“Is that why you ran out on him this morning?”
Sophie hadn’t tried to hide it, but a flutter of foolishness rumbled her stomach. She shrugged, not sure how to answer.
Lucy let a few minutes go by while Sophie sipped at her shake. She had something more to say, but Sophie knew she wouldn’t say it until she was ready.
“I need a job this fall,” Sophie said, half hoping to derail Lucy’s forthcoming statement. No matter what she said, Sophie knew she’d be right. They’d grown up together, and Lucy had been working in this diner—her father’s diner—since she was thirteen. She understood Sophie’s devotion to The Sandy Tortilla.
But Lucy was working to make her father proud. Sophie was so focused on her taco stand to make sure her father wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing she’d failed the way he had.
He’s been dead for five years, a voice in her head said. Maybe it’s time to let go of trying to prove something to him.
“Not doing well at The Sandy Tortilla?” Lucy asked.
“Things are good, actually. Better than ever since that Food Network feature. But I’m paying Mont too much,” Sophie said, pushing her ice cream away. “I needed him when Harley broke her leg. Polly’s been no help, and I can’t go back on the deal Mont and I have made.” She had some honor.
“I’ll need help during lunch once the kids start school again.”
“Great,” Sophie said. Some tourists would still be around for dinner, and she could do the lunch shift with Lucy and evening service at The Sandy Tortilla.
“You heard anything about the local fishermen being upset about the companies from Seattle coming down for Labor Day?” Sophie asked, trying again to change the subject completely.
Lucy gave her a wary look. “Yeah, a few things.”
“You buy from Hilary, right?”
“Every day,” Lucy confirmed. “I really don’t think they have anything to worry about. They haul in plenty of fish. And we’ll all buy from each other, just like we always do.”
Sophie nodded, a measure of relief sliding through her. She’d text Tripp and let him know.
“But there is a group of us getting together to discuss how we can help each other. You know, support local businesses and all that.”
Sophie leaned back in her seat. “In what way?”
Lucy waved her hand toward the hostess station. “Like me putting out brochures for Tripp’s deep-sea fishing expeditions, or giving a discount at the diner for anyone who rents one of Mike’s jet skis. That kind of stuff.”
“I want to come to any meetings you guys have,” Sophie said.
“Sure.” Lucy smiled. “It’s all talk right now, but I told Tripp we could use the diner as a meeting place, and he’s keeping a list of names. I’ll let him know you’re interested.”
“I can text him.” She started to slide out of the booth, but Lucy put her hand over Sophie’s.
“Clint’s been gone for nine months.”
Sophie frowned at the use of her ex’s name. “So what?”
“So maybe it’s time you started seeing someone else.” She gestured to the nearly empty diner, like the man of Sophie’s dreams would materialize, holding a dozen red roses and an engagement ring.
“Mont is a mighty fine specimen,” Lucy said. “Heaven knows he could loosen you up, if you’d let him.”
“I am working with Mont.” Sophie enunciated each word carefully, her temper rising. She loved Lucy, who hadn’t dated anyone since Blaine left town several years ago. What right did she have to advise Sophie in her love life?
“Work can sometimes turn into play,” Lucy said, smiling. She removed her hand from Sophie’s, her piece said.
“What about you?” Sophie challenged. “You go out with someone—and not to dinner at your own diner—and I’ll…mix business and pleasure.” The very idea gave her chills in all the right places.
Lucy stood, a satisfied smirk riding her lips. She pulled her phone from her skirt pocket and sent a text. Only seconds passed before her cell chirped. A grin split her face. “Done. You better get mixing.”
Horror warred with the ice cream Sophie had eaten. “Who did you text?” She knew Lucy wouldn’t go out with anyone in Redwood Bay. They’d all tried.
“Blaine,” Lucy said over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen. Sophie fumed as she pulled out her own phone and texted Blaine.
Sure enough, he confirmed he would be taking Lucy to the movies tomorrow night.
So get to asking out that blond god—Lucy’s words, not mine, Blaine texted.
Sophie stomped out of the diner. They were ganging up on her!
She drove home to change her clothes and freshen her makeup—not for Mont. She didn’t care what he thought of her. She’d just realized she liked feeling more put together, and jeans and mascara helped with that.
It absolutely had nothing to do with the blond god she worked with every night.
“I made this for you.” Mont’s voice drew Sophie’s attention from the mini-fridge in the corner of the taco shack. She’d known he’d arrived. His presence called to her, made her aware of him before he announced himself.
He held a balloon monstrosity toward her, but she simply blinked.
“It’s a hat.” He stepped through the doorway, his height momentarily blocking the sunlight. “It’s a taco.”
A thread of laughter escaped her throat. “A taco?” She reached for the hat. Two yellow balloons made up the opening for her head, curling up into what were the outer shells. A red balloon ran between the two ends—the meat—and green bubbles were attached to that. Lettuce.
He exhaled as a storm moved through his eyes. “Must be a pretty terrible rendition if you can’t even tell what it is.”
“I can tell,” she said quickly as she stuffed her head between the two yellow balloons. “It’s fantastic.”
He smiled, but it didn’t have nearly the mega-wattage his grins usually did. Sophie immediately knew she’d be working with Mont-the-Grumpy for the evening.
“Rough afternoon?” she asked casually, returning to the fridge to get out the sour cream.
“It was fine,” he said.
Sophie cocked an eyebrow at him, but he’d turned his back to her to tie on his apron. Though she took a moment to admire the way his blue shorts hugged his hips, she frowned. He’d never shut her out of a conversation before. She was the expert at that, as evidenced by how quickly she’d run away at breakfast.
Sadness pricked her heart. She hadn’t meant to shut down on him. She knew she was too focused on her work. Clint had told her countless times, but she’d brushed off his complaints. Blaine had mentioned she could take a day or two off every now and then, but she rationalized that she had a lot of downtime in the off-season.
But having Mont spell it out so simply hurt. For some reason, his words were hitting home when nothing else had.
Sophie didn’t want to be so focused on making tacos that she didn’t see the man before her. Because he was a glorious sight to behold. He filled the shack, both in body and presence, and she wanted him to know how she felt about him despite her running away that morning.
“Didn’t you get enough to eat at breakfast?” Her tone sounded teasing, but Mont’s shoulders stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that you’re obviously—”
He spun toward her. “I’m obviously what?”
Sophie’s sadness flickered into fear before it hardened into resolve. “Ridiculously good-looking,” she said. A smile sprang to her lips. “But think of how you would look wearing this spectacular taco hat. Don’t you think it accentuates my cheekbones?” She turned her head to the left and then the right.
He visibly relaxed, his shoulders drooping, his fists uncurling. “You think I’m ridiculously good-looking?”
She swallowed to coat her suddenly dry throat. Reaching up to remove the hat, she stepped closer, the thread of attraction between them tangible and tight. She pressed it on his head, tr
ying not to notice his soft, sandy-blond hair. She thought of Lucy’s challenge, thought maybe she could just brush her lips against his cheek, thought of his strong hands cradling her.
Before she could do something stupid, she stuffed all the thoughts away.
“Well, now I do.” She retreated, thanking the stars her voice only sounded a little breathless.
She returned to her prep station, heat flooding her face. She’d managed to turn her comment into a joke and help Mont relax. Maybe she could do more than make a mean burrito.
“I’m ready for my secret,” she said later that night as they were closing up. Mont had fallen into a rhythm after only a few customers. His normally cheery disposition—complete with the corny seafood and taco jokes—returned. The tip jar overflowed, and Sophie was pleased her customers were so happy.
He continued wiping the counter next to the till. “You are, are you?”
“Yes.” Sophie pretended to be adding the numbers in her ledger, but every nerve stood alert. She cared to know more about Mont, something she hadn’t experienced with a man for a while. “And I’ve got something for you too.”
Now she had his attention. He threw his disinfectant wipe into the trash and settled against the counter in his usual stance. Sophie wished he didn’t look as handsome—even wearing the silly taco hat—as he did.
“Oh? Then you get to go first.” Mont eyed her like he knew she wouldn’t.
“OK,” she said, and his eyebrows rose a bit. “I have an older brother named Jared who moved to Boston—about as far from Redwood Bay as you can get—when he was only sixteen.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, but it didn’t help. “He and my dad fought a lot.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mont said, the words barely making it across the small taco stand to Sophie’s ears. He glanced at her. “Am I allowed to ask follow-up questions?”
Against her better judgment, Sophie nodded.
“Do you miss him? Because it sounds like you miss him.”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “Dad died a while back, but Jared didn’t come home for the funeral. He hasn’t returned to Redwood Bay at all.” She ached for her brother. Her dad had said some really nasty things, and her mom hadn’t been able to provide an adequate barrier. She’d suffered with Dad just like Sophie and Jared had. Of all of them, Sophie alone could go down to the warehouse and make sure he didn’t hurt himself with his carpentry tools, or drink himself to death.
He’d often apologized to her for his temper and the cruel things he’d said, but never to the person he needed to. His pride wouldn’t allow that, and it had cost him Jared.
The anxiety Sophie had felt at Tripp’s oceanfront store came roaring back. She tried to push it away, but it didn’t go as easily as it used to. “My cards on his birthday aren’t acknowledged. I send him emails from time to time, and he doesn’t respond.”
Mont frowned, his eyes darkening into a blue the color of deep ocean. “Maybe he’s not getting them. Are you sure you have the right addresses?”
Sophie didn’t know, and she admitted as much.
“Mmm, a little investigative work.” Mont straightened and removed the taco hat. “You know I have nothing to do all day, right? And I’m a wizard on the Internet.”
Despite Sophie’s somber mood and worry about her brother, she threw her head back and laughed. “An Internet wizard? I thought they were all extinct.”
Mont laughed too. The sound made Sophie chuckle again. He bowed from the waist. “In the flesh.”
As his voice died, a new awkwardness settled between them. “I really am sorry about your brother,” Mont said.
Sophie cleared her throat and shrugged. “It’s fine. He left a long time ago, but….” She shrugged again, unsure of how to complete her sentence. She hadn’t expected Jared to come home, but it hurt that he’d cut her out of his life too.
Mont moved toward her and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Her muscles froze as her lungs sputtered to find air. She locked her eyes on his, and a flutter of excitement shot through her when she saw his vulnerability.
“Are you ready for my secret of the night?” His voice floated out in a whisper.
All Sophie could do was nod.
“I think you’re ridiculously good-looking too.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, sweeping his fingers between hers for two heartbeats before he stepped away. “See you tomorrow?”
Again, a nod was all he got in return.
Despite rising hours earlier than normal, Sophie had a hard time falling asleep that night. She could still feel the warmth from Mont’s lips on the side of her face, and she found herself cupping her cheek.
She rolled over in bed, determined to drive him from her mind. An hour later, she got up and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. Even after settling in the window seat in the living room, with the moonlit ocean for a view, she couldn’t shake her anxiety. Not because she was interested in getting to know a man, or because she needed to find more permanent help for her taco stand. But because she wanted Mont to fill both of those roles—and he wasn’t going to be around that long.
She sighed as she raised her mug to her lips. “This is a bad idea, Soph,” she whispered to herself. “He is a bad idea.” No matter what Lucy and Blaine said.
Montgomery Winters—if that was even his name—was everything she avoided in a man. Habitually late, boisterous, questioning, a dreamer. Sophie normally went for the studious, smart type, men with their feet on the ground and a solid future in their sights. Like lawyers. But she didn’t want him to become one of those either.
She reminded herself that she and Mont were merely business partners. He was an employee, and worse, a tourist. She could not get involved, no matter how interesting she found him. Or how alive he made her feel. No matter what Lucy said. The woman hadn’t dated in eight years. What did she know?
Sophie glanced toward the kitchen, where the screen of her cell phone had just lit up. Padding toward it, she steadfastly ignored the re-taped and forwarded package from her mother. Didn’t need a new teapot or gourmet teas. Didn’t want an airline voucher, or a letter from a man who said hurtful things and sent his assistant to clean out the office at his ex-fiancé’s house.
The worst part was Sophie knew Clint’s comments were true. They’d cut deep—and only truth could do that. She did love her taco stand, more than anything and anyone else. She was selfish; she didn’t want to move somewhere else and start a new life.
She and Mont couldn’t have a future together. He was an actor that longed to be famous—which included traveling and interviews—and she owned a small-town taco stand on the beach twelve hours from LA.
Her phone flashed again, and she picked it up. Mont had texted twice, asking if she was still awake and wanted to see the moon hanging over the ocean. His last message had said, You must be out cold. Talk to you later.
Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she typed out an acceptance. Before she could send it, another message came in.
Agent called and says he might have another audition for me. I know you won’t see this until morning, but I was so excited and wanted to tell someone.
Sophie’s heart cartwheeled—he wanted to share his good news with her. But in the time it took to blink, her heart placed both feet on the ground. Another audition meant he’d leave before summer ended, so what was the point of a romantic, moonlit walk along the beach? She dropped her thumb onto the delete key. After erasing her text, she turned off her phone and went back to bed.
Zebras don’t play with lions, she told herself sternly. And if they do, they get hurt.
Chapter Twelve
“That’s great, Lars.” Mont stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling in his studio apartment.
“Here’s the thing, Wayne. The director’s gonna wanna see you run. You didn’t quit running, did you?”
“You told me to stop,” Mont said, not really liking how Wayne sounded as his name. “And c
all me Jack. I’ve decided Wayne is too….”
“Western?” Lars provided.
“Sure, western,” Mont said. “And I ignored you. I’m still running.”
“You should never listen to what I say,” Lars said. “Apparently there are a few chase scenes in this film, and they want to make sure their hero looks good in the act of running.”
“That’s fine,” Mont said, determined not to get his hopes up. He’d done that before, and the crashes got worse every time. He listened as Lars continued to give him details about the audition—this one in the middle of September. Mont didn’t have any questions. Lars would send the photos as soon as he could, yada yada yada. Lars could talk circles around anyone.
Finally, Mont hung up and checked his texts. His bubble of elation deflated when he saw Sophie had not returned his messages.
Lars had called while Mont was working at The Sandy Tortilla, so he’d only gotten the voice message about the audition before he’d texted Sophie. He’d then called his agent, and he’d hoped Sophie would respond with a flirty, That’s great! Let’s go out and celebrate.
Too keyed up from the good news of another audition, Mont slipped into his shoes and headed outside. He left his phone behind, not wanting to be disturbed as he tried to release some of his nervous energy.
He obsessed over the auditions. He didn’t know how to be an action star. Heck, he didn’t even know how to be a comedy star. His films certainly hadn’t made the big time. Or even the medium time.
Determined not to think of the past five years as a failure, Mont labeled them as “learning experiences.”
Just like Amber. The thought came unbidden, but it was the first time he’d thought of Amber without wanting to stab out his own eyes. His thoughts shifted to Sophie. He hadn’t known why he’d been drawn across the taco stand to tuck back her hair. He only knew he’d done it. And the kiss afterward had been spontaneous as well. A good kind of spontaneous.
She hadn’t cracked him over the head with a spatula or warded him off with a knife. Mont could feel the desire radiating from her, and he thought it better to leave her wanting than to push too hard, too soon.
Until Summer Ends Page 9