Page 1 of Sand in My Boots

Chapter 1

Juli

“We’ve landed. It’s our turn to exit the plane.” The older woman next to me, who was prepared to talk my ear off during the flight until I feigned sleep in the first ten minutes, smiles with a friendly grin. She motions her hand, making sure I understand what she’s told me.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” The seatbelt unfastened, I stand up, careful not to hit my head. Though her expression remains pleasant, she seems to be in a rush. I step into the aisle. “Here, you go ahead. I’ve got to gather my stuff.”

It’s a lie. I already organized all my belongings when the plane began its descent. She’s thrilled to move past me, though it’s slow because she’s old and on the heavier side, so she has to squeeze herself out between the seats. She pauses a moment, almost to catch her breath, before looking up at the overhead bin. Before I can offer my assistance—if that’s indeed what she’s waiting for—a gentleman my dad’s age jumps into action.

Saved from having to help, I scoot back into my row and wait while he assists her with her luggage. Once she’s started down the aisle, I swipe my suitcase from the overhead bin and make my way to the front of the plane.

I’m relieved we’re here. Though the hour flight wasn’t long, it was a little bumpy and unsettling.

Or maybe it’s me who’s unsettled.

“Thanks for flying with us today. Have a great afternoon.” The pilot looks harried. I bet he’s glad to be on solid ground. Like I said, it wasn’t the smoothest ride.

“Thanks for managing to fly us safely,” I mumble as I pass, continuing on my journey to my final destination. Bypassing baggage claim, I follow the signs to arrivals to locate my pre-arranged ride.

While I’m looking forward to this week away, the wedding of a good friend, and seeing my brother after way too long, I’m not sure I’m ready to see him yet. And knowing Cameron Fairbanks is co-owner and recreation director at Whispering Tide Resort, I’m thinking I can’t avoid him the entire time.

The minute my college friend Erica mentioned she was getting married on one of Charleston’s barrier islands, I knew she’d chosen Whispering Tide. Who wouldn’t? It’s gorgeous. Five-star accommodations, world-renowned food, a beautiful on-site wedding venue, right on the beach. Are there other resorts in the area to get married? No doubt, but hands-down, Whispering Tide is the nicest. The most elegant. The one my brother, Preston, also happens to be a co-owner of. For all I know, he could own over half the resort by now. If memory serves, there are four owners in total—Preston, Cameron, and two other guys Preston roped into going into business with him. I’ve yet to meet them.

All of my information about the resort comes from pictures Preston sends and the website. My sister Elisa and I planned to go for opening weekend three years ago, but I ended up with the flu the morning we were supposed to leave, and because our parents had already left, she was the lucky one who got to stay behind and take care of me. Good thing I was pretty much out of it, since Elisa isn’t the “take care of sick people” type.

I’m super stoked to surprise Preston because I didn’t tell him I was coming. He’d pretend to make time for me but really wouldn’t. With me there, on his turf, I won’t rest until I get at least a dinner with him. On him, of course. It’s only reasonable. My smile deepens at the thought of sitting at the table with him, enjoying an entire meal with the man I haven’t seen in a while.

Success and Preston Langley go hand-in-hand. He’s crazy successful and rich—takes after our grandparents in that regard—but the man doesn’t know how not to work. To take a break. To, god forbid, take a day off. He hasn’t been home to Georgia in years, not since Whispering Tide opened, but it was probably years before that. For as long as I haven’t seen Preston, it’s been longer since I’ve seen Cameron.

Cameron Fairbanks, the boy of my teenage fantasies. The one who stayed with us for a week a few summers of my youth. The one who thought of me only as his friend’s younger sibling. Except for the one time . . .

I shake my head, letting go of the memories of the summers he visited. Cameron crosses my mind only during the summer months. Otherwise, the idea of him is locked up tight in a box in the recesses of my brain. Under a lock with a lost key.

My eyes scan the Charleston airport, noting the stark differences between Atlanta and this one. Other than college and vacations with Mom and Dad when I was a kid, I travel little by plane. Once Elisa joined our family, traveling was limited. For reasons only because she was a tough baby and toddler, and vacations with her weren’t relaxing in the slightest. I’d like to say she’s changed, considering she’s always taking off, jet-setting here and there all over the globe, but she travels alone.

Extracting my sunglasses from my backpack, I slip them over my eyes the minute I step outside into the mid-August, sultry eighty-degree heat. Though the temperature isn’t much different from Georgia, it seems more stifling, the humidity thick like a blanket with the proximity to the ocean. Thankfully, I spot a sign with my last name, and I scurry over.

“I’m Juli Langley.” I hold out my hand to shake the driver’s extended one.

“Juli.” His Jamaican accent is thick. “I drive you to resort.” After a quick shake, he pops open the trunk of the car. “You take seat in car. I take your bag.” He’s already reaching for the handle of my suitcase before I know what’s happening.

Rather than stand on the curb awkwardly, I open the back door of the town car, a blast of crisp, cool air hitting my face, a direct contrast to the oppressive air. The cool leather of the seat radiates through my leggings as I slide along, pulling my backpack next to me. The door shutting makes me jump slightly.

Why am I so twitchy?

Cameron Fairbanks.

For a minute, I close my eyes, allowing myself to remember the boy of my youth. The way his spring green eyes often studied me, looking beyond the surface of what I portrayed to the world. The sound of his laugh, deep and from the gut. The way he always got me to see the fun in everything, but not in a bad way. That wasn’t Cameron’s nature. He liked to joke and laugh, even at himself when the mood called for it. He differed from the boys I grew up with, and not only because he was a Northerner and didn’t come from wealth.

I wonder what he looks like now.

The thought of the man he is now opens my eyes.

“We go now. Buckle up.”

The driver’s reminder forces me to obey. It’s not until he speeds away do I realize there’s more than one meaning to his message.

Nearly an hour later, we’re pulling up to the front of the Whispering Tide resort. The palm trees sway in the slight breeze, and my white knuckles on the door handle finally loosen. Too busy being awed by the beauty in view, I temporarily forget the nerves of seeing Cameron.