Fool of Main Beach: An Opposites-attract Simple Hero Must Love Dogs MM Romance (Love in Laguna Book 5) Read online

  Fool of Main Beach

  Love in Laguna, book five

  Tara Lain

  Tara Lain Books

  Published by

  Tara Lain Books

  www.taralain.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Fool of Main Beach © 2020 Tara Lain

  Cover Art by Cate Ashwood

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Tara Lain Books

  1875 Dragon Fly Lane

  Ashland, OR. 97520

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Fool of Main Beach

  Note to Readers

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Meet Tara Lain

  Books by Tara Lain

  Keep Reading for an Excerpt from KNIGHT OF OCEAN AVENUE, the book that started it all!

  Fool of Main Beach

  Love in Laguna, book Five

  How can Merle swim with the sharks when the guy he loves is bait?

  Just when Merle’s dreams of finally amazing his intellectual family with his accomplishments as a respected actor are about to manifest – he comes face-to-face with Tom Henry.

  Can this guy even be real?

  Tom’s as simple and unsophisticated as an angel and totally happy with who he is as long as he can protect his sister and take care of his dogs.

  Everyone loves Tom – but “in love” with him? That’s another whole story. Even Tom knows that out of bed the only thing he can do for Merle is wreck his career – and lose his family’s respect.

  Merle’s going to have to give up something.

  Hey Merle, your money or your heart?

  FOOL OF MAIN BEACH is a MM, opposites-so-far-apart-they-might-as-well-be-on-different-planets attract, world’s colliding, blue-collar lover, saving your sister, desperate for approval romance - - with the very best dogs.

  To my breakfast bunch, KC Burn, Z.A. Maxfield, and Lex Valentine, for encouraging me, supporting me, and above all, inspiring me every day.

  Note to Readers

  Hi and thank you for reading FOOL OF MAIN BEACH. Have you ever fallen in love and had everyone tell you it was unwise, but you refused to give up your love? That defines my relationship with Tom Henry, the love interest in FOOL OF MAIN BEACH. Tom sprang from my head full blown and I immediately loved him. There were so many reasons not to pair a sophisticated actor with a man so simple and pure that evil can hardly exist around him, but Tom wouldn’t be denied. He practically narrated the story in my head. What emerged is one of my favorite books I’ve ever written. I hope you love Tom and his dogs as much as I do – and appreciate the hero who most appreciates Tom. Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  The presenter’s voice rang out across the huge ballroom. “And the winner of Best Performance by a Supporting Actor in a TV Series Drama is—”

  Merle Justice’s stomach gave one huge clench.

  “Otto Fastholder in Breakup Tales.”

  Stomach release. A smile plastered on his face and his hands began clapping like mad on their own. The cameras are going to show you, so look like the world’s best sport.

  His agent, Jerry Durand, leaned over. “Sorry, baby. We’ll get ’em next time.” He scooted to another table and another client. A bigger, more famous client.

  Nichelle Holder, his costar in the series, squeezed his arm inconspicuously, then began her own applause. Merle gave her a pained grin as Otto moved his bulk up the aisle and onto the stage to get his award. True, Merle’s series, Blood on the Boyfriend Jeans, hadn’t had much chance. Hell, the nominators didn’t even know whether to categorize their show in drama or comedy. The fact that Merle had been nominated at all for a teenybopper supernatural romance drama had been described in the trades as a miracle. Some said the nomination was a feather in his long, wavy blond hair. Others called it a joke. He released a slow breath as he lowered his hands and let the smile fade.

  Nichelle leaned over and spoke softly. “You should have won. Otto’s a thug so everyone thinks he’s so dramatic.”

  Merle quirked his top lip. “And he doesn’t wear fangs.”

  “True that. It’s a testament to your talent that you got nominated. Seriously, I don’t remember Twilight getting any Academy Award nominations.”

  He grinned. “So everyone keeps telling me.” Sadly, his family wouldn’t see it that way.

  But then, they didn’t exactly see him at all.

  Another award had gone by. His hands hurt from slamming together.

  “So want to go out and get drunk?” Nichelle, brunette and doe-eyed, did have an affection for the sauce.

  “No. I’ve got to head for Laguna. My friends are giving a party, which sadly is partly in celebration of this award I didn’t win.”

  “Oooh, ouch.”

  “Yeah, but it’s mostly to fete my friends’ successful businesses, so at least we can pretend the whole award thing was a mistake.” He glanced up at her. “You want to come?”

  More applause drowned her out for a minute.

  “You so hard up you need a woman for a date?” She flashed her snarkiest smile.

  That stabbed him directly in the loneliness. “Sad but true, baby.” He forced the dimples. “Actually, I thought you might get a kick out of it. Laguna’s fun, and the guest list should be pretty incredible since it includes Gray Anson and his husband, Ru Maitland.”

  “Whoa. Big fancy names.” She bounced up and whistled for a friend who’d been named, then sat again.

  Merle said, “Chase Phillips and his husband too.”

  “The stylist?”

  “Yeah. It’s their party.”

  “Wish I could afford to hire him. He’s so great. Hell, he practically put Missy Samson on the map. That woman was twelve miles of bad road before he got his hands on her. Now she’s Best Dressed list.”

  “I’ll put in a good w
ord for you.”

  “Can’t come, though. I have to be on a plane tomorrow for those interviews I told you about.”

  “Oh right. You’ll be great.”

  “Besides, you need to find a real date. Cute guy like you should have a million dudes on a string.” She glanced into his eyes. “How come I never see you with any?”

  “The C&C factor’s too great.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Competition and critique. It gets old with Hollywood guys.” He’d really had a crush on Ru Maitland, who hadn’t been Hollywood at the time, but no go. Hell, who could compete with the world’s biggest action movie star, Gray Anson? Besides, he loved having Ru and Gray as friends.

  “Maybe you’ll find someone at the party who’s not a Hollywood guy.”

  “Maybe.”

  She picked up her champagne glass, and they both turned to the stage to see the winners of the really big awards.

  Right, and forget about the loser on aisle five.

  Before the last award was given, he slipped out of the theater into the lobby. He wanted to get a jump on the traffic. As he strode toward the entrance, the inner doors opened, and he glanced back at the portly figure of Paul Remoulade, a reporter for a slimy and wildly popular gossip blog—although they called it a news outlet.

  “Hey, Justice, tough luck.”

  “Thanks, Paul.”

  “None of us thought you’d win, of course.”

  Merle made a face. “Yeah, vampires don’t win awards.” He laughed.

  “Might be vampires.” He snorted. “Might be you.”

  Shit. This asshole’s opinion should matter zero percent. Should. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Remoulade.”

  “Any time.” He narrowed his eyes. “I gotta file my story.”

  Merle turned to hide his expression, threw open the outside door, and exited the scene of the crime. He jogged to the lot where he’d left his Audi before the limo picked him up for his big entrance on the red carpet. He’d kind of enjoyed all the screams since they reminded the press that, while his nomination might be unlikely, his popularity wasn’t. Too bad Remoulade hadn’t seen it.

  He powered through traffic, still thick at 9:00 p.m., and made it to the freeway in record time. As planned, he missed the southward crush.

  Halfway to Laguna, he finally got the nerve and clicked his phone. “Call Mom.”

  The phone rang three times. Finally she picked up. “Hello, Merle.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Of course not, dear. We’re having a little soiree to discuss my latest publication in the Journal of Immunotherapy. Just a few friends.”

  “So I’m sure you didn’t watch the Emmys.” He made a face she couldn’t see.

  “Emmys? Oh no, of course not, dear.” She turned away from the phone a moment and laughed at something someone said to her. “So what happened?”

  “I didn’t win.”

  “I’m sorry. But you didn’t expect to, you told me so. After all, you play a vampire, right?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed. Two fucking years on the air and she wasn’t sure what he played.

  “So there you are. I must get back to our friends, dear. I’ll tell your father. I know he’ll be sad for you.” She hung up.

  He stared through the windshield and forced his foot not to press the accelerator to the floor. When your whole f-ing family topped the list of East Coast intelligentsia, it was damned tough to make a mark. Especially when you were a TV actor.

  With teeth gritted, he sailed to Laguna Beach in under an hour. The moon on the water at Main Beach sparkled on every wave crest. He loved this town. He’d fallen for it while he was performing in Hamlet at the Laguna Playhouse. That’s where he’d met Ru, Gray, Shaz, Billy, and most of the people he now counted among his best friends, so that increased the town’s appeal. He’d practically been living there with all the times he’d stayed at Ru and Gray’s beautiful house on the water, and now he’d bought his own home and Billy Ballew was remodeling it for him. After all, vampires might not get much respect, but they made a damned good salary.

  He accelerated through the yellow light, turned on Ocean Avenue, and raced to the small parking lot behind the beautiful building that housed Shazam and Ru Maitland Designs. Shaz said they’d save him a spot and, sure enough, a cone in the one vacant parking place said Justice on it. People probably thought they’d stolen the cone from law enforcement.

  He stopped, jumped out, dragged the cone to the side, and then parked. A glance in the rearview revealed he looked disappointed—and that proved beyond doubt that his parents were right. He didn’t have the brains of the rest of his family. Carefully he reset the face the press called “beautifully boyish”—not his words, the teen mags—into his usual rakish, irreverent grin. “Okay, baby. Showtime.”

  Smoothing his tux, he sauntered around to the front and, with a breath, walked through the door into a wall of humans. Glasses clinked, voices rose and fell, and three big-screen TVs on the walls that he’d never seen before showed the post-Emmy party coverage. Shit, they’d all seen his loss up close and personal.

  Shaz spied him first. He looked up, smiled big, and started to applaud.

  Oh no, don’t do that.

  All the eyes in the room turned toward him, and people began clapping.

  Oh come on, what the hell for?

  Ru, dressed in one of his ridiculously cool, super geek suits complete with suspenders, walked forward and hugged him. “We’re so proud of you.”

  “Unless you mean for wearing this gorgeous tux you designed, I can’t imagine why. I didn’t win.”

  “Darling, you got nominated for a drama award for playing a fucking vampire.”

  Gray stepped up beside his husband, and even calling the man “best friend” couldn’t dampen the sheer impact of that charismatic star power. Gray punched Merle’s arm in the action-star, alpha-male way that disguised a sweet, giving nature. “You make more of that role than Laurence Olivier did of Hamlet, man. You should have won. That Otto dude plays his part like he’s piling concrete blocks. People watch you and they can’t believe you’re so good.” His smoky eyes glinted. “Since you have fangs and all.”

  Merle shoulder-punched him back. “Ass. And thank you.” Interesting how not winning could still be a victory—to your friends.

  Shaz descended like an apricot-haired mother hen. “Enough. This man needs champagne. A lot of champagne.” He shoved a glass into Merle’s hand.

  Billy Ballew, Shaz’s husband, brought the bottle. He grinned. “For refills.”

  They all clinked glasses and sipped.

  Ru said, “You’re staying with us, right?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “You kidding? We’ll keep you if we can.”

  Billy drank his champagne like a guy who was still trying to get used to it. A barely reformed blue-collar guy. “Will you have time to see how the remodel’s going tomorrow, or do you have to get back?”

  “I have a few days off shooting, and I can’t wait to see my place.” That was 100 percent true. He was thrilled to have his own home in Laguna near his friends.

  A small combo started playing in the next room, and some of the guests filed in there, including all four of Merle’s best friends. He glanced around the room. A couple of the blue-collar guys were cute and totally his type, but they’d shit if he asked any of them to dance.

  “Would you like to?” The slightly accented voice came from behind him. Merle turned to stand eye to hairline with a breathtakingly handsome movie actor he’d seen in a couple of recent films. The guy might be vertically challenged, but he was so good-looking otherwise, producers were happy to supply boxes for him to stand on. He extended a hand. “Darren Lincoln.”

  “Hi. Merle Justice.”

  “Of course, I know. We all watched the Emmys. Shaz made it required viewing.”

  Merle made a face and Darren laughed, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, want
to dance?”

  “Sure.” He followed Darren’s slim figure into the next room, where the dance floor had been set up amid the makeup and styling tables of Shaz’s business. Darren turned and started to dance, bobbing and weaving awkwardly, but he seemed to think he was Gene Kelly, so Merle just followed along subtly. Dancing was definitely one of Merle’s strengths, but he didn’t want to show up Darren. No use making enemies.

  When the music changed to something slow, Darren pulled him in close and started to lead. Sure, what the hell?

  “You’re a decent dancer, Justice. Maybe a few lessons and you can put it on your resume.”

  Merle sighed very softly. Man, I hate this shit.

  Darren twirled him with a heavy hand, feeding him out until he bumped another couple. Merle grimaced. “Sorry.”

  Darren pulled him back close. “Too bad about the award thing. Otto’s just so talented and a serious actor, after all. I do think it’s great that the committee decided to bend to public opinion and give a token nomination to one of the kid’s series.”

  A muscle in Merle’s jaw jumped. “Just to prove to the viewers that they’re not total idiots, I assume?”

  “Yes, exactly.” He nodded enthusiastically. Not big on the recognition of sarcasm, apparently. Darren leaned back and looked into Merle’s face. “I’m sure the awards producers have to get the masses watching their show, just like anyone on the small screen.”