Weirdly, I let him and give him details that his “nipples get hard” over. He and his goddamn hard nipples. Such a fucking weirdo.
I pick up a green candle, liking the color, and glance at the label—Flannel.
Huh, interesting.
How does one capture the smell of flannel? In my head, it’s going to smell like a man who’s been chopping up wood for two hours.
Tentatively, I pop open the lid and take a deep breath.
Big mistake.
“Oh fuck.” I cringe and put the candle right back where I found it while blowing air out of my nose, trying to expel the scent. Clutching the coffee beans, I bury my nose inside the mason jar and reconsider the whole candle thing. Flannel just about singed every hair in my nose.
“Reid?”
Crap. Spotted.
Turning on my heel, coffee beans still clutched to my chest, I find Ren, Griff’s girlfriend, with a small basket in hand and a confused look on her face. I don’t blame her; I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m caught in the newspaper tomorrow with the headline Abnormal Spotting: Loser Knightly Sniffing Candles with the subtitle Has He Finally Hit Rock Bottom?
I give her a small wave and then stick my hand in my pocket, all of a sudden feeling awkward as fuck. “Uh, hey, Ren. What’s up?”
“Hey, I’ve never seen you in here before.” With a conspiratorial look, she says, “Trying to avoid your dad again?”
It’s a known fact Ren is obsessed with Sticks and Wicks. Griffin has bought her so many things from this quaint little shop, which is nestled in the heart of Main Street. It’s full of candles, incense, and all good-smelling things, so you’re likely to find any number of Knightly women perusing the stock on any given day, which I should have taken into consideration when coming in here.
“I’m always avoiding my dad, but this time I thought, you know, I might check out some candles.”
She glances over my shoulder. “You tried Flannel?”
“Pretty sure they captured twelve pairs of sweaty balls and added a hint of mint to it.”
“That’s quite accurate.” She walks up to me and bops me on the nose. “You’ve got a good sniffer. You’re in the wrong area, though. These are on sale for a reason. No one ever buys them.” She takes my arm. “Come on, I’ll show you the good stuff.”
“But is the good stuff included in the sale from the newspaper?”
She winks at me. “The ad didn’t specify, so when you go to check out, tell Melanie, and she’ll have to honor it.”
“You know, Ren, I don’t think we hang out enough.”
She throws her head back as she laughs and guides me to the left of the store, where all the candles are color coordinated. I didn’t come over here because it looked too fancy. “I’m pretty sure Griffin would hate it if we hung out more.”
“Why? Because I know all of his secrets? He should be scared, and since he’s not here right now, what do you want to know?”
Ren glances around before leaning in. “How about a candle for some intel? Is that a deal?”
“You don’t even have to get me the candle. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
“But then I would feel guilty. Come on, tit for tat.”
I raise an eyebrow. “If Griffin knew you were offering me your tit for my tat, I’m pretty sure he’d lose his mind.”
She shoves my shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She holds out her hand. “Is it a deal?”
I’m not a stupid man, and I want a nice candle, so I shake her hand, ready to throw my brother under the bus. Hey, I’ll do whatever it takes to impress a girl. I mean, Eve did say that I was adulting, and she noticed my matching dish towels, so imagine her reaction if she sees a candle burning the next time she comes over.
“Deal.” I rub my hands together. “Candle first, though. I want something that smells fresh and clean, maybe a little manly . . . nothing flowery.”
“I got just the one.” She reaches for a candle and holds it out. “Mahogany Teakwood. Trust me, it’s perfect for you.”
“Yeah?” I open the lid and breathe in the candle. “Smells like an expensive cologne.”
“Exactly. It’s perfect. If, you know, you have a girl over”—Ren raises her eyebrows—“she’ll love it. And I happen to know one girl in particular who really likes this scent.”
Jesus Christ. Could she be any less subtle?
“Griffin told you,” I deadpan.
A grin spreads across her face, and she clasps my hands in hers, practically gushing with glee. “Oh my gosh, he made me swear I wouldn’t say anything, but gah! Reid, I am so excited. You two are so cute together.”
“Shhh.” I look around, thankful no one is paying attention. “For the love of God, don’t go spreading it around. Eve is already pissed I told the boys and Jen. I can’t have anyone else finding out.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “I haven’t told anyone, but just so you know, Harper knows as well. Seems like your brothers aren’t good at keeping secrets from their significant others.”
“Figures.” I drag my hand over my face. “Okay, just don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Especially not to Eve. Just pretend like you know nothing. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Of course.”
I definitely don’t believe her, but there’s only so much I can do. I never should have told Brig in the first place—that was mistake number one. Then again, who else could I have told? Griffin and Rogan both are connected to Harper and Ren, who are Eve’s friends. Jen is also Eve’s friend, so that left Brig. It’s really not my fault. It’s actually Eve’s fault—for being friends with everyone.
“But can I just say, you two are adorable. Oh my God, I just keep picturing what your babies would look like.”
For fuck’s sake.
“You need to stay away from Brig—he’s getting to you. Let me guess, you also think the curse is broken.”
“Oh no.” She waves her hand, dismissing the notion. “I’ve never believed in that stupid thing. From the moment I heard about it, I knew it wasn’t true. But why do you ask? Do you believe in it?”
I shrug and stare down at the candle. “So teakwood, huh?”
“Oh my God, Reid Knightly, you do not believe in it, do you?” I shrug, and she continues, “So you’re telling me that even though you were drunk at the time, you can one hundred percent verify every detail about that story—the yellow eyes, the wind, and everything else?”
I point at her. “You weren’t there; you don’t get an opinion.”
Chuckling, she shakes her head and reaches for another candle. “You Knightlys are deranged.” She hands me the candle. “Bergamot Waters should be your second one.”
I smell the candle when she removes the lid, and I have to admit that one is just as good. “Damn, that smells amazing.”
She takes both candles and puts them in her basket.
“The deal was one candle.”
“And the sale calls for two. Since I invaded your love life, we’ll call that one.”
“Well, if you’re offering . . .” I pull a second set down of the same scents and hand them over. “For someone special.”
Ren lights up but keeps her mouth shut as she sets them in her basket.
“Now for my payment,” she says, getting back to business. “Why does Griffin refuse to eat anything with eggplant in it? He just says he doesn’t like it, but I swear there’s something he’s not telling me. Am I right?”
My lips turn up as I nod. “Oh yeah, there’s a story.”
“I knew it.” She steps closer. “Tell me.”
“Well . . .” I draw out the moment, savoring the anticipation on her face. “It was his senior year in high school. He went out with Rogan, Harper, and Claire to some Italian restaurant where he had the best eggplant parm of his life—at least that’s what he said at the time.”
“Oh no. Food poisoning?”
“Nope.” I chuckle. “After dinner they went to the carnival up in Pott
smouth.”
“Oh no, did he get on one of those scrambler rides?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “He went on the Ferris wheel and got stuck up at the very top. It was windy; he got nauseous and threw up all over the place.”
Ren covers her mouth and shakes her head. “Oh, poor Griffin.”
“That’s not even the worst part. He wasn’t good at deciding where to throw up, so he wound up getting the mayor right down the back. It was in the newspaper for at least a week.”
“Oh no.” She laughs some more. “He threw up on the mayor? That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, and the mayor at the time was a real dickhead and made Griff’s life hell. And as you know, to this day, he won’t have anything to do with eggplants.”
“Well.” Ren grips my shoulder. “This was a very wonderful and educational bump-in. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Now let’s go pay for these candles so you can impress that lady of yours.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like an eighty-year-old woman.”
“I’m okay with that.” She loops her arm in mine and leans her head on my shoulder. It feels good, like family, and that’s exactly what she is.
Griffin: You fucking told her?????
Rogan: Ooo, told who what?
Brig: Must be bad if Griffin used five question marks. Don’t you know, dude, one is sufficient. Text messaging has truly butchered the English language.
Reid: I’m not even sorry.
Griffin: You sold me out for CANDLES. What the fuck, man?
Rogan: **Leans in**
Brig: **Salivates**
Jen: Oh damn **cups ear**
Brig: Tell us, tell us what you did.
Griffin: He told Ren about the eggplant story in exchange for candles.
Reid: For the record, her idea, not mine.
Rogan: Oh damn.
Brig: Is that when you puked on the Ferris wheel?
Jen: Onto the mayor?
Griffin: That’s the one. I was doing pretty damn well avoiding that story until Reid.
Reid: I don’t have any regrets. I got some candles and it serves you right for opening your mouth to Ren about Eve. Let this be a reminder to all of you, I do not hold back.
Rogan: Sooo, if I told Harper, what would happen to me?
Brig: I vote kick him in the crotch. Kick him in the crotch!
Jen: ^^ I second that.
Griffin: It’s only fair.
Rogan: Shut the fuck up, Griffin, you don’t get a say.
Griffin: Eggplant story. He told my girlfriend the eggplant story.
Rogan: It could have been way worse.
Griffin: How so? Now she probably thinks of me as the guy who threw up on a Ferris wheel . . . when it wasn’t even moving.
Reid: Whining doesn’t look pretty on you, Griff.
Brig: Doesn’t go well with your complexion.
Jen: You guys should see his face right now, bright red.
Rogan: Are his nostrils flared too?
Reid: Yes, can we get a nostril check?
Brig: Dying to know about the nostrils.
Jen: Nostrils are flared, I repeat, nostrils are flared. And that vein near his temple is throbbing.
Griffin: I hope you all enjoy hell together.
Reid: Let this serve as a reminder to all of you: don’t fuck with me.
CHAPTER TEN
EVE
“I can’t believe you actually returned my call,” says Avery, one of my best friends from high school, her voice filtering through my phone. “Have you become a celebrity in Port Snow without telling me? Are you so inundated with autograph requests and appearances at Snow Roast that you couldn’t possibly call your best friend back?” I can’t help but smile. Typical Avery. I miss one phone call, and she acts like I never talk to her.
Walking down the hill where the Lighthouse Inn is situated, and toward Main Street, I secure my earbuds. Snow is piled up on the edges of the sidewalk, and the roads are slick with a fresh flurry from this morning. “Yup, I’m the queen of Port Snow. They have me living up in the mayor’s house, and I have my own assistant who brings me afternoon tea every day. It’s a grand life.”
“You bitch, and you didn’t tell me?”
We both laugh. “What I wouldn’t give for an assistant who brings me afternoon tea every day. That would be the life,” she says wistfully.
“How is the job, by the way? Loving it or hating it?”
Five years ago Avery moved from Port Snow to New York City to pursue her acting career. She was a huge theater geek growing up, was the lead in every Port Snow play, and even dabbled in some commercials here and there when she had a chance. But she didn’t become completely serious until she finally dropped out of community college and fled to the city. Her parents were furious, and there was a moment, right around when my dad died, when she tried to toss away her dream, but I stopped her from calling it quits and coming home. She’s meant to act.
But she hasn’t had her big break yet, so her new job consists of singing show tunes and waitressing at a kitschy cabaret restaurant in Manhattan, where the special every night is a house-made meatloaf with cheesy mashed potatoes.
“Hating it,” she groans. “Because I have blonde hair, my costume consists of lederhosen made from old drapes, and I spend every night singing songs from The Sound of Music. I mean, I should be honored, but every time I break into ‘Do-Re-Mi,’ I truly want to pistol-whip my own face.”
A loud laugh rumbles up and out of my throat. “Oh, please send a picture. I really want to see you in that outfit.”
“There will be no photographic evidence of this job. It’s paying the bills until I hear back about a big audition I just had.”
“Oooh, tell me about it.”
“It’s for a movie.”
“What? Seriously? What kind?”
“Romantic comedy, of course. You know this all-American girl wasn’t born for anything else.” It’s true—she’s the perfect lead for any romantic comedy. Bubbly, sweet, energetic. She reminds me a lot of Reese Witherspoon.
“That’s so exciting! How did the audition go?”
“Pretty well, I think. I mean, I’m trying not to get super excited about it, but I left feeling good. I’m hoping for a callback in the next few days.”
“I’ll have my fingers crossed.” I make it down the hill, turn left onto Main Street, and head straight for the giant white building with red and teal accents: the Lobster Landing. The building is iconic in Port Snow, sitting right at the end of Main Street, which is a tourist mecca with a picnic-table courtyard, the Jake’s Cakes food truck, and harbor-tour kiosks.
“What about you? What’s been keeping you so busy that you couldn’t call me back in over a week?”
If there’s one person I can talk to about my current romantic relationship, it’s Avery. She’s known all about my crush on Reid since middle school, and she’s quite aware of “the curse.”
“So, I might have started a little relationship.”
“A little relationship?” she shrieks. “With who? Oh my God, wait, let me guess. Hmm . . . is it Jake? I know you can’t get enough of his crab cakes, plus he’s so yummy.”
“Not Jake.”
“Okay, I mean, that would have been a good match, but I can let that one go. Hmm, oh, how about Oliver over at the general store? He’s so mysterious, always churning his ice cream but not saying much besides what flavors he’s making. Have you gotten him to open up?”
Oliver is kind of a mystery.
“No, not Oliver. He’s a little too quiet for me.”
“Fair enough. Okay, give me a second. I’m trying to think of all the single guys in Port Snow. Well, it’s definitely not Tracker because you’ve told me before that his man-whore ways aren’t for you. Right?”
“Correct.”
“Well, if it’s not Tracker and . . . oh wait.” A smile crosses my face, but she says, “Caleb, it’s got to be Caleb.”
&n
bsp; Oh boy. Maybe she’s not as in tune with me as I thought she was.
“Didn’t he recently get divorced? Look at you, snagging him. He’s super sexy behind that camera of his.”
The local photographer, Caleb, shoots everything from scenic pictures of Port Snow to weddings to graduations to boudoir. He lives high up on a hill in a little cottage that overlooks a cliff, which he might turn into a wedding venue. I believe he told Mrs. Davenport, who then told everyone, that if he couldn’t make his marriage work, he could at least help others make some happy memories.
“It’s not Caleb.” I slow my pace, taking in the little shops on Main Street. I pass the local art gallery and peek inside the window, where I spot Beck, Port Snow’s new artist and curator. I give him a quick wave, which he returns, and keep moving.
“Well, then I give up. Who else is there? I mean, yeah, there are some other singles hanging around, but none that we’ve talked about.” She pauses and then laughs. “It could be a Knightly.” More laughter fills my earbuds. “Yeah, like that would happen. Who’s even left? Brig and Reid? Brig is way too—” She pauses, and I swear I can hear her mind working on overdrive. “Holy. Shit. Eve, are you seeing Reid Knightly?”
Why is it impossible to hold back a smile when I hear his name? Am I really that smitten?
“Might be him.”
“Might be or is? I need some solid confirmation here because this is huge.”
“Yes, it’s Reid,” I say quietly, making sure no one overhears me.
“Oh my God!” she screams. “You’re dating Reid Knightly? Since when? For how long? Why did you not tell me right away? I’m so mad at you!”
“Settle down, okay? It’s been a little over a week, and I honestly didn’t really think it was the real deal at first.”
“How did it happen?”
“Well, it kind of came out of nowhere. I think he’s had feelings for me for a little while and decided to act on them.”
“Of course he’s had feelings for you—any person with eyes would be able to see that. So he made the first move?”
“Yeah, he likes to think I did, but it was totally him. It was the night of my dad’s death anniversary; he was at the Inn and asked me to dance after he made me take a few shots.”
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