Off-Season: A Billionaire Beach Sweet Southern Romantic Comedy (Schooled on Love: Clean Southern Romantic Comedy Book 4) Read online

  Within ten minutes, she’d made it to the small market store that was the flagship of the shopping center. A bell rang when she pushed the glass door open. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and scanned the store. A quick glance around proved she’d need to go someplace else to stock up on food. While the store did have all the essentials, the selection was limited. And the prices reflected that.

  She grabbed a basket and shuffled past several older people comparing oatmeal to grits. After a quick stroll around the store, she’d filled her basket with a few fresh ingredients, a jug of tea, a jug of milk, and a box of cereal. That should get her through tonight and all day tomorrow, if needed.

  She stepped up to the checkout, where a white-haired lady in a flowered pantsuit was arguing with the young woman behind the counter. “I’m eighty-one. I can buy and eat whatever I want.”

  “But Ms. Gilda, your grandson specifically told me not to sell you any junk food.”

  The older lady held up a king-size candy bar in protest. “It says dark chocolate. That’s heart healthy.”

  “Ms. Gilda, please, I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your grandson.”

  “Fine.” Ms. Gilda slammed the candy bar on the corner of the counter and crossed her arms.

  The young woman totaled the few vegetables she had and placed them in a paper bag. Gilda paid for her groceries, then snatched the bag with both hands and hobbled toward the exit, shaking her head.

  Samantha’s heart sank. She placed her own items on the counter, but focused on the older lady leaving.

  “That will be $32.51.”

  She turned to the cashier. The candy bar called to her from the edge of the counter. She picked it up. “Oh, my favorite. Add this please.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Samantha smiled to herself as the young woman scanned the chocolate and added it to her tab.

  “Thanks.” She paid, collected her two bags, and rushed out of the store.

  Once outside, she slid her sunglasses down over her eyes to shade her view and scanned the main area for Ms. Gilda. Most likely, she’d be headed away from the shops since she’d just bought groceries.

  A block of wildflowers was headed toward the entrance to Shady Palms. Samantha smiled. That had to be her. She picked up her pace, trying her best to balance two bags of groceries as she speed walked in sandals.

  She caught up to Gilda at the first turn into their neighborhood. Samantha tapped her on the shoulder. The woman spun around and slung up a hand in defense. Samantha jumped, dropping her bags.

  “Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry. I thought you were . . . well, I don’t know who I thought. But you startled me.”

  “It’s okay.” Samantha offered her a sympathetic face, then bent down to collect her groceries.

  “Let me help.” Gilda set her own bag on a nearby bench and started to bend down.

  Samantha feared she might not get back up if she made it to the ground. “How about you hold the bags for me?” She handed Gilda a bag. She filled the bag with items as Gilda held it. She saved the milk and tea for last and put those in the second bag so that Gilda wouldn’t have to hold them. “Thank you.”

  She retrieved the bag of food and shifted her drinks to free up a hand. She grabbed the candy bar and handed it to Gilda. “This is for you.”

  Gilda’s brow furrowed, then raised as a smile formed across her lips. “Is this why you tapped my shoulder?”

  She nodded. “I overheard your discussion with the clerk in the store.”

  Gilda put a feeble hand to her forehead. “Oh dear. How embarrassing.”

  “No, not at all. I agree with you, so I bought it for you.”

  Gilda’s smile spread across her entire face. “I think I like you, Miss . . .

  “Samantha.” She didn’t mention that she’d overheard Gilda’s name already, since the argument had embarrassed her so much.

  “Lovely. I’m Gilda.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gilda.”

  Gilda stepped toward the bench and hid the candy in her own bag before picking it up. “I’m headed home, but I’d love to have you over for dinner tonight. If you don’t have plans.”

  Samantha shrugged. Whatever this woman planned on cooking would taste better than the salad she was going to make. “I don’t have plans.”

  “Great. I live in this neighborhood—24 Palm Lane.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened. “I’m your neighbor. For the summer, I mean. I’m staying at the Richardsons’.”

  “Oh.” Gilda grinned. “Then I’ll walk you home.” She tottered toward the sidewalk leading down their block.

  Samantha slowed her pace to meet Gilda’s. Having Gilda as a neighbor made her like this place even more.

  Oliver plopped down on the couch and opened his laptop. He turned on the TV for background noise. Of course, Gigi had it on the game show channel. He shook his head and turned it to the fishing channel.

  Dishes clanked in the kitchen. He started to stand, but instead, he kicked off his flip-flops and propped his legs up on the couch. Gigi claimed her biggest blessing was regaining her independence in the kitchen. So as much as he wanted to make things easy for her, he let her loose when it came to cooking and setting the table. He’d rather check analytics and watch deep-sea fishing competitions anyway.

  No sooner than he’d perfected the position of the pillow behind his head, the doorbell rang. He sighed and swung his feet to the floor. “I really hope that’s Lewis coming to say he’ll work the chair stand tomorrow,” he said to himself, pausing the TV and setting his laptop on the coffee table.

  He trudged toward the door and swung it open to . . . “Samantha?”

  The look on her face said she was just as surprised to see him. “Are you working inside here?”

  He glanced at his laptop. “Something like that.”

  Her huge, dark eyes stared at him. Then she peeked around his shoulder. Of course, she wanted to come in. He stepped back for her to enter.

  Samantha walked a few steps inside the living room and craned her neck toward the hallway.

  “Looking for something?”

  “Ms. Gilda invited me for dinner.”

  Oliver blinked. He dropped his hand from the door. The wind shut it with a thud, and he flinched. How and when did she meet Gigi? He shook his head. “Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes at the opening to the kitchen. “Follow me.”

  He slid past Samantha, noting that her beachy scent had diminished since the first time they met. He also noticed how well she wore a pair of khaki shorts. Forcing his eyes to stay straight, he headed for the dining room.

  He stopped at the open entrance. “Gigi, your dinner guest has arrived.” He tried to keep his sarcasm to a minimum, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  “Oh, hello, dear.” Gigi placed the salad dish in the center of the table and looped an arm through Samantha’s, leading her to the head of the table. “Have a seat. We’ll eat in a minute.”

  “Thanks.” Samantha sat after Gigi dropped her arm.

  “Would you like tea, water, or lemonade?”

  “Tea is fine.” Samantha smiled, accenting where her cheeks had reddened from the sun.

  “Oliver, why don’t you fix our drinks?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to retrieve the pitcher of sweet tea.

  He gathered three glasses and filled them with ice. As he poured the tea, he checked his reflection in the microwave door beside him. He smoothed his hair best he could after it had sweated beneath his fishing hat half the day. Nothing like an impromptu hot guest to make him rethink his bachelor beach look. Ever since he’d started his own app-development business, he averaged wearing a sleeved shirt once a week to church. He sighed at his clothes and put the tea back in the refrigerator. Samantha had already met him twice in a wrinkled tank top and board shorts. So what was a third time gonna hurt?

  Laughter came from the dining room. Oliver walked in to Gigi sharing one of her favorite stories about her teen years. Samantha stared at Gigi wide-eyed, with her mouth half-open. Gigi’s face lit up at someone reacting this way. Maybe if she wouldn’t tell the same story over and over to Oliver and their neighbors, she’d get that reaction more often.

  He placed a glass in front of each of them and pulled out the chair beside Samantha, across from his grandma.

  “Thanks.” Samantha shifted toward the table and grinned. She sipped her tea. “This is good.”

  “I make the best sweet tea in all of Shady Palms. Right, grandson?”

  “Absolute—” Oliver cut his answer short when Samantha started choking on her drink. He patted her back with force. A stream of tea spewed from her mouth onto Gigi’s flowered tablecloth.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Gilda.”

  “Nonsense.” Gigi fisted a stack of napkins from the caddy in the center of the table and dropped them onto the liquid.

  Samantha pinched one from the top that hadn’t yet soaked in and used it to wipe her mouth. She turned to Oliver. “Grandson?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me when you answered the door?”

  Oliver shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

  Gigi’s eyes filled with mischief. “He’s a man of few words.” She reached around the soiled napkins and patted Oliver’s arm. “But he takes good care of me.”

  Samantha turned to Gigi, then back to Oliver.

  Oliver leaned back in his chair. Food. That should get the focus off him. “How about I say the blessing so we can eat.”

  “Go ahead, sugar britches.” Gigi folded her hands and closed her eyes. Samantha dropped her gaze to the table.

  Oliver voiced a quick prayer, watching Samantha from the corner of his eye. “Amen.” He l
ifted his head and reached for the stack of plates to his left. He handed one to Gigi, then Samantha. His hand grazed Samantha’s just long enough to heighten his pulse. He let go of the plate and cleared his throat.

  “Help yourself, dear. We’re informal around here,” Gigi said.

  Oliver laughed. Gigi’s definition of informal paled in comparison to his.

  “What’s so funny?” Gigi narrowed her eyes.

  “We’re eating a full spread of food on ceramic plates in a dining room. Hardly informal.”

  “Well, we’re serving ourselves and using paper napkins.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes and laughed. “Speaking of napkins, I’ll get more.”

  He grabbed the wad of tea-soaked napkins and headed toward the kitchen. Gigi mumbled something to Samantha about how he didn’t grow up in Alabama. Memphis wasn’t considered Southern to Gigi.

  He trashed the napkins and wiped his hands. Then he pulled a handful from the pantry. Both women had fixed their plates when he returned.

  “Here you go.” Oliver handed a napkin to Gigi and dropped one beside Samantha’s plate. He didn’t need another accidental touch.

  The next half hour flowed like molasses as Samantha filled them in on her reason for coming to Shady Palms. She’d taught school with Mrs. Richardson before she and her husband retired to the coast. This summer, she planned on completing her dissertation on dolphin migration.

  Oliver couldn’t help but smile as Samantha spouted off random facts about dolphins. None of what she said interested him. But the way she said it was adorable. Kind of like how he geeked out over coding and spreadsheets.

  When they cleared their plates, Gigi stood and started collecting them. Oliver ate two servings of everything as usual. One major perk to living with Gigi.

  He studied Samantha while Gigi carried the dishes to the kitchen. She picked at her short fingernails a second before beaming up at him. He returned the smile. What could he say to compliment her that wouldn’t come off as cheesy . . . or creepy?

  As Oliver rolled words around in his mind, Gigi reappeared with her hands behind her back. “Time for dessert.”

  “It’s not Sunday.”

  “I know that.”

  Oliver crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at his grandma. He’d instituted a once-a-week dessert rule in order to keep her sugar in check. After undergoing chemo treatments, her doctor had stressed the importance in balancing her sugar and cholesterol levels. It was either take away her desserts or her sweet tea. And Gigi’d rather die than switch to unsweetened tea. She’d told him on several occasions.

  “This is a treat.” Gigi lifted a hand to reveal a candy bar half as long as her forearm.

  “No, ma’am.” Oliver sneered at her.

  “You’re not my doctor.”

  “But I’m you’re caretaker.”

  “I don’t need a caretaker. I made this meal all by myself.”

  Oliver sucked in a breath and exhaled through his nostrils.

  “Samantha bought this for me, and I’m going to eat it.”

  Oliver jerked his head toward Samantha. She slumped her shoulders and picked at her cuticles. “I should go.” She stood.

  “You don’t have to leave, dear.” Gigi held Samantha’s hand.

  Samantha met Gigi’s gaze. She patted Gigi’s hand with her other one and then dropped it. “Dinner was amazing. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.” Then she turned on her heels and walked out. A minute later, the front door shut.

  Gigi turned to him. “Oliver Donaldson. How dare you cause a scene like that in front of our guest.”

  Oliver slinked down in his chair. Instead of six foot two, he felt two foot six. “I’m trying to do what’s best.”

  Gigi scowled, then ripped open the candy wrapper with her teeth. He cringed. She shouldn’t put force on her teeth like that. The last thing he needed was to help her take care of dentures. He stood, but she bit a huge chunk of the chocolate bar before he could round the table. That’s all she would get.

  He stepped toward her and grabbed it from her hand. She might have him beat in age and wisdom, but he won when it came to strength.

  Oliver stormed toward the living room and gathered his laptop. With the candy in one hand and his computer in the other, he entered his bedroom and shut the door with his foot.

  He put the computer on his desk and sat in his office chair. He examined the half-eaten bar. Was that peanuts? He bit off a piece and savored the salty and sweet combination. Yep, definitely peanuts, and caramel.

  He indulged his taste buds in the remainder of the candy. Better for him to eat it than let it go to waste. He was reaching to shut off his computer when an idea struck.

  Oliver tossed the wrapper in the trash can by his feet and licked his fingertips. An app that checked health stats by fingerprint. And, if he had time, maybe an app that alerted him when Samantha was in close proximity of his Gigi. Brilliant. Time to get to work.

  Chapter Three

  Samantha slipped her feet into her comfiest flip-flops. She strolled to the kitchen and poured a mug full of coffee, adding some milk and stirring it vigorously. The swirling liquid made her smile. In a few hours, she’d be diving under the ocean, possibly nose-to-nose with dolphins.

  She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and migrated to the front porch. The morning breeze washed across her face as she rocked in one of the wicker chairs. She propped her feet against the porch railing and sipped her coffee. Eyes closed, she savored the warm liquid tickling her tongue and the wind tickling her cheeks. Nothing could ruin this day.

  Several minutes passed, with birds chirping and wind chimes jingling from the neighbor’s porch. It was so peaceful, Samantha swore she heard dolphin calls. Then they grew louder.

  She dropped her legs and sat straighter, peeking her eyes open. It was dolphin noises. Just in the form of her generic ring tone. She sighed and answered. “Hello?”

  “Uh, yeah, Samantha?”

  Samantha leaned back in her chair and peeled her banana. “This is she.”

  “Sweet. This is Shipman.”

  She stared at her phone. Shipman? Kara or Raven better not have given her number out to some random guy again.

  “Shipman from See the Sea?”

  See the Sea? Oh. Her eyes widened as the name registered in the back of her mind. “Oh, yes. The dive-boat captain. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. But my co-captain is hung over, man.”

  “What?”

  “My partner in crime. He got in a little too much crime last night. And . . .” His voice trailed off into a chuckle.

  She frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Uh, yeah. Well, we have to delay your dive. There’s just the two of us, and you can’t go down alone.”

  She shot up from her chair. It rocked forward, spilling her coffee to the ground. Samantha grunted at the mess and shook her head. “I have my certifications. I’m perfectly capable of going down alone.”

  “Yeah, my insurance won’t allow that.”

  Samantha bit her tongue so hard, it numbed. She wanted to scream that someone with a drunken co-captain who spoke like a millennial hipster shouldn’t care about insurance. But she kept her cool.

  “Mr. Shipman, I need to go down today. I had planned to collect samples to work on the rest of the week. Please. I’ll tow the surface-marker buoy myself.”

  “Yeah, uh . . . I still need someone to go down. You got a friend who can go down with you?”

  Samantha pinched the bridge of her nose and stared at the coffee stream drying in the sunlight. She lifted her gaze to Oliver strutting up the sidewalk. Should she? “Mr. Shipman? Can I call you right back?”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Great. Give me a few minutes.” She hung up the phone and dropped her uneaten banana on her chair. She descended the porch two steps at a time, meeting Oliver at the entrance to Gilda’s yard.

  “Well, good morning.” He smiled and nodded.

  Her eyes grazed up and down, noting the tightness of his T-shirt and the beads of sweat around his neckline. She’d noticed his biceps before, but his wrinkled tank tops did nothing to highlight his obviously toned abs.

  “Can I help you?”

  She swallowed. Her own neck began to sweat. Ugh. He’d caught her gawking at him. She should turn and run inside. But he was her best shot at a diving partner. Who else could she ask around here? Although . . . many of her neighbors already had their own oxygen tanks. She shook her head.