Page 3 of Sand in My Boots

“Cameron!”

Looking up, I spot one of the guests. I’ve never been good with names, but I don’t forget faces. She and her fiancé are getting married this weekend. Normally, I’m not involved with any part of weddings here at Whispering Tide, but they needed a boat rental for the ceremony. I’m not sure whose idea it was for a cruise to the ceremony for the groom and his groomsmen, but it wasn’t a request I couldn’t oblige. Though the man’s face was green nearly talking about being on the boat. Should make for an interesting entrance, something I’ll make sure not to miss.

I stride closer to where she stands with her fiancé and another woman. My eyes scan up the back of the unfamiliar guest. Floral leggings cling to the toned legs, leading to a trimmed waist. A hoodie’s tied around her waist, covering the way the leggings must mold to her ass. The graphic on the back of her T-shirt touts something about “book boyfriends.” Her hair’s pulled off her exposed neck in a sloppy bun. I try to decipher the length, but it’s nearly impossible with the way it’s twisted.

Stopping a few feet from the group of three, the woman spins around. Fully turned toward me, she gasps, the sound achingly familiar. I take in the rest of her expression—wide, light brown eyes, petite nose, rosy cheeks. She has a recognizable quality about her, almost as if I knew her in the past. My eyes squint as I work to put the pieces of the puzzle together. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she kinda looks like a feminine, blond version of our CFO . . .

The realization of who she is forces my feet backward. Catching myself from falling, I’m definitely not prepared for this grown-up version of Juliana Langley.

“Came.” The nickname is but a whisper on her glossed lips. And it brings me back to the past, a time in my youth I’d all but forgotten. Though not on purpose. No, I didn’t try to put all things Juliana behind me. It kinda happened over the years.

“Juliana?” Her name gets caught in my throat, a name I haven’t muttered in over a decade. Possibly closer to fourteen years.

“Ju-Juli,” she stutters, her own name a surprise to her.

My brain tries to reconcile the woman in front of me with Juliana, my friend’s kid sister. Though she wasn’t much younger than me, she was definitely Preston’s “little” sister in all ways.

Until she wasn’t.

I snap out of my trance, pulling her into me. She stiffens but doesn’t put up a fight, coming easily into my arms. Deflecting away the memories of the past, I resort to frivolous humor. It’s what I know best.

“How the hell are you? What are you doing here? Does Preston know you’re here?”

“Um, Juli? Do you know this man who’s accosting you? I know he works here, but if you need me to call security on him, I will.”

Eyes as slits, I slide my gaze to the bride. Call security on me? At a resort I not only work at, but have an ownership share? Isn’t it clear she knows me?

A deep chuckle rumbles from behind her. “I think she’s good, babe.”

Exactly. She’s good. We do not need security.

Juli stays in my arms for a few seconds, her body never letting go of the tension. It should be more off-putting than it is. I can’t read into what exactly that means before my arms are suddenly empty.

“I’m here for the wedding of these two. Figured I’d surprise Preston.” Her lips press into a firm line before she adds, “And you, too. Surprise. It’s been so long.”

The other woman steps closer. She addresses me, but her focus stays on Juli. “How do you know each other?”

Juli doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “From when we were kids. He’s one of Preston’s friends. Another owner of the resort.”

Her attention swinging toward me, the woman’s gasp is louder than Juli’s from moments ago. “You own this place? I thought you were the recreation director. My bad.” The tone of her voice contradicts her actual words. She’s not sorry in the slightest. Which normally wouldn’t bother me.

I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not, but I play the part of “owner of a luxury five-star resort” well. Mostly because my share of ownership came from an anonymous investor, who I’m positive is Preston, though he denies it every time. Yet, he’s the only person who it could be, the only person in the world to offer me this opportunity of a lifetime a few years ago.

“Guilty.” I stick my hand out to shake hers. “Cameron Fairbanks, pleased to make your acquaintance.” I’m hopeful she’ll take my outstretched hand. Though we’ve technically been introduced, wheels are turning in her head, trying to make sense of this new information she’s gleaned. I’d like to be able to remember her name.

Finally, she grasps my awkwardly awaiting hand and pumps it up and down once. “Nice to meet you. Again.” To my chagrin, she doesn’t offer her name. Instead, she goes back to Juli. “Lunch? Or do you want to get settled in your room first and then meet us down by the pool in a bit?”

Juli hedges her answer. I can’t be certain it’s on my account, but on the slim chance it is, I give her an out. “It was great to see you, Juliana. Maybe we can grab a drink while you’re here. Catch up on our lives.”

A tinge of pink dots her cheeks, and the tip of her tongue darts out of her mouth. I only notice it because my eyes are trained on her glossy lips.

Her head bobs first. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Her lips widen into a grin.

“Great. I’ll find you.” I don’t wait for a response, nor say goodbye to her friends. Probably not my best move, but this unexpected run-in with Juli has me a bit rattled.

No, more than a bit.

A lot rattled.