Seth

  SETH

  The Barringer Brothers Series

  Tess Oliver

  Seth

  Copyright© 2015 by Tess Oliver

  Cover Design by: Nikki Hensley

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chatper 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  The Barringer Brothers

  Tess Oliver

  Chapter 1

  Seth

  “Seth, stand here and take a deep breath.”

  I stepped out onto the bike path where Rocko was waiting and sucked in a long breath. It had less of a diesel and tar smell than down at the port, but the same tangy ocean air filled my lungs. After a tour in the navy, where I’d learned my skills as an underwater welder, I’d spent a lot of time either living on boats or near the water, so living on the beach for the summer felt like home.

  I glanced over at Rocko. His beer belly had filled out more, and he’d let his beard grow long since we’d taken to land. For six months, Rocko and I had been partnering on a welding job in the Port of Los Angeles, working on dock and barge repair. After some deep, long duration dives we were both advised to stay on land for awhile. Too many dives with no break in between made a welder more susceptible to the bends, a painful and sometimes deadly hazard that came with the job.

  In that time at the port, I’d come to really like Rocko. I’d never met anyone more laid back and he was always happy, even when things weren’t great and there was no real reason to be happy. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of myself.

  “So?” he asked expectantly, “what do you smell?”

  “Onion rings?”

  His smile flattened some. “Well, yeah, that too. That would be the diner down at the end of the pier. They make great food, dripping with grease.” He waved his arm out over the sand. “I’m talking about the fragrance of bikini weather. I know it’s only early June, but it’s out there on that warm, salty breeze, the promise of skimpy swimsuits and major skinage.”

  “Skinage? Never thought of it like that.” Another reason I liked the guy, like me, he had an extreme fondness for the female sex.

  We walked back toward the house. I’d stayed behind with a small crew to finish work at the port while Rocko had headed up the coast. He’d found us both a nice paying welding gig near the beach, the perfect summer job, good pay, dry land and, as he’d already mentioned, bikinis.

  He’d found us a rundown little house that looked as if it was tilting to one side on its foundation. It smelled ripe with mold, but it was right on the beach, which made it fucking awesome.

  “We’ve got this place for three months. The owner returns in September. I figure all I need is a comfy beach chair and a large ice chest, and after work I can spend all afternoon right here in this yard watching the double D beauty of summer bounce down that boardwalk.” He pointed to a rusty pipe and showerhead standing out over the path. “And an extra bonus— the only beach shower for three lifeguard towers is right in front of our house. Gives me a fucking hard on just thinking about chicks standing there loosening their straps to get the sand out of their suits.” He looked over at me. “And now I’m living here with Seth Barringer, the biggest chick magnet in the entire goddamn world. It’s going to be one helluva summer.”

  “I’m making no promises on the chick magnet thing.”

  We walked inside. I picked up my duffle bag and tossed it onto the couch, my new bed. “This works for me.” I sat down. The cushions were lumpy and slightly sticky. “So what’s this job like?”

  Rocko walked into the kitchen, grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge and tossed me one. “It’s all right. The dude financing the whole thing is a real asshole though. Some super rich prick who obviously inherited his money. His name is Roger Rice, can you believe that? Sounds like a goddamn cartoon character. Jerk pulls up in his Corvette a couple times a day to check out our progress. Tiptoes around in those thousand dollar loafers like he’s the fucking president or something. He can’t be more than twenty-five. Apparently, he got it into his head that he wanted to build a massive surf and swimsuit shop, and Daddy handed him the cash for it. The place is going to be an eyesore. The rest of the shops on the street are small little mom and pop places. There’s even a surf shop right across the street owned by some old guy who used to be a champion surfer or something in the seventies. Don’t see how his little shop is going to last. Oh, and it’s run by a fucking goddess. Her name is Noelle, and she is so damn hot that I swear the seagulls turn to watch her walk past. Of course, she’s completely untouchable, like a goddamned dream, that one. You want to touch her to make sure she’s real.”

  Feminine laughter floated in through the screen door. I glanced out toward the small yard, which was really just a patch of succulent plants and weedy grass surrounded by some uneven, half-buried railway ties. Two girls stuck their bare feet beneath the water squirting from the showerhead. One of them was wearing an old-fashioned looking straw hat with a long pink ribbon.

  “Those two girls live down near the end of the bike path.” Rocko motioned for me to get up. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to them. Grace is really flirty. Terry is kind of different, but you’ll like her. And I know they’ll like you.” Rocko slid open the screen door and glanced back over his shoulder at me. “And I’m O.K. with that. I figure I’ll be there ready to pick up the broken heart pieces you leave behind.”

  “Shit, you make me sound like some callous asshole.”

  “Hey, I just spent six months with you. We both spent most of that time twenty feet below the surface of the Pacific and under barges and piers, yet you still had at least three different girls texting you frantically all evening. I’m just saying, if things don’t work out for you then I’m here to lick wounds— or anything else that needs licking.”

  The shower turned off and, shoes in hand, both girls stepped over the railroad ties. The red head had a sweet smile and I’d always had a soft spot for a spray of nose freckles. The second girl had a tiny gold nose ring and amazing green eyes.

  Rocko looked at the ginger. “Grace, this is Seth.” He nodded at the girl with the nose ring. “Hey, Terry, this is my roommate. He’ll be working at the construction site too.” Rocko looked over at me. “Grace works across the street with her roommate, Noelle.” He winked at me as if that piece of information was important. Rocko occasionally crossed the thin line to being a goofball.

  Grace stepped forward and put out her hand for me to take. “Oh my, I think my work day just got a little less boring.”

  Rocko looked past the two girls to the boardwalk. “Speaking of Noelle— is she with you?”

  Grace looked pointedly back at the path. Aside from two kids skating, their mother jogging after them in case they fell
, it was deserted. “Yes, and she’s wearing an invisibility cloak,” Grace huffed. “Anyhow, we weren’t talking about Noelle. We were talking about my work day—” She smiled up at me. “And how it just got less boring.” She turned her attention back to Rocko. “And if you must know, Noelle is out in the water. That’s where we just came from. We were watching her.”

  “You mean we were watching the two hot guys surfing. Noelle just happened to be sitting nearby on her board,” Terry added.

  “Whatever.” Grace leaned closer to me. “Do you surf?”

  “Not too much. How are the waves today?”

  She shrugged. “Wavy,” she laughed at her comment. “I don’t know good waves from bad waves except that the bad ones can knock you down and get sand in some of the worst places.” She smiled suggestively.

  Terry reached into her pocket. “Hey, some friends are having a party tonight. The house is just past the pier. It’ll be easy to spot because people will be spilling out of it with beers and loud voices.” She held out the flyer, and Rocko snapped it up.

  “Cool,” Rocko said. “We’ll be there with fucking bells on.”

  I looked over at him. “Bells, really?” He was about six inches shorter than me, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in presence, only sometimes that presence was annoying. “We’ll see you later then,” I said. “Nice meeting both of you.”

  Grace leaned a little closer, so close that if she’d stood there long enough I could have counted the freckles on her nose. “And it was extremely nice meeting you.” She flashed a pretty smile, and the two of them trudged back through the sand to the path.

  “Shit, I can strike the nicely built redhead off my list of possible conquests,” Rocko said.

  “Yeah, why is that?”

  “Because Seth Barringer is going to the same party, and she basically just let you know that she wanted you.”

  “I could stay home. Then you can make all the conquests you want.” I rubbed my stomach. “Hey, Rocko, any food in that fridge? I’m starved.”

  “Yeah, I bought you a sandwich this morning from Mike’s Deli. You have to get there early. Otherwise, they sell out of ham and rolls before lunch.”

  “Ham sandwich sounds great.” I headed back to the house and he followed.

  I slid open the screen door. The sour smell of mold was going to take some getting used to. “We need to get some of those plug-in things with the cinnamon and vanilla fragrance. This place smells like something died in the walls.” I walked into the tiny kitchen that was really just an extension of the front room and reached into the fridge. It was nearly empty, except for a sandwich wrapped in brown parchment. I grabbed it out and turned back to Rocko. “Thanks for this.”

  “Sure thing. I have to say, Terry didn’t seem all that impressed with you. Maybe I should try for her.”

  “That’s because I’m not all that impressive.” I took a bite. “Good fucking sandwich.”

  “That’s why they sell out so fast. I’m going to get in the shower. There are two empty drawers in the bedroom dresser. That way you don’t have to live out of a duffle bag for three months. And that reminds me—” Rocko walked over to a bag that was sitting on the counter. He pulled out a bright orange shirt. He held it up in front of his chest and stared down at the picture of a surfing dog on the front.

  “Moondoggie’s Surf Shop?” I read. “What the hell is that?”

  “The extra large is for you, Mr. Beef.” He balled it up and tossed it toward me. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the awesome sandwich, so I let the shirt drop to my feet.

  He reached into the bag and took out a second shirt. “We’ve got to wear these stupid things on the job site. The idiot, that rich fool I told you about, calls himself Moondoggie. Can you fucking believe it?” Rocko shook his head. “What a dick. Anyhow, we’ve got to wear the shirt. Boss’s orders.”

  I lifted the shirt up with the toe of my shoe and kicked it onto the couch. “That sucks.”

  “What are you complaining about. It’ll look fine on you.” Rocko pointed down to his beer belly, something that he took far too much pride in. “I’m going to look like a goddamn pumpkin. By the way, the showerhead doesn’t have much pressure. Works well enough, but after a day at the beach, it might be hard to get the sand out of our asses.” He walked away pleased with his humor.

  The sun was warming the little yard outside the screen door, and the odor inside the house was ruining a perfectly good sandwich. I headed out. A folded up beach chair was leaning against the wall of the house. It took a few tries to untangle it from its rusted state. Most of the plastic straps of the seat were frayed, but I sat down and unwrapped the other half of the sandwich. I’d forgotten my sunglasses inside, but I was pretty sure the chair would break if I got up and down too often. So I suffered with the harsh light.

  The crinkling of the sandwich wrapper brought three seagulls down from the roof. They paced in front of the chair, their beady eyes watching my every bite. I picked off several crumbs and tossed them to the birds. Immediately, a dozen more swooped down, seemingly from nowhere. I was regretting my generosity. The birds stood in a near half-circle around the chair staring at me, obviously plotting how to take me down and steal my sandwich, when something sent them fluttering in every direction. The flurry of wings and feathers cleared, and a giant black dog stood facing me. His black eyes focused on my sandwich.

  In the distance, a tall, thin figure clad in a full body wet suit tread through the sand with a surfboard tucked beneath one arm. Even with the sun in my eyes, I could see it was a girl with long dripping wet hair and soft curves in all the right places. Wet suits left nothing to the imagination, and depending on who was wearing them, they could be just as sexy as a bikini. A perfect example of that was sashaying straight toward the shower in front of the house.

  The dog stared lovingly at my sandwich, while kicking up a breeze with his long wagging tail. The girl reached the shower and leaned her board up against the small retaining wall bordering the bike path. Long strands of wet, black hair hid her face.

  “Is it all right if I give your dog a piece of my sandwich?”

  She glanced toward the yard. Golden brown eyes gazed out from beneath long black eyelashes. “Sorry about that,” she answered, “I didn’t notice that Duke had run over there.”

  “I don’t mind. I think he just saved me from a seagull assassination plot.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure he wouldn’t protest if you handed him a piece.” She reached back to the zipper behind her neck and struggled a few seconds before finally dropping her arm. “I hate to bother you, especially since my dog has already begged off part of your lunch, but could you help?” Long legs carried her to the yard and over the railway ties.

  I stared up at her slightly stunned. She was beautiful, and even though my extreme love of women, all women, gave me the ability to find enticing traits in every girl I met, this one had too many to catalogue in my head.

  She smiled and lowered her hand to me. “You better let me hold your sandwich while you unzip me. Duke will eat the whole thing. He has no conscience when it comes to stealing food.”

  I was rarely thrown off by any girl, but it took me a second to respond. “Uh, yeah, sure.” I lifted the sandwich to her. The chair squeaked as I pushed to my feet.

  She turned around, and my gaze drifted down the smooth curves of her body, still wrapped snuggly in black neoprene. She reached back with her free hand and lifted the long strands of wet hair to expose the zipper and a silky neck that was just begging to be kissed. I reached up, took hold of the zipper pull and tugged it free, exposing the creamy, olive skin of her back. Badly, I wanted to accidentally brush my calloused fingertips over her bare skin. It took all the self-restraint I had. I could make an erotic opportunity out of any situation, but it was more than obvious, she had walked over strictly for help with a jammed zipper. I wasn’t getting any flirtatious vibes at all. And I was plenty disappointed.

  She spun
back around and handed me the sandwich. “Thanks.” Sunlight glinted off the gold flecks in her brown eyes as she peered over my shoulder toward the house. “Are you renting this place?” She smiled. “I’m Noelle, by the way. Most people would introduce themselves before they asked you to unzip them, but I tend to do things backwards.”

  “I’m Seth. Yeah, we’re here for three months. I thought your name might be Noelle.” She looked puzzled. “I met Grace and Terry a few minutes ago. They invited us to a party.”

  “Right, the party,” she said.

  “Will you be there?”

  She laughed again. It was a good laugh. “Thanks for helping with the zipper. Come on, Duke, leave him to eat his sandwich without the cloud of your dog breath surrounding him.” She pulled the wet suit off her shoulders as she headed back to the shower.

  I sat back down, but my attention remained fixed on the girl. She unpeeled the wet suit from her long, firm curves. I couldn’t drag my gaze away. A hand landed hard on my shoulder, and I nearly dropped the rest of the sandwich.

  “Told you she was like a dream.” Rocko stared just as openly at her. Thin streams of water trickled down her tanned shoulders and along the curve of her back. I held my breath and watched. She continued with the task of showering off the sand that clung to her silky skin, seemingly oblivious of the effect it was having on Rocko and me.

  “You are smarter than you look, Rocko. I never would have thought much about having the public shower right here, but I’m quickly seeing the benefits.”

  Noelle leaned over and a long, silver necklace dangled in the sunlight.

  “Are those dog tags?” I looked back at Rocko.