Summer Rush (Because of Hope) Read online

  Summer Rush

  by

  Ashley Wilcox

  * * * *

  Copyright © 2013 Ashley Wilcox

  Editing done by Jennifer Roberts-Hall

  Cover designed by Okay Creations

  Formatting done by JT Formatting

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Lying on my board, feeling the warm sun on my back, I feel at peace. This is my sanctuary. Nothing but miles of endless ocean water spread around me.

  There’s something to be said about lying on top of the unknown. Floating freely without a care in the world of what could be lying beneath. Yet, it doesn’t scare you. It’s peaceful, relaxing...freeing.

  Surfing is my rush. It’s the thrill of riding something so beautiful and peaceful, pushing yourself until the end. It’s just you, your board, the water; riding the rush without a care in the world.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I greet my dad as he pours himself a cup of coffee into his travel mug.

  “Mornin’, sweetheart. Good day?” he asks in reference to the waves.

  “Perfect. How’s Mom?” I respond.

  “Fed, showered, and dressed. Have a good day.” He kisses the top of my head then stops to say goodbye to my mom before leaving for work.

  Life in the Taylor residence doesn’t change much. Every day mirrors the last with our main priority and focus always being my mom.

  My parents were victims of an almost fatal car accident when my mother was just seven months pregnant. The driver of the other car was heavily intoxicated and speeding. He ran a red light, smashing into the passenger side door of my parent’s car where my mother was seated. From the impact she sustained an injury right below her skull which resulted in paralysis from the neck down. She can eat with assistance, and carry on a conversation just like anyone else, but she can’t make use of anything below her neck.

  Because of the trauma to her body, she was forced to deliver me at only twenty-eight weeks. I was a measly three pounds and had trouble breathing on my own so I spent the first eleven weeks of my life in the neonatal intensive care, fighting for survival. My father named me Hope, believing that I was his only hope to get him through this tragedy, believing that I was his only light at the end of the tunnel.

  Growing up, our house was always a revolving door of home aides to care for my mom, and my grandparents to watch over me. My dad was busy working two jobs in an attempt to cover all the home and medical expenses. Our house was never quiet and always crazy.

  Fast forward to the present and you’ll find the opposite. Now that I’ve graduated from high school last year, we no longer need the home aides and, of course, now that I’m nineteen years old I haven’t needed my grandparents care for quite some time now. My dad and I have opposite work schedules, so one of us can always be home with Mom. Life is finally falling into place, and getting easier.

  “Hi, Mom. Anything new and exciting in the world today?” I ask, doing my usual check-in.

  My mom is one of those people that diligently watches the news every day to keep up on the current events and weather. It’s always filled with bad news and politics; nothing that interests me or that I care to know.

  “Nothing out of the norm.” She smiles.

  “Ok. Well, I’m gonna hop in the shower if you don’t need anything?”

  “I’m good. Thanks, honey,” she responds, happy as ever.

  Bless that woman’s heart. No matter the day or the circumstances, she is always happy. I’ve never seen her without a smile on her face.

  “Holler if you need me,” I add as I walk towards the bathroom.

  Once I’m showered and dressed, I grab my laptop and start on my assignments for the day. Although yesterday marked the first day of summer, I’m signed up for summer classes. I find no reason to take two months off to lay around and be lazy when I can just continue on with my courses and graduate early. Besides, I take all my courses online and can complete the assignments from the luxury of my couch. It seems like a no brainer.

  Caring for people has always been something I’ve wanted to do, so when it came time to decide on a career, becoming a nurse was a given. After researching the programs and discovering I could take the courses online, my career choice was confirmed. All of my friends picked colleges further away and chose to live on campus, but I don’t feel like I’m missing out. To me, the only difference to obtaining a degree online as opposed to one on campus is the social life. Seeing that my social life is close to nonexistent, I’m not missing out on anything that I didn’t have much of before. Schooling from home and continuing to care for my mom seems the most logical route.

  “Hey, honey. I think Trent’s here with lunch,” my mom announces, snapping me out of my concentration.

  Not believing that it is already twelve o’clock, I glance at my watch to check.

  Wow. This morning flew by.

  Setting my laptop down on the coffee table, I notice Trent has already let himself in.

  “Good afternoon, beautiful ladies,” Trent greets us before making his way to the kitchen.

  Trent and I have been dating since I started working at his mother’s restaurant last summer. North Carolina has a law that you can’t serve alcohol until you are at least eighteen years of age, so the day I turned eighteen I applied at every restaurant in town. Although I’m sure most teenagers look forward to getting into clubs and casinos, I was looking forward to waitressing. Waitressing equals quick money, and quick money is what my family and I need.

  I’m incredibly grateful that Sheila, Trent’s mom, hired me on the spot. I found out later that Trent’s now ex-girlfriend quit that same day, right after she broke up with Trent. My on the spot interview consisted of three questions.

  Do you have a boyfriend? No.

  Do you want one? I don’t have time for one, so no.

  Do you think the boy at that table is good looking? Um, he’s alright.

  I later find out that the boy at the table was her son, Trent. Apparently my answers were sufficient because she handed me an apron and told me to be back at five thirty the next day.

  Trent owns his own construction business, but comes into the restaurant every evening for dinner. Although I wouldn’t consider Trent GQ gorgeous, he’s still very good looking, i
ncredibly sweet, and has that southern charm that I can’t resist. Working outside all day, every day, has given him that natural muscle build and sun kissed skin. To complete the package, he has been blessed with beautiful blonde hair and the bluest eyes you’ll ever see. He finishes every sentence with a sir or ma’am, making him the perfect Southern boy who parent’s dream their little girl will settle down with.

  Valuing my job, we started out just friends. I didn’t want to disappoint Sheila by dating her son, so I kept my distance. Even though he flirted and wasn’t shy about his feelings, I kept mine platonic–just friends. After hanging out with him outside of the restaurant just once, I knew that this stupid game of “we’re just friends” wasn’t going to work. For the first couple of months we tried to keep it as hush as possible from Sheila, but we knew it would only be a matter of time before she found out. One evening she caught us coming out of the employee bathroom, giggling. We scrambled for an excuse, but she interrupted with, “Oh, please. I wasn’t born yesterday.” She then told Trent that he’d better not screw this one up or he’d find himself waiting tables if I quit. Although we all knew that no relationship is a sure thing, we assured her she didn’t have anything to worry about.

  Following Trent into the kitchen, I help him transfer our lunch from the to-go containers to the plates.

  “How’s my girl?” he softly asks, pulling me into his side to kiss my temple.

  “I’m good, how’s work?” I ask, even though I know the response I’m going to get. It never changes.

  “Oh, you know…spending more time babysitting guys then actually getting anything done.” I want so badly to say, if it bothers you that much, than do something about it, but knowing that it’s none of my business, I keep my mouth shut.

  “Sorry, babe,” I respond instead.

  “How’s your mornin’ been?” he asks, carrying our plates into the living room.

  “Oh, you know, learning how to save lives one book at a time. I can now tell you the top five signs of having a heart attack.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. You’re on your way, Angel.” He glances over his shoulder with a smile, making sure I know how proud he is of me.

  My stomach flutters seeing his sweet smile. I stand there for a moment to take him in. Full of love for not only me, but my family, too. Supportive in everything I do, and there for me whenever I need him. Trent is truly the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for, and he’s mine. My heart swells thinking about it. I love him so much.

  After feeding my mom her lunch, then eating my own, it’s already time for Trent to get back to work.

  “Well, ladies, it’s been a pleasure as always,” he announces, bringing our plates to the kitchen. “Angel, I’ll see you later at the restaurant. Mrs. Taylor, I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place,” he says with a wink before walking to the door.

  After kissing him goodbye, I start to get my mom cleaned up for her afternoon nap. While she naps, I hide in my room and read my latest saucy romance novel. Last year, my friend Kelly insisted that I read the Fifty Shades of Grey series. Curiosity got the best of me and I started reading it. The next thing I knew, I was locking myself in my room with every extra minute I had, reading all three books in three days. Yes, three books in three days. My love for reading started at that moment and it hadn’t stopped since.

  Before I know it, my dad returns home from work and I need to get ready to go to the restaurant and start my shift.

  “Hey, pretty lady!” Sheila greets me with her strong southern accent.

  “Hi, Sheila,” I reply as I make my way to the back to the waitress area.

  With summer underway, so is tourist season. We live in a small town one mile north of the South Carolina border named Carolina Shores. Living on the coast, and having some of the most pristine golf courses, means our quiet town becomes a major tourist attraction during school breaks and summer vacation. Although for some locals it can be bothersome, for me it means busier restaurants and more money.

  When I approach the employee table Trent is already sitting there, eating his dinner, so I grab a stack of napkins and silverware to roll and sit down across from him. You’d think, being twenty-three years old, he’d cook himself his own dinner, but what guy would when he can eat here for free every night? Even though he plays it off, saying he does it to spend a little time with me, we all know it’s for the free meal.

  “Hey, love. I saved some potatoes for you,” he greets me, motioning to them on his plate. Sheila’s potatoes and gravy are the best.

  “You really know the way to my heart,” I joke, scooping up a spoonful.

  “I do what I can,” he responds with a wink.

  “You’ve got two at table one, darlin’!” Sheila yells from the front, notifying me of my first table of the evening.

  “And, I’m off.” I stand, wrapping my apron around my waist. Trent stands to kiss me goodbye. “I’ve gotta jet, too. Call me later. Love you.”

  “Will do. Love you, too.”

  No different than any other night, I start with my elderly regulars. They tell me how sweet I am, order the same thing they always do, finish with coffee, and then are out the door within an hour. Usually, by the time they leave, our busy dinner crowd starts filling in. Since it’s small, during the off season I can manage the whole restaurant by myself. During the tourist season, not so much. Kelly, my friend from high school who goes to the University of Wilmington forty-five minutes away, works here when she’s home on break.

  “Hope, you’ve got a four top at table ten!” Sheila yells from the front.

  “And, oh my, are they hot,” Kelly whispers over my shoulder while at the soda machine, filling drink orders.

  “Huh?” I ask, not knowing what she’s talking about.

  “Um, table ten? It’s stacked with gorgeous guys,” she explains, nodding in their direction.

  Peeking over the glass divider, I take a look at the gorgeous guys she’s referring to. Yeah, they’re good looking, but not my type; Italian and way to perfect looking.

  “Eh,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Oh, come on. You may have a boyfriend, but you’re not dead. Those guys are hot as hell.”

  “They probably spend more time on their hair than you,” I respond matter-of-factly.

  Kelly is one of those drop dead gorgeous girls; however, she’s also one of those girls who spend hours every day perfecting her hair and make-up.

  “Well, if that’s the outcome, then I’m okay with it,” she replies, almost drooling over them.

  “You’re ridiculous. I’ve gotta get to work,” I respond, rolling my eyes.

  “Make sure you tell them I said hello!” Kelly shouts as I walk away.

  Raising my hand in acknowledgment, and shaking my head while smiling at her flamboyance, I make my way to the table of guys.

  “Hi, y’all. I’m Hope, I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” I hand the four guys their menus. “Can I get you some drinks to start with?”

  As I take their order, my eye catches on the one at the far end of the table. All too perfect looking with his meticulously spiked hair, faded blue jeans frayed at the knees, that I’m sure he bought that way, and wearing a polo shirt with one of those alligators on it and popped at the collar. He’s everything I don’t like in a guy, which is why it’s driving me mad that I can’t take my eyes off of him.

  As he gives me his drink order, everything seems to go in slow motion and I can’t help but focus on the movement of his mouth, his adorable dimples that appear next his perfect lips, and the way his big brown eyes twinkle as he talks; he’s absolutely mesmerizing.

  “Um, are you okay?” he laughs, interrupting the daze I’m in.

  “Uh, yeah…I’m fine.” I blink hard, swallowing the saliva that’s pooled in my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say? It’s, uh…it’s, uh, a little loud in here,” I say, embarrassingly fumbling for words.

  Yeah, it does get pretty lo
ud in here once the restaurant gets filled up with its dinner rush, but there’s no denying my obvious drooling stare down. The smug smile on his face confirms that not only did he notice my moment of weakness, he sucked it into his already monstrous ego.

  “Not a problem–happens,” he laughs with a cocky grin, looking me over like I’m a piece of meat.

  Feeling my heart rate increase, and the sweat building on my face and underarms, I know I need to get far away from this table and Mister I Love Myself.

  Making sure I give him a less than enthused smile, I ask, “Anyway, what’d you say you’d like?”

  Without removing that smug grin, he responds, “Corona with lime. I like a little sweetness with my beer…please.”

  Ugh, this guy is unreal. Do girls really fall for this obnoxious crap? Are guys like him capable of loving someone more than themselves, because I find it doubtful that he’d be able to.

  Giving him a fake smile, I run to the beverage counter to escape this ridiculously uncomfortable situation.

  “Woah, what’s got your panties in a bunch?” Kelly asks when I almost crash into her as I turn the corner.

  “Nothing, those guys are just obnoxious!” I spat, still shaken up by how much he got under my skin.

  “So, which one is he?” she asks all intrigued.

  “What’re you talking about? They’re all obnoxious.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Hope. Which one is making you all hot and bothered?” she continues, nudging my shoulder like it’s going to help get it out of me faster.

  I respond like she has ten heads. “Have you lost your mind? There’s no way any of those guys would get me hot and bothered.”

  “Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Kelly whispers near my ear after lifting her tray of drinks, and walks past me with a grin.

  Hot and bothered–yeah right!

  Resting my hands on the counter, I close my eyes for a minute to try and pull myself back together. My blood is boiling right now, furious with the way this guy makes me feel. Then to fuel the fire even more, he eats it up like I’m just another one of his drooling groupies. Totally used to the attention. Barf!