Beach Reads

by Adriana Locke

  She felt a frisson of energy skate over her skin and knew he was here.

  “Hot Fly Boy just landed,” Leeta hissed as she passed by with an empty tray.

  “He has a name,” McKinley shot back and studiously avoided the corner of the bar that Colton Hayes had just bellied up to. He was beyond cute and charming and smart and seemingly sweet. And that was the problem.

  She’d fallen for that kind of package once before and look how that had ended. Her husband had become a stranger on the other side of the table with a lawyer.

  While her standard brushoff “I don’t date customers” worked on most men, Colton was immune, determined, ridiculous.

  Against her will, her gaze skimmed over him. Dark hair that curled at the ends, sharp green eyes with soft laugh lines. He was never clean-shaven and always tan, suggesting some kind of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean lineage. He gave her a wave and an easy grin and she felt the corners of her mouth lifting. He wore a pine green polo that made his eyes look even brighter. McKinley returned her attention to the double rum and Cokes she was pouring and let herself secretly enjoy the weight of his gaze on her.

  “Hey, there, Kinley.” His voice was deep and smooth like that very nice bottle of Lagavulin on the top shelf.

  “Hey, Colt,” she said, ordering her pulse to calm the hell down. She wasn’t interested.

  She dropped the rum and Cokes off at their rightful owners and wiped her palms on the back of her cutoffs.

  “How’s our favorite bartender?” Colton’s friend and fellow pilot, Chelsea, rested her elbows on the bar and reached for the stack of menus on top of the cooler under the bar. Her red hair was tied back in the trademark ponytail atop her head. She wore a pink tank top and three leather corded necklaces. They were regulars and would serve themselves if McKinley let them.

  “If I see her, I’ll ask her,” McKinley quipped. “How were the friendly skies today?”

  “Beautiful,” Colton said.

  “Sounds like you’re talking about more than the skies,” Talia spoke up as she arrived. Black, bold, and beautiful, she was the smartass of their little group. Colton slid off his stool and waved his friend onto it.

  Always the gentleman. He’d been too consistent over the last eight months for it to be an act. But people changed, McKinley reminded herself.

  “The usual?” McKinley asked. She was always pricklier when he was around because she didn’t trust herself completely to stay firm in her resolve not to dive into another relationship. And that’s exactly what Colton was looking for. He didn’t dabble in sex and one-night stands. He had the look of “sexy pilot seeking lifelong commitment” written all over him and had said as much in their conversations.

  “Yes, please,” Chelsea said, slapping a palm on the menu and sliding it over to Talia.

  “Where’s the rest of your party?” she asked.

  “Milt and Sonny hit the dance floor first,” Colton said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the music. Rounding out the airport crew were Milt, a flight instructor with a mountain man beard, and Sonny, a lanky mechanic with a booming laugh. They made it to the bar a good three nights a week. None of them ever drank too much. They all tipped over twenty percent. And Colton and Sonny had, on more than one occasion, walked inebriated customers back to their hotels for her.

  And every visit, Colton asked her out.

  McKinley rang in their order, a pitcher of beer, waters all around, and loaded fries. And snagged the bar phone when it rang next to her elbow.

  “Sunset Point,” she said, tucking the phone into her shoulder and starting the pitcher pour.

  “Hi. Is this McKinley?” a female voice asked.

  “That’s me.”

  “Great! My name is Faith and I’d like you to reconsider your stance on Colton Hayes.”

  McKinley turned around to stare at Colton. He was laughing at some story Chelsea was telling. As if sensing her, he turned those bottle green eyes on her. He cocked his head to the side, questioning.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Now he was putting strangers up to annoying her. His charm was slipping.

  “He didn’t put me up to this,” the caller said quickly, as if reading her mind. “And you probably shouldn’t tell him. It’s just, I’m one of his students and I honestly have never met a kinder heart. I have cancer— had,” Faith corrected herself.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” McKinley said, recalling a few stories Colton had shared about Faith, his gum-cracking, cancer-fighting student.

  “No need to be sorry. I’m still here, kickin’ ass. Anyway, Colt is one of the nicest people on the planet. He waved my flight lesson fees and donated his time and sent me flowers after my last radiation treatment. I couldn’t think of the right way to say thank you until now. So, what I’m saying is you should go out with him.”

  McKinley held Colton’s gaze. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she said lightly.

  “Look, honey. I know that it can be tough. Dating today sucks. I thank my lucky stars that I found my husband when I did and don’t need to deal with any of that ‘swipe right’ bullshit. But this is a no-brainer. Colt’s smart, sweet, gorgeous, and he thinks you’re amazing. What the hell else do you want? Give him a shot.”

  There was a muffled noise in the background of the call and McKinley put her finger in her ear to hear better over the music.

  “I gotta go. Al’s in the hot tub. Listen, woman to woman, life is too short to be careful. Okay? Oh, and I’m trusting Colt’s judgement on you. If you’re a terrible person, forget I called.”

  McKinley frowned, considering the woman’s words. “Okay?” It was more of a question than a statement.

  “Great. Good luck!” Faith hung up leaving McKinley flustered.

  She shut off the tap that was overflowing beer from the mouth of the pitcher like a frothy waterfall. She wiped it down with a clean towel and crossed to Colton’s party. She dropped the pitcher in front of him and handed over their plastic cups. His fingers brushed hers as he took them from her. And she felt that damn zing through her blood. Every time they touched, no matter how casually, it was there.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low.

  No everything was not okay. Not with a little patty fingers sending a blush to her cheeks and neck and probably her entire torso. Why was it so damn hot in here with the Florida coastal breeze picking up the ends of her hair and playing with it? It was not okay. Not with people calling her at work to lobby for him. Either he was the most determined player she’d ever met in her life or he was the nice guy everyone insisted he was. And McKinley didn’t know which option made her jumpier.

  “It’s fine. Everything is fine,” she said, dragging her hand away from his.

  “Excuse me, miss?” a woman across the bar flagged her down.

  McKinley took a deep breath, pasted a breezy smile on her face, and did her job.

  Three

  Colton

  She was always in motion. It was hypnotic, watching the swing of her hair, those heavy ropes of curls that hung down her back in a riot of brown and blonde and gold. She was quick, efficient, and a damn poem for the eyes. She laughed boldly, smiled widely. And nothing ever threw her. Not a spilled pitcher of margaritas down her tank, not a customer arguing over the charge for bacon. And certainly not a persistent flight instructor.

  McKinley was always under control. Her favorite color was deep purple. She loved sweet potato fries and fish tacos, and had a degree in hospitality management from Virginia Tech. She was divorced and didn’t date customers. He’d made a game of slow nights at the bar, asking her questions, conversations in between filling drink orders. And little by little, piece by piece, they’d gotten to know each other.

  Talia elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop staring. You’ll scare her off and I won’t get a refill.”

  “I’m not staring,” he lied. They’d always shared long looks across the bar. But tonight there was something more in those lovely brown
eyes of hers.

  “You haven’t blinked in four minutes.”

  His dad always loved to tell the story of the first time he met Colton’s mother. In the produce section over a selection of overripe avocados. He took one look at her, in her pretty pearl-buttoned cardigan and ponytail and knew she was the future Mrs. Hayes. He asked her out on the spot and ten months later they were married.

  Colton hadn’t thought of marriage the first time he’d seen McKinley in her red Sunset Point tank top and frayed cutoffs. But the longer his exposure to her, the more fascinated he was. He felt like a high school freshman again when eighth grader Becca Slater walked by with her sexy little overbite and long, black hair.

  She swung by, empties in her hand. Colton purposely chose to sit near the glass washer so he was guaranteed face time.

  “What’s the question tonight?” McKinley asked him as she dumped the glasses onto the rotating tray.

  Colton showed up every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday night armed with a question designed to pry McKinley open. They sparred, verbally, over the course of the night and when Colton left, it was always with a little more knowledge about the woman who fascinated him.

  “What did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked, twisting his pint glass in a slow circle on its coaster.

  “Mmm,” she said, eyebrows lifting in appreciation. She spun off to mix a half-dozen specialty drinks. It was how their conversations flowed on Saturdays. In fits and spurts between beers.

  “Hey, sweetheart!” A barrel-chested man with a sunburnt nose and sunglasses worn backwards on his head whistled for McKinley’s attention. Colton noticed the stiffening of her shoulders and wondered if the guy realized her smile was just a few degrees above frost.

  “Me and my new friends here are ready for another round,” he said, throwing his thick arms around two bikini clad women who had come in together. The women looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  Warning bells triggered in the back of Colton’s head.

  McKinley approached the threesome. “You all want some food?” she asked, slapping a food menu down in front of the man.

  He shoved the menu back at her. “What we want is tequila. Doubles,” he cackled.

  Talia laid a hand on Colton’s arm. “She’s got it.”

  Colton slowly loosened his death grip on his fork. But he kept his attention on the drama playing out across the bar.

  “You ladies know this gentleman?” McKinley asked, leaning her elbows on the bar friendly as can be.

  They shook their heads.

  “I’m Barry. We’re old friends,” the man insisted, slurring a bit and listing to one side. “This is my friend Buffy and my other friend Muffy.” He laughed at his own humor, a loud guffaw that drew eyes from all around the bar.

  “Here’s the thing, sir. I think these ladies were having a very nice evening without you and I’m going to ask you very nicely to back off,” McKinley said. The women looked relieved, but the man went red in the face.

  “Do your fucking job and pour us some tequila,” Barry said, leaning into McKinley’s space.

  Colton pushed his stool back and stood.

  “I think you’ve had enough, sir,” McKinley said, unruffled. “And I think these ladies would appreciate it if you headed back to your hotel and slept this off.”

  Barry reached across the bar and grabbed her by the arm. “Tequila, twat.” The crowd went silent.

  Colton was around the bar with Milt, Sonny, and Chelsea hot on his heels.

  “You’re gonna want to move that hand, Barry,” McKinley said, staring down at the ham fist closed around her elbow. “And you’re going to want to leave, now.” Cool as a cucumber in a glass of spa water.

  He sneered at her and Colton cleared his throat. “There a problem here?” he asked, keeping his voice mild.

  “Yeah, this bitch won’t pour the tequila.”

  At this point, there was no reason to do things quietly. Colton grabbed the man by the collar of his sweaty Hawaiian shirt. “Let’s go visit the parking lot,” he said, squeezing the guy’s arm until he broke his hold on McKinley.

  The crowd cheered as Colton and Sonny shoved Barry toward the back entrance. He put up an alcohol-fueled fight on the way out, but Colton didn’t mind the chance to throw a few elbows. And when Barry tripped over his own damn sandals and landed face down in the gutter, Colton took pleasure in watching him flail on the ground like a beached whale.

  “Problem?” A police cruiser rolled up, windows down, on its usual bar patrol.

  “They assaulted me!” Barry howled.

  “Hey, Lance,” Colton greeted the beat cop.

  “How’s it going, Colt?”

  “We escorted this lovely human being from the bar where he verbally assaulted several female customers and staff, sir,” Sonny reported, showing his military roots.

  Lance got out of the car on a long sigh. “Anyone inside interested in pressing charges?”

  “Not likely,” Colton put in.

  “All right. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Thanks, man.” Colton shook Lance’s hand and left the braying Barry to his fate.

  He and Sonny returned, the victorious happy hour heroes. McKinley didn’t make a fuss, merely set a fresh pitcher of beer in front of them with a quiet “on the house”.

  McKinley’s right-hand server and friend, Leeta, was more effusive. She leaned over the bar and gave them all smacking kisses right on the mouth… including Talia and Chelsea, much to the delight of the crowd.

  * * *

  --

  * * *

  One of the best things about living in a vacation destination was Colton never knew what was going to happen from one night to the next. Not an hour after Barry was hauled off in the back of Lance’s cruiser, another fuss stirred up on Sunset Point’s deck.

  A chorus of “oohs and awhs” rippled through the crowd. Even the band cut off mid-song. Colton craned his neck to see what the fuss was about and spotted a skinny brown dog limping its way across the deck. The dog made a beeline behind the bar and plopped his ass down in front of McKinley, tail thumping gently on the wood floor.

  “What in the—awh!” Leeta the deck server crooned at the dog.

  “Where’d you come from buddy?” McKinley asked, crouching down. The dog scooted closer and lifted his front paw. And Colton saw something he’d never seen in McKinley’s pretty brown eyes before. A softness.

  Hesitantly, she accepted the offered paw. McKinley didn’t have dogs. She’d grown up in a petless family, Colton knew from their ongoing getting-to-know-you conversation.

  “You’re a little banged up, aren’t you bud?” She looked up at the audience leaning over the bar. “Anyone know any doggy first aid?”

  Colton raised his hand.

  McKinley nodded at him. “Come on back, Colt.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d let him behind the bar. At six-foot-three, he was useful for reaching the top shelf.

  He liked being invited into her space.

  He crouched down next to her and held his hand out for the dog to sniff.

  “Order up!” someone called from the other side of the center bar.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, touching his arm as she rose.

  Colton examined the dog between pets and scratches. “Who’s a nice boy?” he asked, ruffling the dog’s ears. He was skinny and his paws had a few burrs in them, but besides a raw patch on his neck he seemed like he was in good shape. His smell was another story. The dog smelled like he’d gone for a swim through fish guts.

  Colton helped himself to an empty salad bowl out of the dish bin and the bar faucet. “How about some water, buddy?”

  The dog gratefully lapped up the water when Colton set the bowl in front of him, his front paw resting on Colton’s knee as if to keep him in place.

  “Not too much,” Colton cautioned with a laugh.

  “How’s he doing?” McKinley asked, hustling around the big wooden column in
the center of the bar. She dropped down next to Colton on the floor and gently scratched at the dog’s neck. His brown eyes rolled back in his head in puppy ecstasy.

  “He’s all right. Hungry and skinny and sore,” Colton told her. “But seems okay otherwise.”

  “Leeta?” McKinley called.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “Can you order our little friend here some plain chicken and rice from the kitchen?”

  “You got it,” Leeta said, fingers flying across the register screen. “Sunset’s happening. Want me to ring the bell?”

  McKinley skimmed a hand over the dog’s head. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  In Colton’s humble opinion, the best part about Sunset Point—besides its beautiful as hell bartender—was the sunset ritual.

  Leeta reached overhead and grasped the knotted rope that hung from the bell mounted to one of the wood columns. She rang it three times and a hush fell over the crowd. Every night, the patrons of Sunset Point gathered at the railing and watched in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  For someone who was as enamored with the skies as Colton was, paying homage to the sunset was poetic. For a minute, silence fell over the bar. The band cut mid-song. The drunken giggles slowly quieted and everyone just watched as the sun slipped beneath the water, leaving a blaze of pinks and oranges and reds in its wake.

  McKinley was close enough that her shoulder rubbed his upper arm. The dog seemed to understand the significance of the moment and scooted between them, leaning against her bare leg. And for a few seconds, Colton’s life was perfect.

  His thoughts were full of sunsets and avocados.