new dress. While we were there, I talked him into a new outfit of his own. With
our new clothes, it felt only right we should be completely pampered with new
hairstyles and facials. Thomas was so excited about his new look that I had to talk him out of an evening in downtown San Diego.
“T, I promised my mother I’d stop by a beach party to help out,” I lied.
“Ok, drop me off at home. I want to surprise Jacob with my new look.” He
waggled his eyebrows at me.
“It’ll be quick, and Mom will be overjoyed to see your new outfit. Then, I’ll
bring you home.”
Parking was a nightmare. I hadn’t realized the number of guests invited.
Finally, I found a spot. As we walked the half-mile back towards the beach, I was relieved we didn’t run into anyone Thomas knew.
“I’m going to be all sweaty, and my hair is going to be flat,” Thomas grumbled.
“You look great. Now, hurry up so we can check in and go,” I commanded.
As we approached the event, Thomas stopped. “Isn’t that Jacob?”
“Is it?” I smirked and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go find out.”
My mother saw Thomas and motioned to someone. The next thing we knew,
we were surrounded by a mariachi band. Jacob stepped through the costumed men, carrying a small cake with a long candle.
“Happy Birthday, Baby,” Jacob called out.
“You did all this for me?” Thomas beamed.
“Nothing is too good for my man,” Jacob kissed him tenderly.
Soon the crowd rushed in with birthday wishes. I stepped back, watching as
the birthday boy dove into his celebration. Settled in a beach chair, I watched the waves crashing and mellowed to the sound of the party.
“The thing that stinks about beach parties is the sand.” A man stepped in front of me and began to frantically brush off the offending rock particles. “Would you mind getting it off my back?”
“Um, sure,” I hesitated.
“I promise this is not a pickup line,” the blonde-haired man beamed at me.
My breath caught as I got a good look at him. Blond hair, blue eyes, athletic, and charming.
“Ok, turn around,” I said. Gently, I began to brush my hand over his muscled
body. A weird sensation ran through me. I wanted to run my hands through his
silky hair.
Slow down, Caitlyn. You’re not that girl anymore, I scolded myself.
“Thanks for the help. Forgive my bad manners. I’m Jeremy Whittaker, and you are?”
“Caitlyn. Caitlyn Chase,” I stammered like a fool.
“My date dragged me to this event, and I don’t know anyone here.” He motioned to a blonde girl behind us who was dancing in the center of a group of
men.
“Oh, she seems —”
“Yeah, Lisa is… well, she’s a party girl. A bit fast for my taste,” he admitted.
“Mind keeping me company until I get to escort her home?”
Over the next few hours, I learned everything there was to know about Jeremy Whittaker. Twenty-five. Bachelor of Science in Kinesiology and Health
and a master’s degree in Finance. He told me how he planned on being a personal trainer until he fell in love with the stock market.
His enthusiasm was contagious. Jeremy had plans for his future, not just living off his inheritance. Our conversation was easy, and I was disappointed when it ended.
