Seaside Sweets

by Melissa Chambers

  “Mmm,” he grunted, trying not to smell her. She probably smelled like Chase. That should turn him off. He took a whiff, but all he smelled was a clean scent, which didn’t help matters. He stood. “If you don’t need anything else, I guess I’ll…” He pointed toward the door.

  “No, of course not,” she said. “I don’t need—” she took a sharp inhale of breath, sort of like someone who had been crying and was trying to catch their breath, “anything else. I’m,” she did it again, and he wondered now if it was a hiccup, “all set.” She did it a third time, and now he knew it was the hiccups.

  She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows, looking as if she was trying so hard to keep it together, but when the next hiccup came, she hit the table and shouted, “Damn it!” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this much of a total mess. This night has just been exponentially shitty.”

  He didn’t have it in him to keep this wall up any longer. He pulled her into his chest and held her tightly, rubbing her back with one hand and holding her neck with the other. “It’s all gonna be fine.” He had no idea what “it all” was, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.

  She hiccupped into his shoulder, letting him hold her to him, surrendering to whatever was taking her down at this moment. There was no way he was walking out of there right then. He pulled away from her, holding her shoulders. “Would you like to talk about anything?”

  She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “No, thanks.”

  He grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. “Sorry, I know this sort of thing is a huge turn-on for guys. Please try to contain yourself.”

  She was clearly trying to make a joke, but she had no idea how true her words were. He opened up Chase’s refrigerator and pulled out a couple of beers. “Do you like IPA?”

  She gave the beer a longing look. “I can’t drink my client’s beer. It’s unprofessional.” A smile crept across her face, and she busted out in a laugh. He joined in and pulled her to him again. “It’s not that bad. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

  She pulled away. “Thank God.” She surveyed the beer and then eyed Blake. “Do you think he’s got anything stronger than this? I think I need an immediate buzz.”

  Blake looked around, trying to figure out where the liquor might be.

  She cleared her throat, and when he met her gaze, she pointed at a cabinet. He found Chase’s stash. “What’s your drink?”

  “Tequila,” she whispered. “I swear I’ll buy him a replacement bottle tomorrow.”

  Seanna got down shot glasses while Blake retrieved the bottle. “Do you want salt or a lime?” he asked.

  She wiggled her fingers. “Just bring on the liquor…please.”

  He hadn’t planned on drinking with her, but he didn’t feel right walking away from her right now. She needed someone, and he was there. It wasn’t like he could tell her to call Bo and walk away. That would just add to her already shitty evening. Where was Bo, anyway? He should have been the one she called. Had he still not asked her out?

  They clinked glasses and downed the liquor. She set her glass down. “Hit me again.” He did, and they went for round two. She closed her eyes and collapsed into a kitchen chair.

  He looked at her side-eyed. “This is about more than a kitchen full of water, isn’t it?”

  She gauged him, and then twirled her shot glass with the tips of her fingers. “I’m not gonna drag you down with me again. You’ve done your time.”

  “Is this about your ex?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I talked to him earlier. I hadn’t in weeks, and I knew I needed to…mainly to make sure he was actively looking for another place to live. My worst nightmare is that I’m going to get there in December to move out, and he’s going to be laid up on the couch not having moved a thing.” She held up a hand. “Not my worst nightmare, but you get it.”

  Blake narrowed his gaze. “Suppose that’s the case. He’s laid up in his underwear eating potato chips with dirty socks and nudie magazines all over the floor.”

  Her eyes widened. “You know him so well.”

  He smiled. “So what happens next? You give notice to the leasing agent that you’re not coming back, we move all your stuff out and leave him in there, and then they have to get the cops to make him leave. You may lose your deposit, but you probably weren’t expecting to get that back anyway, were you?” She gazed at him, curiously. “What?” he asked.

  “You said we.”

  He blinked, playing back his words in his head. We move your stuff out. He didn’t know why he said that. In his head, he just imagined himself helping her with this. But he would be in Kansas in December.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Of course, I’d love to help, but I’ll be…”

  “In Kansas. Yes, I know.” She gave him a tired smile. “Thank you. I know there would be little more thrilling for you than to get to meet my deadbeat ex and load up a moving truck.” She patted his forearm. “You’ve done quite enough just being here tonight.” She nodded at the tequila bottle. “Hit me one more time, baby. Is that how she sang it?” She gave him a lazy but mischievous smile, her hand around the shot glass.

  “This liquor is doing you right tonight, isn’t it?”

  She held up her glass, resting her elbow on the table. “It’s doing me just fine,” she said, and then downed the third shot. She stood up, a little wobbly. “Whoops,” she said, getting her balance. “I think I have my second wind.” She pulled two beers out of the fridge, popped both tops off with her bare hands, and then handed him one. “What do you think about that wall? Does it need another coat of primer?” He turned to look at it, but when he turned back around, she was already out of the room. He followed her into the living room where he found her at Chase’s stereo. “What is Chase, eighty-five? I’ve been looking at this old-school stereo equipment for the past two weeks. It looks like something out of an eighties breakdancing movie. Does he not know technology has gotten smaller through the decades?”

  “Oh, but you haven’t heard this thing. It’s like walking into Club La Vela.”

  She tossed her hand into the air and then covered her mouth with it, eyebrows raised. She waved a wobbly finger at him. “You’ve been to Club La Vela?”

  He looked her up and down. “Why’s that so funny?”

  “Because you’re a hundred and eight. Club La Vela is for twenty-one-year-olds.”

  He raised an eyebrow and spoke very slowly. “I’m only a hundred and seven.”

  She grinned at him. “Old man. Trying to rub up on jailbait.” She looked him up and down. “You’re disgusting.”

  “When were you in there? Aren’t you turning thirty in a couple of days?”

  She peered at him, and he knew he was busted. “How did you know that?”

  Sebastian was going to kill him if he ruined the surprise. He’d been on his case all week about RSVPing to the party on Friday. There was no need for Blake to go to that. He didn’t need people asking him about when he was leaving and, moreover, why he was leaving. But the night was about her and not about him, so he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do yet.

  “You told me.” She’d mentioned that night on the beach that she was turning thirty, she just hadn’t said exactly when, he didn’t think.

  “When?” she asked.

  “That first night I met you.”

  She squinted at him. “On the beach?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was not the first time we met.”

  “I know,” he said.

  A grin infiltrated her face. “I thought you were Cassidy’s boy toy that first day I met you. I was all like, ‘Damn, Cassidy. You’re doing yourself right.’ Then she was all like, ‘He’s just my friend. I’m way too old for him.’ Mmm hmm. Right.”

  Seanna usually seemed to say whatever was on her mind, but he got the feeling that he was getting a special show of her uncensored this eveni
ng.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just friends with your aunt.”

  She leaned in toward the stereo punching buttons, seemingly at random. “You’re telling me you don’t think she’s attractive?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She pointed at him. “See! I knew it.” She put her attention back on the stereo.

  “I’m not the one who’s got it for her.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Three shots of tequila should not loosen his lips like this. What proof was that bottle he’d pulled from Chase’s stash?

  She turned to him wild-eyed. “Who? Who’s got it for Cassidy?” He shrugged, taking a drink of his beer. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, holding the beer bottle against his arm. “Who’s got it for Cassidy? Is it Chase?” He shrugged again, giving a noncommittal shake of his head. She pointed at him, one eye squinted. “Who? Tell me.”

  “Why don’t you ask her? She knows.”

  She did a snap point thing. “It’s Bo, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “That’s awesome! Oh, my God. She should totally hit that. He’s hot.”

  Blake could feel his lip curling up. “He’s not that hot.”

  “Says the straight guy. Here, let’s call up Sebastian and see what he says.” She patted down her shorts and then swatted her hand in the air when she came up empty.

  Blake cleared his throat. “Speaking of Bo, have you seen him this week?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Me?”

  “Yeah, over here or whatever.”

  “No. I’d remember if I’d seen him.”

  Blake knew he’d asked Bo to take her out, but now that he was sensing she’d love nothing more, he was second-guessing himself…like he hadn’t been for the past week and a half.

  He needed to figure out an exit strategy, but he wasn’t sure he needed to be driving at the moment and he still wouldn’t feel right walking out on her now. He could call Bo. Tell him what happened and that they started drinking…wanted him to join in the fun. Then when he arrived, Blake could take his exit and leave Bo there to make sure Seanna got home or at least to Chase’s guest room.

  But the idea of setting the two of them up together in an empty house made his chest sizzle with jealousy. Not that Bo would try to have sex with her…not like this. He was way too good a guy. But at the least, they might kiss. Or worse…snuggle.

  He hit a couple of buttons on Chase’s stereo, and the first few notes of Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” came through the speakers. Chase was such an old soul. Leave it to him to have his stereo stocked with classic rock.

  She fisted a wad of her T-shirt and turned to Blake, eyes wide. “Oh, I love this song. My family would listen to music on Saturday nights when I was little, and my mom and dad would dance to this, and he’d sing it to her.” She sang the first verse, spinning around the room and sort of doing the airplane or something. There she went, making him smile again. “Oh, he was such a bad singer, too. Kind of like me.” She kept dancing, sort of high-stepping like she was walking through a cow pasture. She may have been a worse dancer than he was. The chorus came on, and she started singing it while looking directly at him. She took his hand, pulling him out to the middle of the room, still high-stepping. He set his beer down on the coffee table and just went with it.

  She finished the chorus by winding herself into his chest, and then sort of dipping herself backward into his arms, making him feel like he’d won the lottery. She unwound herself from him and started in on the second verse. He remembered Chase had a karaoke machine in his massive stereo setup, and he found the wireless mic and handed it to her. Her eyes and smile widened, and she was on stage now, arms shooting up in the air with the long, high notes and head banging to the beat during the guitar riffs.

  When the song was over, she ran to the stereo. “Is this that one CD of theirs? I want to hear the last song.” She found the remote and skipped through to the final song. She closed her eyes and waited, and as soon as the first licks of “Let Me Take You Home Tonight” came on, a smile crossed her face that sent goose bumps popping up all over his arms.

  She sang the first couple of lines with her eyes closed, and then opened them just in time to sing a line to him that made his legs turn to jelly. She’d sounded horrific on the other song, but on this one, her voice took on a sweet, soft tone that wasn’t bad.

  For the chorus, she pulled him back to the dance floor they’d created and eased her hands onto his shoulders, his making their way to her hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. They swayed together there, her singing sweetly, eyes closing and then opening just enough to catch a glimpse of him and smile.

  If he could freeze any moment of his entire life to relive over and over, it’d be this one.

  She lay her head on his shoulder, and they finished off the song, wordlessly, her arms snaked around him, grasping his shoulders from behind. Even through the part where the song sped up, they still stayed just like they were, swaying like it was a power ballad. The CD finished, silence sitting between them, and he cursed Boston for writing such a short song.

  She pulled away from him, wiping her hair back out of her face. “Sorry, I got caught up…thinking about my mom and dad.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Now was the time to leave…walk out the door. He should ask her if she needed anything else, and go. It was that simple.

  Her expression turned grave. “I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive of me.”

  He blinked, not sure what she meant.

  “I wish you had memories of a family to share with me. I’m sorry you don’t.”

  She was sorry that he didn’t have a family. That was the first time in his life someone had apologized for his being an orphan. He wasn’t sure what response he needed to have.

  She narrowed her gaze. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure,” he said, a little uneasy.

  “I hate this work.”

  He exhaled relief. “Plumbing?”

  “Yeah, no more plumbing for sure. But I don’t want to rebuild kitchens or bathrooms or redesign houses or anything like that. In fact,” she leaned in, “I’m secretly hoping Chase won’t pick me to remodel that house.” She put a finger to her lips. “Shh.” Her expression changed. “I hope you don’t think all this was some sort of self-sabotage. You don’t think that, do you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I really hope you don’t think that.”

  “What do you want to be doing?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Is that not stupid? I’m thirty in a matter of days, and I don’t know what I want to do with my life.”

  “You don’t have to know yet. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

  “I loved what I did at my old job, managing things from the office level, generating business, going on sales calls, convincing people that our firm was the way to go. I think I’m good at that, you know? Working with people. Sales, I guess. Does that make me prissy…the fact that I don’t like getting my hands dirty?”

  He huffed a laugh. “On a night that left you soaking wet, I don’t think that’s an unreasonable way to feel.”

  She walked over to the stereo and flipped through a handful of CD’s. She held up one. “Oh, my gosh. FRAMPTON COMES ALIVE. You are kidding me, Chase. My parents had half of these.” She held one up. “Oh, this one is actually really good. Do you like The Who?”

  He scratched his head. “Yeah. I like that Led Zeppelin one even better.”

  She showed it to him and then held it to her chest. “You could put ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’ on repeat for the rest of the night, and I would be just fine.”

  That was one of his favorite Zeppelin songs. Figured. “Me, too,” he said, working to regain his footing and not doing a very good job of it. With everything she said and did, he was falling deeper for her, which was not in his plan. He cleared his throat. “I’m starting
to wonder who’s the old curmudgeon, you or Chase.”

  She put the CD in the stereo and waited for the music to start, her eyes closed. The first few bars of “The Song Remains the Same” came on, and she closed her eyes. “God, why haven’t I listened to this music in so long?” She turned it down a little where the volume was just slightly higher than background music. “I haven’t listened to any music in so long.” She took her beer off the mantel and plopped down on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her.

  He wanted to join her, but he was supposed to be walking out the front door. “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t made the time, I guess. I listened to a podcast on my drive down here from Nashville…not that I was really listening to it. I guess my mind isn’t satisfied unless it’s stressing out over something.”

  “You’ve had a lot to be stressed over.” He got his beer from the coffee table, intent on taking it to the sink and pouring it out…leaving. “Do you want me to forward it to your song?”

  “Oh, no. Fast-forwarding is a cheat. You have to work a little to get to what you want. Let the desire build so the payoff is even better.” She glanced at him, her gaze telling a story, and then closed her eyes. She rested her head against the wall behind her, stretching out her neck. He could so easily walk over to her and trail kisses all over it, and down farther…

  He woke himself up. “I’m gonna head out…if you don’t need anything else.”

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “You’re gonna miss out.” Oh, he had no doubt about that. She nodded, indicating the stereo. “Our song’s up after this one.”

  He stepped forward with every intention of walking to the kitchen, but somehow found himself on the couch with her. He settled in on the opposite side, beer in hand.

  They sat in silence without the chatter of small talk, just listening to the song and breathing. She repositioned her body to face him, knees falling against the back of the couch. He wouldn’t look at her, but he could feel her gaze on him causing his chest to warm, contributing further to the heady buzz he had going from the liquor.