Prickles of ice raced down Spence’s back. There it was, the moment his anonymity vanished with the clip of a few words. He felt the people waiting in line behind him perk up. He should have ordered take-out.
“Not out here, I’m not,” he smiled as kindly as he could manage.
A split-second of confusion on the cashier’s face was quickly replaced by understanding and a nod. “Gotcha. You wanna wait right over there and Kendra will have your roll up in a jiffy.”
“Thanks.” Spence nodded in appreciation.
He waited to the side until a cute, wide-eyed teenager, who had to have been the cashier’s daughter, brought him his lunch. Her lips twitched as she stared at him, and Spence could practically hear “Can I have your autograph?” zipping through her head. He smiled at her as if he was just another tourist, took his things, and returned to Tasha’s table.
Tasha continued to read her book, lobster roll finished, as if it were another ordinary day at the Clam Hut.
“Is the guy behind the register Pete?” he asked, taking his lunch off the tray and arranging it in front of him.
Tasha checked over the top of her e-reader. “Yep,” she said after a pause. “He’s actually Pete junior. Pete senior was still running the place when I was a kid.”
“Nice.” He smiled and took a bite of his lobster roll. The tang of mayo and lemon combined with the satisfying crunch of fresh lobster filled his mouth. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing.”
“One of the best parts about Maine.” Tasha smiled. That smile was better than the lobster, and he wanted more.
“What else should I try?” he asked, mouth half full.
Tasha hesitated for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure he was talking to her. Then she put down her e-reader. Spence mentally fist-pumped.
“Have you ever been to Maine before, and do you want to do touristy things or what the locals do?” she asked as if conducting an interview.
“I’ve been to Portland once, but not for long enough to enjoy it, and I suppose I’d like to do a little bit of both.”
“Oh my gosh, is that Spencer Ellis?” a woman murmured to her friend at the next table.
Spence met Tasha’s eyes. She darted a worried glance to the women, then raised an eyebrow at him. He replied with the barest of shrugs, and took another bite of his lobster roll.
“I think it’s just someone who looks like him,” the other women at the next table told her friend. “He is cute, though.”
Tasha leaned across the table and whispered. “Do you get that a lot?”
“Recognized?” he asked. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I want to be recognized.”
She sat back, but kept her voice lowered. “How can you not be recognized if you don’t want to?”
“By not looking famous,” he answered. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning around his straw as he took a gulp of root beer. They were having a conversation. It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was better than the silence of the last few days and twice as nice as half the conversations he’d had in the last year.
“You can’t just not look famous if you are,” Tasha went on. “You’re obviously you. Everyone knows your face.”
He shrugged and reached for a fry. “Lots of people look like other people. And if there’s one thing that celebrity’s taught me, it’s that people will question themselves if they see you out of context.”
“Out of context?”
“Stuffing your face with fries at Pete’s Clam Hut with a cute teacher.” He winked.
She crushed his expectations by shrinking away, face pink, and standing.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be intruding. I’ll leave you to your lunch.”
Just like that, he didn’t exist again. She piled her empty lobster roll container and soda cup onto her tray and walked them to the trash can. What had he done wrong? It wasn’t something he said, was it?
When Tasha returned to the table to gather her things, slipping her e-reader into its case and that into the purse slung over her shoulder, Spence inhaled the rest of his roll. He still had half his fries and his drink in front of him when she finished and started walking off, but sacrifices had to be made. He shoved his trash onto his tray, rushed it over to the receptacle and tossed everything but the drink, then jogged after Tasha.
“Something wrong?” he asked her.
“No. What? Why?” She fiddled with her purse, picking up her pace.
He slipped on his sunglasses as they crossed over the small bridge spanning the river that divided one half of the town from the other. A few of the window-shoppers that they passed along the row of souvenir shops did a double-take as he passed.
“Do I make you nervous? I’m not trying to, I swear. If it bothers you that people recognize me….” If it did, there was nothing he could do about it.
She stopped just shy of the entrance to a shop displaying lobster t-shirts and kitschy postcards, pivoting to face him.
“It’s…it’s not that, not really.” She peeked around and lowered her voice to a whisper, “But you’re movie star and I’m just a teacher. It’s a little weird, don’t you think?”
“Why would it be weird?” They continued walking down the row of shops. “Besides, I’m not a movie star here.”
“No?” she asked. A bare hint of a smile touched her lips.
His heart skipped a beat, and he dodged around an older couple walking in the opposite direction. “Of course not. I’m just a guy from Oregon, on vacation and trying to be friendly. That’s all.”
She didn’t say anything, but her smile grew. As they rounded the corner, she slowed her pace. A few steps later, she stopped entirely and let out a breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just a little edgy about new people right now. Especially guys.”
Another story he wanted to hear but knew better than to press her for.
“Understandable.” He nodded.
An awkward silence fell.
Don’t be a dweeb, Tasha scolded herself. He’s only trying to be nice. True enough, but picking out the nice guys from the not-so nice variety wasn’t exactly easy these days. She’d read enough celebrity gossip to know how thin that sort of ice was, but it dawned on her that she wasn’t being fair. And now Spence was just standing there, waiting for her to say something.
“This is Grant’s Five and Dime,” she said, gesturing with her thumb to the store beside them. “It’s been here longer than any of the big chain drug stores you find popping up all over the place. They sell the same sort of stuff, though. There’s an old fashioned candy counter at the back that we used to drool over as kids.”
Shut up, you moron! What are you, on the Summerbury Chamber of Commerce?
Spence didn’t laugh or sneer, though. He smiled. Damn, he was good at smiling.
“I love places like that,” he said. “I feel better about shopping in those kinds of stores than in the big chains.” Before she could apologize for sounding stupid, he went on with, “Where else did you guys used to hang out when you were kids?”
Tasha blinked. Did he really want to know?
“All over the place,” she answered. “Remember, we used to rent bikes and cover a lot of territory.”
He took a long sip of his soda, then nodded across the street to a small building on the corner. “Bikes. Like that place?”
Tasha turned to follow his nod. A bicycle rental shop had been set up in the building on the corner. She remembered it as being a tackle store, but now a row of identical, old bikes with small numbered tags on the backs of the seats stood out front.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Only we used to get our bikes from the hotel.”
“Wanna go for a ride?”
The grin that spread across his face was downright impish. It was exactly the kind of look her brother used to give them all when he was about to get them into some sort of trouble—trouble that would be worth every bit of punishment. That memory
and Spence’s grin tugged at exactly the part of her she’d come to Summerbury to find. Let go, she told herself, though she heard it in Jenny’s voice. Have fun. Just because he’s famous doesn’t mean he bites.
“Sure, why not?” she answered. She could risk a bike ride with Spencer Ellis, movie star.
“Nice. Let’s go.”
They crossed the side street and popped inside of the rental office. Tasha wasn’t immune to the curious tourists squinting at Spence, trying to figure out if he was who they thought he was. The odd part was that they were giving her the same looks, trying to figure out if she was famous too. It was weird, but she decided to take a page out of Spence’s book and pretend that she was nobody. After all, she was nobody. Pathetic, stupid nobody. Life had a way of reminding her of that.
“Tasha, look.” Spence tapped her shoulder as they stepped out of the rental office with the teenage boy who unlocked the bikes. She twisted to see where he was pointing. “Tandem bikes.”
Sure enough, three tandem bicycles rested against the far end of the patio.
“Let’s get one of those,” Spence said.
Two kinds of butterflies swirled in Tasha’s gut at once—the kind that sensed a romantic scene about to unfold, and the kind that envisioned a collision and wipe-out of massive proportions brought on by a complete lack of coordination.
She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” He nudged her forward, past the nice, ordinary bicycles to the tandems. “I’ve always wanted to ride a bicycle built for two.”
“I can give you one of those if you want,” the boy with the keys said. “You can pay the difference when you get back.”
“Let’s go for it,” Spence said.
The eagerness in his eyes was downright charming. Tasha gritted her teeth. She did not need to foul up her summer more than it already had been by letting a celebrity charm her.
Still, she’d never tried a tandem bike. Brad had thought they were lame, and her brother had craved speed over novelty.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “But I get to be in front. I want to steer.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Spence agreed.
He finished his drink and tossed his cup as the teen freed one of the tandem bikes for them. Climbing on wasn’t all that different from climbing on a regular bike, with the exception of someone else’s weight keeping it from swaying the way Tasha expected it too as she mounted. She made sure her purse was secure over her shoulder and said, “Ready? One, two, three, go.”
Far more smoothly than she expected, the bike rolled into motion. She settled her feet on the pedals and was pleasantly surprised at how easily they moved.
“Let me know if you want me to go faster or slower,” Spence said behind her.
“Not too fast,” she said, turning onto the main road that led out of town and down toward the beach. “Not until I get the feel for it, at least.”
Summerbury proper was about a mile inland from Summerbury Beach along a tidal river. The town with all its shops and restaurants represented the heart of things, but as they made their way along the sandy bicycle trail that ran parallel to the road, past old houses that had been in families for generations and weathered storms and winters, Tasha felt as though they crossed into the soul of her childhood. Tall pines swayed in the breeze that, even a mile inland, still had the tang of salt in it. Manicured gardens, rich with color, sat next to patches of wild.
“That’s the Beatty’s house,” she told Spence as they passed a tidy Cape Cod set back from the road across a pristine lawn. “Their daughter, Julia, used to babysit us when out parents wanted to go down to Boston for the day.”
“Nice house,” Spence said behind her.
“And up here on the right is the Franklin’s. Mrs. Franklin used to keep bees in the back. Her honey was always one of the best parts of the summer. It was somehow better than any other honey.” She could feel its thick sweetness now, reminding her of what happy tasted like.
“I think I see a hive in the back. She must still keep bees,” Spence said.
“Or maybe one of her kids. She was old even back then.”
They rode on, and maybe it was he tandem bike, but it seemed easier to pedal than when she was a kid, even though she hadn’t been on a bike for years. Why hadn’t she? She’d always enjoyed biking. At least she used to. There hadn’t been time for it in recent years, and Brad hadn’t been interested.
She frowned and concentrated on Summerbury.
“We’re about to reach the pier,” she told Spence. “It’s the beginning of the beach on the north side, the river side. There’s a small marina down here too, for private yachts, but they also have a couple of whale-watching boats that take people out.”
“That would be fun. We should do that sometime this summer.”
His words sent a quick thrill through her that switched just as quickly to something restless. He couldn’t really mean “we,” could he? This was her vacation and his vacation. No “we.”
“That’s Brad’s house,” she said, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice as they rode past a stately brown-shingled house near where the road turned from the base of the marina to run along the beach. “Well, Brad’s family’s house. He doesn’t come out here anymore. At least not that I know of.”
There was a slight pause, then Spence said, “I take it Brad was an old boyfriend?”
One simple question, and her teeth were set on edge.
“Yes,” she answered, jaw tight. If by “old” you meant as of two months ago and dumped for a red-head.
She gripped the handlebars tighter and would have shook her head if she wasn’t trying to balance on a bike.
“Let’s stop for some ice cream at that place right there at the end of the pier.” Spence cut through the mounting tension of Brad.
Yes. Ice cream was definitely a good idea right about now.
“Okay,” she answered and steered toward the pier where the bike path forked.
It was a challenge to slow the tandem bike to a stop and to get off with two people who had different ideas about how it should be done. Spence started getting off to the right and Tasha to the left, wobbling the bike precariously between them. In the end, she did a quick switch and hopped off on his side. Spence was nice enough to wheel the bike to the long rack at the side of the ice cream shop at the beginning of the pier.
“Will the bike be okay here?” he asked as Tasha walked away, toward the front of the square shack of the ice cream shop. “People don’t take stuff like that at the beach?”
“Not the rental bikes,” Tasha answered. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was keeping up as she charged on. Spence had a sunbaked glow and his short, dark hair had been tousled during their ride. She felt her temperature rise, whether she wanted it to or not.
“I don’t think the usual variety of bike thieves is interested in clunky, old rental tandems,” she answered.
They stood shoulder to shoulder at the back of the small line for ice cream, studying the hand-painted menu to the side of the service window. It was a pointless exercise for Tasha. She would get chocolate. She always got chocolate. Did that make her boring? Maybe she should branch out and try the blueberry. This was Maine, after all. But she liked chocolate. Why was she even worrying about it? No one was going to judge her for what ice cream flavor she ordered.
“So this Brad guy,” Spence said as they stepped closer to the window. “You met him here when you were a kid?”
The first summer they’d ever come. He was the cool boy with money who could get ice cream whenever he wanted. She’d liked him right away, her first crush.
She answered, “Yes,” hoping to end Spence’s line of questioning right there and save herself from reliving bittersweet memories.
“I’m just trying to get a sense of the timeline,” he told her.
“Good for you.”
He wasn’t deterred by her burst of harshness. “Ho
w long did you two date?”
She couldn’t do this. Not even for a celebrity. Not even for a gorgeous, smiling celebrity who seemed like he could be so easy to talk to if she could just unclench. It was a mistake to go out for a ride with him.
“Thirteen years.” She lost her battle to keep to herself.
His eyebrows popped up over his sunglasses. “Thirteen years? You dated for thirteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Dated? Without getting married?”
Heat flooded her, and not the kind that came from thinking a celebrity was cute. All of the anger and regret and shame over how blind she’d been turned her face beet red. He would think she was a fool. Everyone thought she as a fool. Thirteen years, gone.
She peeked down the curve of the beach. Sand Dollar Point was just visible around the edge of a souvenir stand. She could walk home and let Spencer Ellis return the damn tandem bike on his own.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice softer than it had been. “It’s really none of my business. I wouldn’t have asked if I had known it was so….”
She forced herself to face him. “It’s no big deal.”
He shifted his weight and swallowed. “I shouldn’t pry.”
“No.”
Well, she’d loused that up. Next thing, she’d be crying again.
“What’ll it be, folks?” the attendant at the ice cream counter came to her rescue. She could have kissed the woman.
“Chocolate,” Tasha snapped, a little too brusque. She put on a smile and went on with, “On a sugar cone, please. Just one scoop.”
“One chocolate it is,” the attendant said, “and you?” She turned to Spencer. Her eyes narrowed, then widened as she stood straighter.
“I’ll have the same,” he said.
“Two chocolate cones.” The attendant’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “That’ll be five dollars.”
“I’ll pay for mine,” Tasha said.
It was enough to snap the woman behind the counter out of her thoughts as she stared at Spence. She hopped to grab a couple of sugar cones from the box behind her, shaking her head.
“I can pay. It’s no big deal,” Spence said, a little too reminiscent of Brad.
Summer with a Star (Second Chances Book 1) Page 4