, pancakes with the hot guy is totally going to win. “Name?”

  His chest rumbles from that deep laugh again. “Mine?”

  I nod. “Yes. I can’t go get pancakes with you if I don’t know your name.”

  His lips break out in a wide smile, and the butterflies flutter in my stomach. It’s the most perfect smile that ever existed. And it’s all for me. I made him smile like that. “Jack. And you are?”

  Jack. Ah. Even his name makes my butterflies dance. Jack. I’m pretty sure I just sighed out his name a few times because his eyes crinkle, and he looks even happier than moments before. “My name is Charlotte. Nice to meet you, Jack.”

  He extends his hand out to shake mine, and I stare down in excitement. God, what that hand could do to me. My eyes grow large, and he laughs again. I’m making a complete fool of myself. Without waiting for me to shake his hand, he pulls me under his arm and starts walking. “So can I take you for pancakes?”

  My eyes light up. Yes, pancakes with Jack. Sounds like the perfect night.

  Hours later, after I’ve eaten all the pancakes a girl could possibly eat and laughed harder than I have in years, I lie in bed with a smile. Ignoring my heavy eyelids, I focus instead on the man who shares my bed. I don’t want this night to end. From the moment I met him, it’s like the axis in my world shifted.

  I, Charlotte Marie Chase, have met my soulmate.

  No longer would I be the girl who is dateless on a Friday night—or the dreaded third wheel with Pat and Steph. I am now part of a couple. There will be double dates and wine nights in our future. I’ll graduate college and won’t have to listen to my grandmother mumble under her breath, “It’s great the girl has a degree but what about a man?”

  I have one!

  Sure, we’ve only just met, and it’s only been a few hours, but I am telling you, this is the real thing. I knew it as soon as I laid eyes on his tall six-foot frame. He might be even taller. My black boots gave me a few inches in height, and he was still a foot above me.

  Blond hair is shaved tightly against his head, but that wasn’t something I noticed immediately because he’d been wearing a Red Sox hat at the bar. It wasn’t until we went to the diner and he took it off that I finally got a good look at him. His manners are something my grandmother will love.

  I don’t even know how old he is or what he does—I was far more interested in the way he made me laugh than his profession—but I’m sure it’s something noble because he just seems like that kind of guy. During dinner I got lost in his blue eyes with the golden sparkles in them. I’ve never seen anything like it—they’re not boring brown like mine—and he’s got a freckle above his lip. When we curled up in bed, he whispered into my ear that he loves my “big, beautiful, brown eyes” and my face split open in a smile.

  He sighs into my ear now. “You still awake?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmur, too tired to even use words.

  His arms tighten around my waist. “This has been the most incredible night. Thank you.” His voice is deep and husky, with an emotional undercurrent. There is no questioning whether these feelings are real. My butterflies tell me everything I need to know. Even if I couldn’t rely on them, I can hear it in his voice—he knows tonight was it. The last first date either of us will ever go on. I feel like the luckiest person in the world. Most people never meet their soulmate, let alone at twenty-two. No more disastrous first dates. No more dating at all.

  His lips brush against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, and my entire body hums. I wish I had the energy to turn my head and kiss him, but that is something I want to savor—our first kiss. He’d been such a gentleman he hadn’t even tried. “I just want to hold you,” he said when we entered my dorm.

  Grams would be proud.

  I drift off to sleep in a love-drunken haze, hopeful for the future and content. I barely feel him shift a pillow closer to me as he slides his arm away, leaving my room and disappearing from my life.

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte

  Six Years Later

  January

  “I swear, if I ever tell you that I think I’ve met a good guy, smack me. Just right across the face. Lay one on me, because I have the worst taste in men. Ever.” My best friend, Steph, stares back at me with an amused smirk on her face. Rude. The least she could do is hide her amusement and laugh about it later. But that’s not Steph. Nope. She’s going to enjoy this.

  “I mean you met him at the grocery store. What did you think this was going to be? A fairy tale?”

  “But his eyes,” I say, batting my lashes at her. Her smile grows bigger.

  “Oh, yes. You and his damn eyes.”

  They were the first thing I noticed about Ben in the grocery store checkout six months prior when he snuck in front of me while I was reaching for a pack of gum. I almost said something, but he only had a few things in his hand. Of course, it was the “under ten” aisle so none of us had much, and I didn’t want to cause a scene. And like I said, his eyes were so blue. When the clerk announced Ben was the one millionth shopper in the store, and he’d won a hundred-dollar gift card, I couldn’t bite my tongue. Fortunately, he took my tongue-lashing in stride and asked me out for a drink. The rest, as they say, is history. Or at least it was until today. Now we’re history.

  “So, what happened?” Steph asks, walking to the kitchen as I trail behind. On the couch sits her pug, Grover, and he barely looks up as I walk past. Lazy boy. Instinctively, my hand brushes against his soft ears, and I feel emotions start to bubble up from my chest. Swallowing my pride and my incoming tears, I snuggle close to his nose. What is it about dogs that makes everything seem better? Just sitting here, rubbing his soft black ears, my emotions soften, and I start to gain perspective about my entire day.

  Steph returns from the kitchen with a box of wine in her hand and two glasses. Plopping them down on the coffee table, she doesn’t hesitate to fill them both to the brim before taking a sip of hers.

  “You brought out the box for me?” In awe, I finally take a sip and close my eyes as the red wine hits my throat and brings forth the emotions that the dog just suppressed.

  “Yeah, I’m not wasting good wine on this conversation. I can tell we’ll be drinking a lot, and that’s what she’s good for.” She pats the box like it’s her child, and her chest swells with pride. Steph really likes her wine.

  I laugh. “You do realize you just referred to the box of wine as a she?”

  Steph doesn’t even bat an eye. Her expression lets me know she’s over the small talk. But where to start? I didn’t begin the day with the intention of breaking up with my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Gah, I loved that word. What an idiot I was. Anyway, it wasn’t my intention to break up with Ben today. Sure, he’d been grating on my nerves, but that was because he was always around, never giving me any space. That’s all I was asking for—some space. But then he dipped his finger into the peanut butter jar and slurped on it. I shudder from the memory.

  “I broke up with Ben.”

  Steph looks at me as if to say, yeah, and? We’ve been friends since the first day of college, and most of the time we finish each other’s sentences. Right n
ow, it would be great if she would not make me finish mine.

  “Christmas break has just been, ugh, shall we say difficult.” Wincing, I think of the last two weeks which I had looked forward to more than usual. Steph and I are both kindergarten teachers at the local elementary school. Ben works in finance and doesn’t like kids. That should have been a red flag, but I only just found that out. “You know how Sam was having trouble with his letters?”

  Steph’s eyes crinkle but she nods. “I’m not sure where we are going with this.”

  I sigh. Sam is one of my favorite kids. He has two moms which he tells everyone about. It’s completely adorable. He loves the color pink, can hit a baseball farther than any of the first graders—something he’s never pointed out, but his best friend Cassidy says proudly all the time—and he has a lot of trouble with spelling. Last week he came into class and told me that Chris had called him the E word. My eyes bulged until I realized that I didn’t know what the E word was. I sat him down at his desk and asked if he could whisper it—you never know what a kid is going to say, and if it was a bad word, I didn’t want the rest of the class learning it too. Very seriously, he raised his eyes to mine and said, “Chris called me an idiot.” I did my best not to laugh, and then called his moms and offered to tutor him over Christmas break. I didn’t want him falling behind while he had two weeks off. Apparently, this was not the appropriate move. For Ben at least.

  I tried to explain to him the importance of kindergarten, as it’s a foundational year. “It’s ABCs,” he replied mockingly. “How hard could it be?” He followed it up with, “This isn’t your job. Can’t his parents help him?”

  What he doesn’t get is that I enjoy individual moments with my students more than I enjoy my time with him. Probably a bad sign. But still, I tried to keep him happy. Kept my time with Sam to a minimum and made sure I was available to spend time with Ben. Which, for the record, has been miserable.

  Ben works virtually which means for the past two weeks he’s been working from my apartment. He said it would give us more time together. Honestly, I wanted to settle on the couch and read a good book, not listen to Ben’s condescending tone as he talks to his colleagues on Zoom. He’s so loud. And jerky. Also, he looks ridiculous in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal wearing a full shirt and tie tucked into his boxers—his work attire.