Page 8 of Acadia Falls

I laughed and shook my head. “He’s moved on from sorority girls to Hollywood stars.”

Now Tommy grinned. “That chick is crazy, huh? Can you believe the house?”

Tori Blaisdell’s house, the Lookout, was on a deserted corner of the island. She had a whole private beach to herself. We’d been there many times when we were younger when a different family owned the property. But ever since the actress had bought the Lookout five years ago, it had been an off-limits construction zone. She didn’t want anyone going down there, probably because she hadn’t pulled permits. She was doing all sorts of renovations that would’ve been blocked by the historic committee.

But now the work was done, and apparently, Tori wanted to show the house off. She’d been the one to invite us all down to the after-party. After I put Blondie to bed, I walked home. I’d been surprised to bump into Tommy and Ryan in the truck, heading down to the Lookout.

“Hop in,” Ryan ordered. “Tori Blaisdell invited us over.”

“No freaking way.” I squeezed in next to them. I was tired from fucking Blondie—and fucking her well—but there was no way I would miss checking out the Lookout. “I haven’t been down there in years.”

“No one has.” Ryan put the truck in drive and bumped over the gravel. “This is like the Big Reveal.”

“He’s been watching too much HGTV,” Tommy chided.

“Shut up.” But in between chasing sorority girls and maintaining a near-perfect GPA, Ryan had definitely been watching HGTV. He was an architecture major and a design nut. He loved old houses—he was probably foaming at the mouth to finally get inside the Lookout.

We turned down the long gravel drive that led to the house. The beach bordered us on the right, the forest to the left. Ryan drove tediously slow, and good thing: six deer leaped out in front of us, crossing into the woods.

“Shit!” Tommy watched as they disappeared into the darkness. “Good thing you drive like Mom.”

“Shut up, Tommy.” Ryan eased the truck the rest of the way down, bumping over the gravel, and pulled onto the property.

“Holy cow.” I whistled. “Will you look at that?”

The whole house, white and pristine, was lit up. Tommy and I saw the property from the water every day. Still, I hadn’t been close enough to see that the exterior had been completely refinished; the bricks were painted white and smoothed over. The building was from the 1800s, but it looked brand new.

“She’s rich-rich.” Ryan shook his head. He didn’t get intimidated by much, the handsome, smart fucker, but he looked a little awed. He seemed to keep forgetting that we were rich now, too. Maybe we needed to get our house fixed up…

There were about ten other cars parked in the grassy lot. Music wafted out onto the deck. Tommy opened his big IPA, had a sip, and jumped down from the truck. “I’m going in.” He made it sound like he was headed for battle.

Once I followed him inside, I felt the same. Tori Blaisdell’s house was exactly like her—white, expensive, and immaculate, too perfect to touch. The other guests were also “rich-rich,” to use Ryan’s terminology. They were mainly familiar faces. Alex Vejas, the jilted bride; Miles Tanaka, another resident billionaire; Mia Harrison, another summer billionaire, and a smattering of well-dressed guests who’d come up for the wedding and now seemed committed to getting shit-faced at the famous actress’s house.

Tori came out and stood in the middle of the living room. She’d changed from her fancy clothes and was barefoot in white sweats and a loose-fitting tee. “Does anybody have some weed?”

Five different dudes stumbled forward, elbowing each other out of the way, but Ryan was the fastest. He flashed a megawatt smile. “I have the best weed. Want to smoke out on the deck? I’d love to hear more about your house. You maintained its integrity, but it’s so much better now.”

“Oh.” She grinned at him, taking in his chiseled features, perfect freaking hair, and big shoulders. Tori Blaisdell looked like she’d hit the island jackpot—and planned to hit it even harder as the night wore on. “That’d be great.”

With that, Ryan led her outside, the smooth fucker.

Tommy chugged some of his beer. “He’s seriously ridiculous.”

“At least he’s getting laid tonight.” I patted my brother on the shoulder. “Can’t say the same for you, kid.”

Tommy mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Go fuck yourself, then wandered off.

“Do you want a drink?” Alex Vejas was suddenly at my side. She handed me a shot of tequila.

“Um…”

“Cheers,” she insisted, forcibly clanging her glass against mine. “To freedom.”

“To freedom.” The shot burned on the way down. It wasn’t wise to chase bourbon with tequila, but Alex looked a little worse for wear. It didn’t seem like a good time to say no to her. Her mascara was smudged, and her hair looked like it had been whipped by the ocean wind.

“You doing okay, Alex? Sorry if that’s a dumb question.” I didn’t know her well, even though she’d summered on the island growing up. She’d dated Ryan at one point, but that was every summer girl.

“It’s a dumb question, but I’ll still answer it.” She grabbed the nearby bottle and refilled our glasses. “Derek is an ass, okay? I caught him with Daisy. Daisy!”