Shark Bite Read online

  Shark Bite

  Romance in Rehoboth #7

  K. L. Montgomery

  Mountains Wanted Publishing

  Copyright © 2020 by K.L. Montgomery

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Mountains Wanted Publishing

  P.O. Box 1014

  Georgetown, DE 19947

  www.mountainswanted.com

  Cover design by the author

  Editing and proofreading by Mountains Wanted Indie Author Services

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Untitled

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Untitled

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by K.L. Montgomery

  To the men of the Delmarva Rugby Club, who literally taught me everything I know about rugby. Except for those last-minute Google searches when I was writing this book.

  Shark’s 80s Playlist

  Tears for Fears - “Everybody Wants to Rule the World”

  Wham! - “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”

  REO Speedwagon - “Can’t Fight This Feeling”

  The Clash - “Should I Stay Or Should I Go”

  Madonna - “Crazy For You”

  Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time”

  Michael Jackson - “Beat It”

  Hall & Oates - “Maneater”

  Pat Benatar - “We Belong”

  Prince - “Purple Rain”

  Whitney Houston - “Saving All My Love For You”

  Simple Minds - “Don’t You (Forget About Me)”

  Bonnie Tyler - “Total Eclipse of the Heart”

  1

  “It’s just a friendly little get-together,” my best friend Lindy says as she surveys my closet. “You’re putting way too much thought into this. Throw on some clothes and some lipstick, and let’s get outta here.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I turn and look at her with her pregnant glow. “You have the best accessories ever: a doting husband and an adorable baby bump.”

  “Baby bump?” She waves her hand dismissively, then rubs her growing abdomen. “More like an extra roll on my belly.”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re really starting to look pregnant now!” I reach out to touch the bump, my absolute favorite thing to do—since I seem to have no chance of having a bump of my own in the near future—but Lindy steps back.

  “Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “now can we go? Meric is going to panic if we’re late. You know how anal accountants are. Everything needs to happen precisely on time. He’s going to be a real joy if this baby doesn’t come by his due date.”

  “All I heard out of that is ‘anal.’” I giggle as my best friend rolls her eyes yet again. She probably has a ginormous headache after she hangs out with me, you know, from all the eye rolling. “Look, Lindy, I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m a divorced thirty-six-year-old. My beauty and youth are quickly fading. It’s time for me to find a man before it’s too damn late.”

  “Oh, stop it!” She grabs a dress out of the closet and tosses it to me. I’m not really in a dress kind of mood, but showing a little leg might be in my best interests tonight. “Ryan and Shark will be there, you know…”

  I freeze next to the closet. Ryan and Shark are her husband Meric’s best buddies. The fourth amigo is Jason, who got married last year to an amazing lady named Hannah, who is also knocked up. I swear there’s something in the water here in southern Delaware. Anyway, circling back to Lindy’s efforts to hurry me up, Ryan and Shark are the two remaining bachelors in our little circle of friends. However, as I’ve told Lindy countless times, both of them are deeply committed to maintaining their bachelor status for the foreseeable future.

  “Yeah, well, Shark and I have been there, done that, and Ryan is just too…beta…for me.” I wrinkle up my nose in disgust. I like a nice, strong alpha guy. Shark fits the bill in that regard—I mean, would a beta guy be named Shark? I think not.

  “How long has it been since you and Shark hooked up?” She watches me pull down my shorts and step into the dress she handed me.

  “When did we do Yo Ho Rehoboth? Two years ago?” I tap my chin as I try to remember the musical Lindy and I starred in—the one she walked away from with a boyfriend, and I only got a one-night stand out of the deal. Was that really two summers ago? That’s the other problem with thirty-six. My memory is already shot. I feel like I’m going to be senile in another decade at the rate I’m going.

  She nods, her face getting even glowy-er, if that’s possible. “Wow, Meric and I have been together for two years now…” She wistfully stares off in the general direction of my bathroom. How romantic.

  “Shark and I…that was a one-time thing,” I remind her.

  “But you said he was amazing.” Lindy looks exasperated as I pull up the top of the dress and arrange my rather endowed chest in the bodice, which is smocked and clings to the girls.

  “He was amazing. All those muscles…” I try to keep my breathing calm and steady as I recount Shark’s positive attributes. “That tongue. Those hands. That—”

  Her dark eyebrows arch. “So, then, what’s the problem?”

  “Shark doesn’t see women as…”

  Lindy shrugs. “As what?”

  “As women,” I continue. “He sees them more like fun toys he can take out of the toybox to play with on occasion; then he tosses them aside when he gets tired of them.”

  My best friend frowns as she considers what I’ve said. “Well, you do deserve better than that…”

  “Thank you!” I fluff my brunette locks around my shoulders and take a quick peek in the mirror over my dresser. I recently cut six inches off my almost waist-length red hair and went back to my natural color. I’m still not used to it. Maybe Shark won’t even recognize me?

  Why do I get a little thrill even wondering if he will?

  Lindy follows me out my bedroom door and down the hall. “You know,” she says, still trailing behind me, “you could use a toy in your toybox too…”

  I scoff. “I have toys, thank you very much.”

  “One that looks like Shark?”

  “Well, no…” A harrumph puffs out of my mouth, which seems like the appropriate response when your best friend implies you need to get laid.

  “I’m just sayin’…” Lindy shrugs when I turn around to glare at her. “It’s a great stress reliever!”

  “So says the pregnant lady…”

  “Well, how do you think I got this way?”

  “Happy birthday, Meric!” I give him a little peck on the cheek. “What are you, like, sixty now?”

  We always make fun of him for being old because he can be so serious, and, out all of us, he’s definitely the most grown-up. In actuality, I’m pretty sure he’s only a couple years older than I am.

  “Hardy har har, Megan, always such a little jokester.” He shakes his head in mild amusement.

  “That would be jokestress,” I retort, pretending to be offended.

  “How’s the PR biz?” Meric asks, once again turning on serious mode. It’s like he can’t help himself.

  “Oh, it’s going. It’s definitel
y more exciting than being a pharmacy tech!” I’d worked for my parents’ little mom-and-pop pharmacy off and on since I was in high school, getting certified as a pharmacy tech as soon as I graduated. And I realized after about fifteen years of doing that—it wasn’t at all what I wanted to do. So I went back to school, got a degree in marketing, and now I work for a PR firm here in Rehoboth Beach. We have a ton of clients in the tourism and hospitality industry, and I have officially found my calling in life.

  “Heads up,” he says, leaning down toward me.

  My ears prick up. “Heads up” doesn’t sound like something Meric Chandler would normally say. I immediately wonder if this is something Lindy put him up to.

  “…Shark may ask you about some ideas for his rugby team,” Meric finishes.

  All I heard was “Shark.”

  “What do you mean?” I wrinkle up my nose. “I don’t know anything about rugby.”

  “Well,” Meric tries to explain, “you don’t need to for this. They’re having a bit of an image problem and are trying to reboot their team, get new sponsorships, and so on.”

  “I see…” I immediately picture a group of tattooed, muscly bad boys who all look like Shark. Well, he’s got my attention, that’s for sure. And my boss would love it if I brought her some new business.

  “But he might not be forward enough to ask you,” Meric warns.

  “Forward enough?” I scoff. “What the hell does that mean? He plays rugby, for crying out loud. Haven’t you ever seen the rugby shirts that say ‘Give blood: play rugby’?”

  “Yes, but—”

  I cut him off, “And it’s not like I’m unapproachable!”

  I work in PR. I’m definitely approachable.

  Meric nods in agreement. “You definitely are, and I know rugby players are supposed to be the epitome of masculinity, but asking for help is not exactly Shark’s forte.”

  A sigh puffs out of my lips because I’ve gotten that vibe from him too. He’s standoffish. Walls firmly up. He’d have to lose some of that alpha cockiness to actually ask me for help. Heaven forbid he show weakness to a woman, of all creatures!

  “Well, in any case, I’m warning you, he may say something to you tonight. Go easy on him, okay?”

  Like I would ever go easy on a guy like Shark, but I pat Meric on the shoulder reassuringly. “Anything for you, Mer.”

  He laughs and grabs my hand that’s still resting on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks, Meg.”

  Lindy grabs me by the arm and pulls me over to where she’s hanging out with some of our other friends, including the aforementioned Hannah, who is married to Meric’s friend Jason, plus Claire Reilly and Sonnet Clark.

  “You’re not going to believe this!” The words burst out of Lindy’s mouth like she’s about to tell me I’ve won a million dollars.

  “What?” I look from her to Hannah, who, as I said earlier, is also pregnant, to Claire and Sonnet. Claire directed the Yo Ho Rehoboth musical I referenced before, and Sonnet is married to Drew Clark, who helped Claire’s husband, Jack, direct the music for the show. Every last face is beaming with a smile. So whatever it is must be good news.

  It’s probably not me winning a million dollars, I realize with a bit of a letdown.

  “Sonnet is expecting too!” Lindy cheers. “Can you believe it?”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic.” I turn toward the athletic-looking Sonnet, whose hair is pulled back in her trademark ponytail. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks! Drew and I are really excited—and nervous!”

  “Well, Claire, guess we’re the only ones who haven’t drunk the water around here, huh?” I joke with Claire as she sips a drink that is most definitely alcoholic.

  “Nope, no buns in my oven!” Claire confirms. “I’m too old for that crap.”

  You’d never know it by looking at her, but her son is starting college soon. Her husband, Jack, has a daughter in elementary school.

  “Brynne and Chris are still trying,” Sonnet shares, glancing at the door. “I wanted to tell you guys before she gets here. Sorry, I feel weird. I mean, I’ll tell her in private later, probably. So just keep it quiet for now, okay?”

  We all nod and murmur our agreement when I see Jason, Ryan, and Shark come in a side door from the other room where there are pool tables. It’s been a long while since the gang has all been together. It’s August now, and I believe Claire and Jack hosted a cookout on the Fourth of July, as is their tradition. That must have been the last time we all hung out. Summer has flown by.

  “Hey, ladies,” Ryan says, giving hugs all around. He’s the touchy-feely type.

  My eyes snap to Shark, and he gives me a curt nod, then works up a half-smile for Lindy and Hannah. I don’t think he knows Claire and Sonnet all that well. I expect him to pull me aside to at least butter me up with small talk, but nope, he heads over to Meric and the other guys. Ryan and Jason follow him, but first Jason plants a little kiss on his wife’s cheek. They are too adorable for words.

  “So when are you due?” I ask, turning to Sonnet. She’s one of those ladies who’ll have the most annoyingly round basketball under her shirt—but not until she’s a good eight months along.

  “January first,” she says. “I know, it’s crazy, right?”

  “But isn’t that before Lindy is due?” I scrunch up my nose. She’s been holding in this news for four months, and she doesn’t even look remotely preggers yet.

  She shrugs. “We wanted to make extra sure. You know. Ultrasounds. Genetic testing. All that.”

  “I still can’t believe Drew was able to keep it secret that long!” Claire interjects. “Oh, you guys are going to have so much fun expecting together. None of my girlfriends were pregnant when I had Elliott back in the day. I had to go through it all alone, and it sucked donkey ass.”

  We all laugh. Claire always has a way with words. Before I can confirm with Lindy that Sonnet is due almost a full month ahead of her, Jack stands up and lets out a sharp, ear-piercing whistle to get everyone’s attention.

  “I want to propose a toast to the man of the hour, Meric. Happy birthday, buddy! May the numbers be ever in your favor,” he says, making a reference to Meric’s accountant job. And a Hunger Games joke too, I think?

  We all raise our glasses and murmur, “Hear, hear.”

  After the server comes along, takes our dinner order, and refills everyone’s drinks, we gradually migrate toward the long table set up for us in the back room. I sit next to Lindy and keep expecting Shark to take the seat next to me so he can chat me up, but he sits clear at the opposite end. What is his problem? I try to avoid looking at him while Lindy and Claire engage me in conversation about another musical that’s in the works. I played a sea witch in their last production, so I guess you could say I’m pretty talented.

  I can’t seem to pay attention, though, because my eyes keep roaming over to Shark. He’s shaved off his beard since the Fourth of July shindig. I’ve never seen him without it, but it’s summer, and I imagine it gets pretty damn hot under all that hair. The slightest dark stubble outlines his jaw, and it’s sexy as hell. His skin is tan, and his eyes are a stormy blue, the color of the Atlantic when a front is rolling in. His arms are massive, the band of his t-shirt digging into his biceps and covering up most of a huge tattoo of a shark on his shoulder. There are plenty of smaller tattoos, a whole network of them down his arm, everything from tribal markings to a sea dragon to a pirate skull. His arms are works of art. I glance down at the small purple and teal butterfly tattoo on my inner wrist. It looks pitiful in comparison to the masterpieces on his arms.

  A second later, his eyes shift up to meet mine, and I’m caught in the act of staring. I expect him to nod or smirk, or something, but instead, he drills his gaze right into me, boring through my eyes like they’re made of glass.

  What does a man like Shark see when he looks at me?

  His best friend’s wife’s best friend?

  A girl he had a fling with tw
o summers ago?

  An up-and-coming publicist who might be able to help him with his rugby team’s PR problem?

  It’s hard to say, but I don’t find the answers in his stormy eyes.

  2

  Megan Adams.

  This girl has always been somewhat of a thorn in my side. Or maybe she’s more like a magnet. I’m not really sure how to classify her, but she’s hot in an opinionated, hyperactive, loud sort of way. The first thing I notice about her tonight is her hair. It’s shorter and not the vibrant red I remember, a shade that made her pale skin glow. Maybe she’s trying to blend in better?

  But a woman like Megan could never blend in.

  “Hey, you want another beer?” Ryan asks, leaning over toward me.

  “Yeah, okay. You buying?” I flash my buddy a smile.

  “Yeah, I know you’ve had a crap week. I’ll buy the next round.” He pats my shoulder. “Gettin’ one for the birthday boy too.”

  “Good deal.” I scrub my hand down my face as my gaze flicks over to Megan again. Wonder if she noticed the beard is gone? I just shaved it a few days ago, and I already miss it. I feel so exposed now, and that is not a feeling I enjoy—at all.

  Back to Megan. We have a history, and it’s not only that our best friends are married to each other. A couple years ago when we first met, we hooked up. I hate to admit it, but it was probably the most intense sex I’ve ever had. I wanted to do it again…and again…but Megan made it pretty clear she was looking for a relationship.