I get more wet sand. When I come back, he has four small towers, and he’s starting on the walls. “Now this is a castle,” he says. “You ever build these as a kid?”
“Of course.” I dump my sand and start adding it to the pile. It’s about halfway finished, and I’ll probably need one, maybe two more buckets. “We used to come to this beach a lot when I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“Sure, this was our beach. Dad and I would set up over there. He’d sit out in the sun all day without sunscreen. The first visit, he’d be bright red and cursing all night. Then after that, he’d be super tan.”
Shaun laughs. “Did he make you wear sunscreen?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “He wasn’t always the drunk, irresponsible asshole he is now.”
“What happened to him?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Well, I think I can guess.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I glance at him and frown. “What do you care?”
“Pretend I don’t. But I’m asking anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “My dad was always ambitious,” I say. “And I think the world’s let him down one too many times.”
“But you guys have Divas,” he points out.
“Divas was mine,” I say. “I came up with the concept. I scouted the talent. I put Divas together. He just rubber-stamped the project.”
He builds quietly for a time. He puts up the walls between his four towers then puts a tower in the center. He leans back and grins. “Castle,” he says.
“Beautiful. But it needs to be taller.”
He tilts his head. “I’ll work on it.”
“Good.” I get up and trudge back to the wet sand. I get more, plus a little water, and trudge back. I wet the pile I have already before it can crumble and fall before starting to add more sand.
He sits there and watches me. “I know a thing or two about ambitious parents,” he says.
“I’m sure you do,” I murmur.
“My father is the opposite of yours. Loves to hunt and fish, but doesn’t do much. He wasn’t around much when we were growing up. I just remember a blob where my father’s face should be.”
I glance over at him. He’s leaning back again, watching me work. “That’s a shame,” I say, more to be polite than anything else. I wish he’d stop talking. “Must have been hard.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes it was nice, you know? Never had to worry about him. But my mother…”
“She’s the head of the family, right?” I look up and meet his beautiful gaze. He smirks and nods.
“So you listened.”
“Not everyone’s an asshole like you.”
He laughs and I go back to building. He sighs and tilts his face up toward the sun. “I think my mother is a good person,” he says. “But it’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? Hard to think of your parents as anything but good people.”
“Not really,” I say. “My father’s a bastard.”
“Come on. You don’t really think that. I mean, all this is insane, and I’d hate him too if I were you, but you don’t think he’s a bad person.”
I hesitate. I have a response on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate anyway. I think back to my childhood, to the way he raised me as a single dad, to the way he helped me through school, to the way he guided me into the business. So he’s always been kind of smarmy, but he wasn’t always an outright bastard.
“No, I don’t,” I admit. “I hate him right now. But I don’t think he’s a bad person.”
He laughs. “God, that’s so interesting. Don’t you think? Even after this, you can’t hate him.”
“He’s my dad.” I meet his gaze and smile. “You’re not.”
He laughs again, clearly loving it. I look away and go back to building. He turns away and goes back to adding to his own castle, expanding it outward, adding more small towers and walls, but not making it higher.
When I’m done with my bucket, I look up. “Check,” I call out.
Ryan comes running with a tape measure. He flips it out and pulls it, frowning at the number. Shaun watches, more curious than anything else.
“Well… Looks like we have a winner!” Ryan laughs and grins at me. “Just a hair over two feet. Congrats!”
“Great.” I stand up and kick the tower as hard as I can. Sand sprays all over and some of the kids glare at me. “Sorry,” I say to them.
Shaun watches me but he doesn’t laugh this time. I storm away, but he gets up and follows me.
“Look, I know you don’t trust my intentions here,” he says. “But I’m trying to help you.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.” I wish he’d leave me alone. I don’t want to feel bad for his childhood. I don’t want to know him at all. I just want to win this contest and never, ever see his stupid, gorgeous face again.