Ridge reaches into his pocket and returns holding a small silver key. “Take this in case you don’t get your coffeemaker hooked up. You can use mine. Everything is in the cupboard above it.”
“You’re giving me a key to your house?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs like the key exchange is no big deal. “I left my truck in your driveway last night. I’m getting a ride to the airport this morning, so I’ll keep it parked there until I get back.”
He didn’t? I lean across the kitchen sink to check out the window. He did. “Ridge! People are already going to talk. This will make it worse.” The whole phone tree will think we slept together.
“The town will talk regardless. This just makes it worth their while.” He tugs a belt loop on my jeans and I allow him to pull me closer. “Besides it’s safer. That way if someone drives by, they won’t think you’re here alone.”
“That’s why you did it, huh?” My forehead furrows in disbelief.
As expected it doesn’t faze Ridge at all. “Take the key.” He places the cool metal in my hand. “But remember it’s for you. Not Katy. Don’t let the madwoman in my house.”
I give him a quick three finger salute with my best serious face.
“Yeah, we’ll work on that salute when I get back.” He places a quick kiss on my forehead in the same spot as before. It’s my new favorite place on my head and sends shivers through my body. “I’d kiss you better, but then I’m afraid I’d never leave and I have a plane to catch.”
Ridge walks backward out the kitchen door, and I never take my eyes off him. How is it I know very little about this man but already feel a connection to him? And it definitely isn’t only my lust talking. I mean sure it started out as lust, and it’s still mostly lust, but there’s more in the way of real feelings every day. I think. It’s hard to decode my feelings when he distracts me with the muscled stomach.
**
Four hours after Ridge left it’s apparent I need to get a job or buy a TV. I painted a coat of the bright yellow on the kitchen walls and then sat and watched it dry.
Literally.
Let me tell you it’s as boring as all the “watching paint dry” jokes make it sound. I opened a window to let the fumes dissipate and the semi-warm breeze whipping around the room coaxed me outside five minutes ago.
The sun shines on all of Gertie’s tulips and I start the short walk to Main Street wrapped up in a thick sweatshirt. It’s cool, low sixties, but warmer than average. Spring has come to the coast early. Thank the weather gods for that.
The streets are quiet, but I’m sure it won’t last long the closer time moves toward lunch. In the closed store on the intersection of Main and Second Street, a pile of large white sacks are piled up haphazardly blocking the sidewalk.
A tall brunette woman drags a white bag in through the open front door — a bakery coming soon sign propped up beside the wall. One moment she’s struggling with the heavy bag — Papas Flour written in red on the front — and the next her head disappears behind the door, her hands flailing above her. I dash for the opening at the sound of her small scream.
“Are you okay?” I pant, stepping over the bag of flour.
“Flippin’ dingle gingers.” She looks up at me, blowing a piece of hair from her eyes. “Are you on the phone tree? How long before everyone hears about this?” she asks taking my offered hand to pull herself up.
“You’re safe. I have no phone tree privileges. They’re probably too busy discussing my fake sex life to notice anything today, anyway.”
“Oh good. I mean sorry about your luck, but thanks for taking one for the team.” She laughs and reaches for her bag of flour. “Pearl’s tried to set me up with every single guy in town. I’m pretty sure Mr. Shaw is married. He had a ring on when she pulled him from his car and introduced us yesterday.”
“New in town?”
She sighs, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Yes, is it obvious?”
“We stick out like sore thumbs. I’m Tabitha.”
“Anessa or Nessa. Never Nessy. I’m not a sea monster. Even if my family doesn’t agree.”
She shakes my outstretched hand. “I totally understand.” I like her already. “Is this your place?” I check out the open store, my eyes falling on all the bare walls.
“Yeah. Isn’t it great?”
The tile floor is covered in white powder, either flour from the huge bags she’s dragging into the corner or saw dust. But that’s the least of the problems. There are no tables or chairs in the room. The windows are covered in grime and the walls are a putrid shade of pea green.
“Um, yeah it’s… great.”
She stands next to me as we both survey the bakery… well one day it will be a bakery. I hope.
“Okay, it’s not much now, but throw in bright chairs. A reading area over here.” She points to a corner in front of the window overlooking Main Street. “Some paintings, a throw pillow.”
“Oh yes. I see it now — the throw pillows will really turn it around.”
Thankfully she laughs at my joke. “Maybe a lot of throw pillows.”
“Do you need any help?”
“You’re not busy?”
I am in no hurry to run over to the hardware store and call Mario, so no. “Nothing all afternoon.”
She turns and grabs another bag of flour from the sidewalk tugging it inside the store slowly. I grab a similar one and pull. The top slips from my fingers and falls to the ground, a small cloud of the white debris puffing up from the ground. “How damn heavy are these bags?”
“Fifty freaking pounds.”
“Hey, if you need help painting, I have recent experience.”
She stops pulling her bag. “You don’t like the green? I painted it last week.”
“Oh….”
She laughs. “I’m kidding. It was this horrible color when I leased the place. It must go.”
“Oh, thank god.” I release the worried breath I’d been holding.
“I have a nice shade of pink in the back.”
“I have a friend who could help when she gets out of work.” Katy might not love me volunteering her services, but she’ll love Anessa too. Plus, us new people have to stick together.
CHAPTER NINE
After days of nonstop cleaning and painting, the place looks nice. Not my place — I haven’t painted another drop at my house — but the bakery shines. The floor’s swept, the walls are a Pepto-Bismol pink that Anessa assured both Katy and me will look great in a bakery.
“Riley, don’t be like that. I don’t want to steal your dad’s nail gun. We just want to borrow it.” Katy walks in from outside, her phone pressed to an ear. Another resident of Pelican Bay who apparently knows how to get service in this town.
“Who is she talking to?” Anessa asks.
I shrug. The decision was made to hang up wainscoting on the bottom section of the bakery wall. When Anessa went to find her hammer and nails, Katy jumped up with an excited declaration. She had a better idea. We’re both just rolling with it.
As expected, Anessa is an awesome chick. Between her and Katy, I have the friends I didn’t know I needed, but I’ve always wanted. It happened fast, but we’ve bonded the last three days. Being half high on paint fumes the entire time may have helped. I haven’t laughed so much in well… ever.
“Of course I know how to use it.” Katy stops in front of Anessa. “Okay fine, I don’t, but Anessa does.”
Anessa’s eyes widen, and she waves her hands signaling she in fact doesn’t know how to use a nail gun. On her own little cross country adventure, Anessa moved here from a small town on the West coast. She’s been in Pelican Bay a month finishing up the bakery she leased from none other than Pierce Kensington.
“Your dad won’t even miss it. Fine, but call me as soon as you can. Thanks.” Katy sticks her phone on the counter with a huff. “Riley doesn’t think he can get the nail gun until later tonight. He’s become a wuss. No sense of adventure anymore.”
; “Wainscoting is an adventure?” I ask with sarcasm.
Katy doesn’t notice. “Everything is an adventure if you approach it right.”
“Well, thanks for giving up your entire day for the adventure of bakery prep.” Anessa hands Katy the hammer and a box of nails.
“Riley is in so much trouble.” Katy takes the hammer but looks at it like it carries the plague.
“Hello, ladies.” Pearl knocks on the open front door, stepping over the bag of flour we’d used as a prop.
Katy quickly hands the hammer and nails back to Anessa and makes a beeline over to Pearl, greeting her like a long lost best friend. “Pearl. It’s so good to see you today.”
Pearl and her various tie-dyed outfits visit us every day. The single good part about Ridge being out of town since Wednesday is that Pearl’s had little to no gossip to share about any of us. Yet even with the reduced drama and morning coffee provided by Anessa, I still can’t stop thinking about Ridge and what he’s doing at any given time.
“This place looks wonderful, ladies.” Pearl takes a seat on one of the white stools placed in the middle of the room. Her grey hair is pulled back and tied into a braid that loops over one shoulder. “I remember when this place used to be a soda fountain shop.”
“Yeah?” Katy asks taking a seat next to her on another stool. “It’s always been Tom’s since I can remember.”
“Oh, this place has been lots of things over the years. Sandwich shop, a granola restaurant in the 90s, a doughnut bakery once long ago. I’m glad it’s going back to offer sugar products again.” Anessa brings Pearl a cup of coffee from the pot we keep warm all day. Between the constant coffee and paint fumes, I’ll probably need to see a doctor after this place opens. “When is Ridge getting back?” Pearl asks after her first sip. She waited longer than when she asked yesterday.
“I’m not sure. He said he’d call.”
“Well the ladies auxiliary are rooting for you.” Pearl, while possibly one of the town’s biggest gossips, is the sweetest woman. She’s too sweet and friendly for you to dislike. Yesterday she brought us homemade brownies. She’s the grandma I wish I had at home.
“Rooting for me?”
“Oh yes, you know what with Ridge’s past issues.” She takes a slow sip of coffee well aware I’m waiting for her to finish the story. “Mary’s cousin’s sister-in-law, Missy, said he dumped one of her best friends during a dinner one night. Paid the bill but then left her all the way in Whitecap alone. She had to call for a ride back into the West side.”
“Well at least he paid the bill,” I garble together a response.
“You’re such a sweet girl, Tabitha. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” She reaches out and pats me on the knee from my stool. “Ridge needs to live a little. Embrace life and enjoy the feel of the sea on his face. The military made him too rigid. He’s always off on this job or that, acting like he’s still a G.I. Joe.”
Katy puts two fingers to her lips mimicking her belief Pearl’s been smoking the happy grass — the term we coined yesterday when Pearl lectured us on the importance of Maine legalizing marijuana.
“Let me give you advice. No matter how hot you find him, don’t put up with his shit. When I met Roland, he had a buzz cut. A real straight laced lower, even in the seventies. Look at that man now.” I try to picture Roland with a buzz cut and a button down shirt, but he’s forever etched in my mind the way I first met him. Long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail, a tie-dyed outfit to match Pearl’s. “His parents sent him to four years of military school. One night in the backseat of his car with me and he forgot that lifestyle.”
“Pearl,” Anessa gasps.
“What?” Pearl nods her off. “I’m just saying Tabitha can be good for Ridge. The man obviously needs more sex and none of that missionary stuff. Men these days want to take it out of the bedroom. Roland and I like to take a romp around the beach on occasion. It helps to keep it interesting.”
I choke, bending over on my stool so I don’t outright laugh. Katy’s not as concerned. With her head thrown back mid-chuckle, she falls off her stool and then uses it to support herself. My first meeting with Pearl and Roland on the beach takes on a new mental picture. Surely it’d been too cold for those kinds of activities, right?
**
Katy’s phone rings as we’re waving good-bye to Pearl.
“I can’t believe she told you to have sex on the beach,” Anessa says her hand still waving frantically back and forth as Pearl heads out of view.
My smile stretches wider in case she looks back and through her super lady powers figures out we’re talking about her. “I can’t believe she and Roland are having sex on the beach. Be careful where you drop your towel this summer.”
A paper cup flies between Anessa and me, hitting the window and bouncing off to land on the floor. I turn around, my forehead furrowed, as Katy jumps up and down, waving her hand and pointing at the phone pressed to her ear.
“Of course we’ve been good. I’m a reliable friend to keep around, Ridge.” Katy’s eyes bulge out with the mention of his name. “She’s right here. Just a minute.”
I take the phone from her hesitantly. Why is he calling Katy? Does everyone in this town have the phone number for everyone else? “Hello.”
“Remind me we need to get you a cell phone.” Ridge starts mid-conversation.
“Um, okay.”
“Do you have plans tonight?”
I turn back to admire my two new friends in time to see Katy making kissing faces at me. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Good. How about you, me, at Coastal Catch tonight at seven?”
“Coastal Catch?” I question.
Katy squeals at my words and does two small jumps clapping her hands together. Coastal Catch must be the hot place in Pelican Bay.
“I’ll pick you up. We’ll celebrate.” Someone yells on the other end of the phone and Ridge sighs. “Got to go. I’ll see you then.”
He hangs up without a word of what we’re celebrating, but I don’t have time to worry about it. As soon as it’s obvious I’m off the phone, Katy rips it from my hands, a jump in every step.
“Coastal Catch is a good thing?” I ask.
“You have no idea. Coastal Catch is the nicest restaurant in town. It’s on the water. The tables face out toward the sea for whale watching. Tabitha, they don’t list prices on their menus. You need something fancy to wear.” She finally takes a breath. “We need to visit the mall.”
It’s possible Katy’s overwhelmed by the news. The mall in this town will not help me. “Katy, we’ve been to the mall. There’s five stores, and none of them sell clothes.” At least clothes I won’t be wearing.
“Right.” She pops a hand under her chin deep in thought. “Someone needs to tell Pierce to fix that.”
“I have stuff upstairs,” Nessa volunteers.
I stifle a groan behind my closed fist. Looks like I’ll be wearing pink tonight. Anessa lives in the small one-bedroom apartment above the bakery, part of her lease agreement. She also loves the color pink. Like a lot. It isn’t only on the walls down here in the bakery, but splattered over her closet and bedroom. Shoes, jackets, rugs, kitchen utensils. It’s all pink. Who would have guessed?
Anessa and Katy head back into the kitchen where you access the small stairwell to get upstairs without having to go outside, but I linger. I should hightail my butt over to the hardware store and call Mario like I told Ridge I would. But I haven’t seen Benny.
CHAPTER TEN
Katy made me try on fifteen million different outfits, but a short three hours later I’m ready to open the door for Ridge by seven. The cute little tea length dress with pink roses will freeze my legs off, but considering it makes my boobs perkier than they were in high school, it’s worth the risk.
By six thirty when there’s been no sign of Ridge, I pace between the living room and kitchen. I quickly peek outside to check his truck is still there, in case I’d gone deaf and missed hearing it dri
ve itself away. The black Ford hasn’t moved.
Six fifty-eight rolls around and there’s a knock. I count to ten and with practiced fake calm walk to the door with tiny steps. I can’t seem like I’ve been waiting for him.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?” Even in the dim light of the front porch, the dark colored bruise on Ridge’s right cheek draws my attention.
He walks inside with a small grin plastered on his face, but something isn’t quite right. “A scratch.”
A light blue long sleeve button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows highlights his thick forearms. His black slacks squeeze his ass as I stare at his butt while he walks to my couch. The pieces of him are there. Handsome face, strong jaw, tight stomach, big arms. But his movements are slow and stiff. He settles down on my couch and groans. But not the good kind.
“What happened?” I ask, taking a seat next to him on the couch.
“I had a minor disagreement with a fist.”
My hands run up and down his arms searching for any other bruises he’s tried to cover. “With your client?”
“A guy I talked to for the client.”
He tucks his right hand between his leg and the couch cushion so I grab for it. The skin around his knuckles is raw and scraped away in rough patches. “Do you often talk so much with your fists?”
“When dealing with an asshole who deserves it? Yes.” He makes no bones about his current situation. Definitely not apologetic.
I don’t have experience in the security business, but evidence suggests Ridge is out doing more than installing a few alarm systems. Pearl was right, I traded a Ken doll for a G.I. Joe.
“And this asshole? He deserved it?”
Ridge brings his non-injured hand up and cradles my face, his deep blue eyes intent on mine while he punctuates every word. “This one did.”
His blue eyes shine, staring deeply into my own. I close the distance between us, pulling on him, his shirt bunched between my fists.
The kiss deepens, Ridge’s tongue runs against my lips and I open. My hands roam over the defined muscles through his thick shirt. He moves me until I’m straddling him, my knees sinking into the couch cushions around us. One of the spaghetti straps from the dress falls down my shoulder, but rather than push it up, Ridge tugs until it reaches my elbow. His hands fall to my knees and slide up my thighs. I tense silently wishing for more when he breezes past my underwear, a thin thong for tonight’s special occasion. If we count each time he’s brought me coffee in the morning, we’ve been on a lot of dates. Anything that goes on here tonight is way beyond the three date minimum.
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