convince me to chop off my ass-length hair, but no. I had to have another weapon to make getting my dress on more difficult.
“And you’re only supposed to have bonfires in preapproved metal containers.” He glanced down at my makeshift fire. It had almost completely died out by now. “Not to mention, have at least a two-gallon bucket of water to douse the flames.”
I rolled my eyes. Was he actually serious right now?
My euphoria from the ritual began to evaporate. Well, that hadn’t lasted long.
With a huff, I ruffled the bottom layers, pulled my sopping wet hair out of the back of the dress, and then grabbed the shovel off of the ground. With a mighty heave, I covered up the dying flames with a heap of sand.
“There!” I spat. “Now, can we get back to what is important? Like what you’re doing here after all this time.”
He frowned, as if confused by my statement. And that was when it hit me.
He didn’t remember me.
Penn had no clue who the hell I was.
Oh god.
I hadn’t thought that this could get worse or more humiliating. Sure, I looked like a crazy person, burning soul-crushing rejection letters and then stripping nude into the Atlantic. But, now the guy I’d cursed for years was standing before me … and he was staring at me as if I were a stranger.
Six years was a long time.
It was.
Most people might not remember someone that they’d had a one-night stand with from that long ago. I knew it was maybe a little irrational to be upset about it all. But, fuck it, I was upset.
You didn’t have the most amazing night of your life with a total stranger and then completely forget that person! I didn’t care who the hell you were. I didn’t care how many times you’d had a one-night stand.
And it had been pretty clear that it wasn’t Penn’s first time—though it had been mine—but still, how could he have forgotten me?
“After all this time?” he asked.
“Never mind,” I grumbled. “The real question is, what are you doing here? Do you live nearby? I thought this was the wrong time of year for the rich and entitled to be in the Hamptons. Memorial Day to Labor Day, right?”
I couldn’t keep the snark out of my voice. No point in filling the bastard in on how I knew him. If he lived nearby, this was going to be one hellacious house-watching.
“Most people are gone. But this is my home, which is why I was wondering what you were doing here.”
“This is your home?” I whispered, pointing at the house off the beach. “No, this belongs to Mayor Kensington. She hired me to watch it this fall. You can’t possibly own that house.”
He shrugged and then sighed. “I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he said, clearly frustrated at my appearance.
“But…but…why would you…”
Then, it dawned on me. My heart stopped. My jaw dropped. I released a sharp breath in disbelief.
“You’re a Kensington.”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “I suppose it’s my family home.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I shook my head in disbelief.
I thought this ritual was supposed to cleanse shit from my life. Not bring in another issue. Fuck.
I could not deal with this right now. Not with my anxiety high from the rejection letters. I’d only been here three days. I’d thought this was a dream come true. Everything was pointing me to get the fuck out of Dodge. Because, man, what else was life going to throw at me? Everything always came in threes. That was what my mom had said.
“I can’t,” I said. I held up my hand to keep him from saying anything. Then, I grabbed the remaining matches and the bourbon, which he eyed curiously, and then stomped off with the shovel over my shoulder.
“Um…where are you going?”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I told him.
I didn’t care that I was being incredibly unprofessional. Or that I was probably ruining my chance at staying at this house. Not that I wanted to work for the woman who had birthed this asshole. But I just needed to get away. I needed to get away and decompress and figure out how to proceed. If I saw his gorgeous face and that come-hither smile anymore, I was likely to stab him with the shovel.
Penn didn’t seem to listen though. He barged right up the beach after me. Heedless of the sand in his loafers or messing up his