Mr. July: An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Bachelors at the Beach Book 1) Read online

  Copyright ©2021

  By JAX HART

  [email protected]

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  JAX HART

  This story took me about a year to finish. I started last June, under lock down while wondering what a normal summer somewhere else might be like. I hope this story sweeps you away!

  A special thanks to my Beta and Edit team for helping to make this book shine!

  Also, to Z for standing by me and to all the avid readers who still read my words.

  XXOXO,

  JAX

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  First Epilogue

  Second Epilogue

  Mr. August

  Prologue

  Mor From Jax

  Also by Jax Hart

  Foreword

  Have you ever done something—something that seemed like a good idea at the time but ended up biting you in the butt instead? She knew I’d do anything for her. But of all the favors and fixes I’d done—nothing could have prepared me for this. My Nana always said life was a series of dominoes. You could choose how to arrange them, but you’d never know which ones would fall.

  Boy, did I fall.

  I should’ve known the second I saw her on the beach, it was a bad idea to try to make amends. Bunny was right, I did meet someone who took me down a peg or two and knocked me for six. I’m going crazy. I want to kiss her, shake her, and have crazy fantasies about pasting her naked body with honey and feathers. See? I told you the woman was driving me insane. It all started that day at the beach—with me in a spandex bathing suit…

  One

  Late October

  “Put your hands on your hips. Flex your pecs.”

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  A low growl worked its way from my throat.

  The photographer lifted the camera away from his face, “Is there something wrong?”

  “What makes you think that?” I snarled, fisting my hands.

  “Charlie! Do something. I can’t work with that.” The photographer waved his hand in my direction making a disgusted face before turning on his heel. I lifted my T-shirt from the ground, pulling it back over my head.

  “Stop being an ass. This is for charity.”

  “You couldn’t find someone else?”

  She shrugged. “I tried. But one of my models has the flu. I’ve worked extremely hard to get Carlos to be the photographer for this calendar. He’s doing it for free. Today is the last day he can shoot before he flies off to LA to cover the premiere of Lexi Pine’s new movie.”

  “Whatever. I’m out. I’m sorry, Charlie. I left over five-hundred emails, dozens of voice messages, and a stack of litigation papers to work through—all for some dude in skinny jeans to tell me to ‘flex my pecs.’ I’m out.”

  She smiled, placing a hand on my forearm. “I know you work hard. Which is why I thought a day at the beach would be relaxing.”

  “The water is barely fifty degrees. It’s the end of October and my balls are so cold—they’ve shrunken up somewhere I can’t even find.”

  “TMI, baby bro. Besides, we have to shoot now to get the calendar out for January.”

  “Baby? By two minutes.” Ignoring my sister, I scrolled through my work phone. I was buried. A day at the beach was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I might be only twenty-six, but quickly proved myself invaluable to the hedge fund firm that I work for. I’m one of the best attorneys at the office despite others having decades more tenure. They call me the “golden boy.” Not only because in summer my skin tans easily, turning to gold, but because every deal I’ve worked on has returned 3x the capital back to the firm.

  “I’m sorry, Chars.”

  “You can’t leave. Please…”

  I snapped my fingers. “I have the perfect solution! Get Carlos to be the model and you can be the photographer.”

  She turned, staring at his sorry form in his skinny ass jeans. “Carlos, won’t sell calendars.”

  “And I will?”

  “A million,” she grinned devilishly. “But not with that scowl on your face. And those board shorts go down to your knees. It’s not sexy enough.” She pursed her lips. I practically heard her mind work.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my surf shorts.” Her arms crossed. “No. Hell no!”

  A shudder rolled through me as she perused the men’s swimwear on the metal rack set up nearby. The hangers moved quickly until she reached a black pair of spandex looking boxer briefs. She paused, took them off the hanger holding them out.

  “I love ya’ sis. But I’m not modeling my junk for the world to see.”

  “The world? It’s only a calendar for a small charity. Trust me, people will buy it to make themselves feel good before tossing it in a closet.”

  I frowned, preoccupied. My attention was no longer on her or the spandex ball asphyxiator she wanted me to wear. My work phone was blowing up. I had real shit to do. Like make money. I turned my back on her, walking away. I dialed the office pressing my cell to my ear while in my other hand was the fob key to my new Tesla. I was pressing the remote start button to get the heat going when the key was ripped from my hands.

  “Charlie!” I charged. But my sister was fast. She dodged left then right.

  “I need you.”

  She gave me her best pouty look. The one that melted my father’s heart, rewarding her with an Audi convertible at sixteen while I got a beat-up Explorer. “That shit doesn’t work on me. I’m your twin.”

  So, she tried something else, giving me her best lost little girl look. The one she wore the day I found her crying on the playground in fourth grade after her frenemy Olivia declared her a loser because she had a boy’s name. The ultrasound tech had told my parents they were expecting twin boys. My mother had everything monogrammed with our predetermined names. She wasn’t going to change it after Charlie came out with lady parts. Something that occasionally gets to Char.

  “Aw, shit.”

  “It’s for the dolphins, Chase. They need us.”

  Mid eye-roll, she flashed me a picture of dolphins in captivity. “We need to end this, Chase. With the money from the calendars, we can save one. Maybe two. Every dolphin our charity buys back from these horrible resorts or aquariums—gets released off the coast of Florida. No one will pay to ride them in the Bahamas. Momma dolphins won’t be ripped from their calves and pods can be free like they were meant to be…,” she broke off practically in tears.

  “Hell.”

  I’m a sucker for animals and she knew it. Always have been. If I weren’t such a workaholic living in a fancy high-rise, I’d have dogs. Big ones. The fluffy kind that shed, get hair everywhere, and piss off the country-club type women who eye me while dreaming of golden-haired babies.

/>   This was a bad idea.

  I also knew it was better to just give Charlie what she wanted than to endure her tactics to get me to comply. My twin isn’t above playing dirty, like giving out my new cell number to exes on social media—encouraging them to “reach out.” Or text her sorority sister from college Riley, whom I found terribly annoying—that I was DTF and giving her the code to my building. That happened after I was two hours late to our birthday party one year because I was closing my first contract for the firm. Char was livid after inviting half of ‘upper southern society’ and blowing a hefty sum of her trust fund to hold the party at a country club outside of Charlotte.

  “Chase… if you don’t cooperate, I’ll have to cancel the calendar.” She batted her eyes, giving me the pouty lip.

  I took the bathing suit from her fingers and strode back to the photo shoot area.

  “Thirty minutes. Tops. You owe me big time for this.” I shot a stern look at her over one shoulder.

  “I knew I could count on you. The poor, captive dolphins can, too.” Defeated, I shrugged. “Carlos! He’s in!” Charlie waved both her arms above her head. She was so excited—she resembled someone stranded on a deserted island, using their arms to wave an SOS to a plane in the sky. I quickly answered a few emails, then tucked my phone away.

  Carlos narrowed his eyes at me. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? Let’s get this done.” Despite the wind picking up, I grabbed the hem of my shirt.

  “At least we won’t need to spray tan you.”

  “Spray what? No. I’m not losing my man-card over this.” Resigning myself to the fact that yes—I’m really about to be a calendar guy I parted the curtain to the changing tent. “I better still be able to father kids after wearing this…”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “I have a big package.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I’d strip down right here to show you, but you are my twin and that’s kind of gross.”

  “Trust me. I’ve heard plenty about your ‘package’ over the years from friends.

  “What? As if I’d ever hook up with any of the girls in your sorority.”

  “Natasha?”

  “What?”

  “She said—”

  I shuddered. “Never happened. Despite her best attempts.” With that I stepped inside the tent and dropped my board shorts. Natasha was whack. Stalked me throughout college and I thought I was finally free of that money-hungry viper when I heard some footballer knocked her up. All of Char’s friends are gold diggers. Or man hunting cougars in training, taking tips from their middle-aged mothers. Sometimes, I think it’d be nice to find someone but I’m in a relationship with my career right now. Finding a woman can come later. I have plenty of time.

  “I look like a tool.” In the cheap full-length mirror set up in the tent, I caught sight the tight spandex hugging my “assets.” My skin still had that summertime glow. It was a gift. Summer is my time. Turning away, I pull back the curtain and stared out into the ocean reading the waves. They were high, perfect for getting on my old board and forgetting everything but riding the next one.

  The ocean is in my blood. Charlie and I, we didn’t have the best home life, but we had each other and the beach house our parents rented every summer. I’d do anything for my twin and she damn well knows it.

  Sure, on the outside, we appeared to have it all. Summer house, check. Flashy cars, check. Parents who spent an enormous amount of money at the country club, check. But after the parties, endless buffets, and nights under the stars—were the fights when the car rolled to a stop past the gates. Mom was almost always drunk, wobbled in her heels picking fights that escalated into broken vases crashing against the walls.

  I got my looks from my father. Dad was a lover. Too nice. Too rich. Too handsome. He had a soft spot in his heart not only for Charlie and Mom, but for every woman who looked his way. Women wanted him—it didn’t matter he already had a wife and kids.

  But mom didn’t sign a prenup. Dad loved his money… so that’s how it went. When Charlie and I got older we’d get carted off to the shore house for summer with our Nana. When she died… we stopped going altogether. Dad sold the shore house. Shortly after, he and mom finally parted ways. He’s on wife number three now, while my mother is on her third boob job.

  Looking out at the waves and smelling the tang of salt, for a moment I wished we could just go back. When was the last time I was genuinely happy? I know it was here. It was summer and maybe July? That’s it—July 4th weekend. Charlie and I must’ve been about eight. Dad had just bought a smaller power boat and was teaching me all about it. We watched the fireworks from offshore. Mom and Dad were happy. They even kissed. Charlie and I got sick from eating too many gummy bears and drinking Dr. Pepper.

  “Chase?” Charlie touched my arm. Her eyes were soft—hesitant.

  “I miss it here. Before Mom and Dad’s marriage turned sour. Remember the summer we snuck out to go to Grant’s bonfire party?”

  “You bet,” she laughs, “You caught me kissing Mike Reynolds by the dunes and went ballistic.”

  “You were fourteen!”

  “So. He wasn’t my first kiss. I bet you beat me by a year on that.”

  “Actually, I was eleven.”

  “Slut!” She smacks my bicep. “Who was she?”

  “Your best friend, Emily.”

  “She never told me!”

  “Why do you think she kept asking you for sleepovers? To watch Vampire Diaries?” Her wheels turned, thinking back to summers from long ago… the ones that slip through your fingers leaving you desperately wanting the magic back.

  “That sneaky bitch!”

  I grinned. “What can I say? I always was irresistible.”

  “Hey, Mr. Irresistible. We’re losing good light. Storm clouds are rolling in.” Carlos checked his equipment while keeping one eye on the sky. I moved outside the beach tent serving as my changing room. “This is the last favor I’m doing for you for a while, Char…”

  Rip.

  I winced. This wasn’t good. When I walked the seam tore up to my crotch. “Um, sis? We have a problem.”

  Carlos’ eyes almost popped out of his head.

  Charlie’s face turned red. “I didn’t need to see all that…”

  She blindly picked another bathing suit off the rack and threw it at me. Cupping my package, I waddled back into the tent afraid the back seam would also split. In a flash I took off the ripped suit and pulled on the new one. It was tight, but not cut-the-circulation-to-your-junk tight.

  “Forget Mr. Irresistible. You’re going to be Mr. July,” Carlos started snapping away. Only then did I look down feeling like a clown. I was wearing dark blue spandex shorts with stars n’ stripes on it. Just great. I’d never wear anything so cheesy or tight.

  “Only men in body building competitions wear shit like this!”

  “Wait! He still has his shirt on!”

  My hands lifted to my tank. Instead of taking it off, I tore it down the middle.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Fuck this.” My eyes said. But my body… it said come look at me and save some friggin’ dolphins.

  “And that’s a wrap.”

  As soon as Carlos lowered his lens, my scowl reappeared. I rushed into the tent to get dressed.

  “Well, that’s it then.”

  “Hmmm…” I was preoccupied with the work emails that held my attention as well as the dozen texts from the girl I met on my Tonight dating app. Her name was Darla and she said she was a dancer. I deleted her texts, ready to reply to some emails instead as images of Darla wearing pointer shoes doing splits filled my head. You will not be like Dad. I chanted over and over internally.

  “I’m flying back to New York tomorrow morning. It was good seeing you.”

  Shit. Her voice was laced with hurt. I closed my email.

  “Are you up for a trip down memory lane?”

  “Can I drive?”

  “Never. But I’l
l be buying the slushies.”

  “I want mine with Absolut.”

  “Sure,” I winked.

  “I’m dying for a watermelon vodka slushie. They remind me of summer.”

  “Why did you decide to shoot your calendar here? In the Outer Banks when New York has the Hamptons.”

  “It’s not the same. I just wanted it to be here. You know?”

  “I do.”

  “Can I help you pack up?”

  “No, we have interns that will take care of the tent and props.”

  “In a non-profit?”

  “We had two hundred applications. I know you think my job is all fluff baby bro, but C&C International is a brand. We are one of the premiere charitable foundations in New York. Trust me, I have stiff competition.”

  I paused, mid-stride catching her by the forearm as we reached the edge of the sand by the cars. “I am proud of you, Char. Immensely proud. Did you think I belittled your career?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not the hot-shot hedge fund attorney…”

  “Well, everyone can’t be me,” I smirked. Just then my cell dinged with a string of more texts. It was Darla again. This time she sent pictures of herself posing with one leg held high over her head while wearing a thong and nothing else. I groaned. Why is it so hard, being good? Biting my lip, I forced myself to think of cold water. Very cold ocean water. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.

  “Cocky much?” She smacked my arm.

  “Maybe a tad.”

  “Who is that?” She moved fast trying to grab my phone as my thumb hovered over delete. Bye, darling Darla.

  “Nobody.”