Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  I felt a little guilty about the drinking. The last thing I wanted was to be known as the campground drunk. I turned onto the road that led to the village and vowed to cut back on the beer. Five o’clock was an acceptable cocktail hour—no more beer for breakfast. I leaned over, cranked up a song on the radio, and let the wind blow through my hair.

  I hadn’t returned to the general store since my first morning on the island. The grocery store had more produce, and despite all the beer, I did like to have fresh fruit. As I pulled into an open parking space in front of Davis, I noticed the docks behind the store for the first time. There was a wooden stand with Rentals written in blue. It looked like the store carried kayaks, canoes, snorkel sets, and fishing gear.

  I hopped on the boardwalk and strolled to the boat slips where the rental stand sat.

  As I walked closer, I overheard parts of a disagreement. I kept my hands in my pockets and hung back close to the corner of the store. Whoever was talking needed a minute to figure things out.

  “Der, you can’t be serious. You are quitting?”

  “Yeah, why is that so unbelievable? You think you know me so well. Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” He smirked.

  I recognized the clerk who had helped me with the beer. That guy had seemed a lot nicer in the store, and there was the girl who wrote notes on the register paper. I had forgotten how pretty she looked. Right now, she looked mad.

  “Don’t be such an ass. There is no reason to quit.” Her hands were on her hips.

  “I don’t want to work here anymore. I don’t want to see you at the store every day. I’m tired of covering for you, and I got another job.”

  “Another job?” Her voice was shrill. I watched as the guy walked from behind the counter, out onto the pier. I was starting to think this wasn’t the best time to rent a kayak. Maybe another day.

  “Yeah, Chelsea. Another job.”

  “Don’t leave like this,” she pleaded.

  “What’s this, son?” A deeper voice emerged in the discussion. “You’re leaving?” he asked.

  I peeked around the corner. The two store clerks had been joined by a man probably in his fifties. This was getting more awkward.

  “Mr. Davis, sorry for you to hear this way, but I’ve taken another position.” His voice might have cracked.

  The man glared at the pair. “Let me guess, this has something to do with Chelsea.”

  “Dad, that’s not fair. I had no idea he was leaving.”

  I watched as the man turned his back on the girl. “Derek, I’m sorry for whatever has happened. What can I do to keep you on?”

  “Mr. Davis, you’ve been really great to me over the years.”

  “That doesn’t sound like I have a chance to change your mind.” He sighed. “I hope we can come to an understanding, but if we can’t, I can count on you to work until I find a replacement?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, but this is my last day at the store. I start tomorrow.” There was an air of triumph in the announcement.

  “Der, what are you talking about? Where are you going?” she questioned.

  “I’m the new surfing instructor at Wave On.” He looked pleased with himself.

  “You know, Derek, why don’t you wait inside for me and I’ll be in to discuss your pay. I need to speak with Chelsea for a second.” The older guy urged the clerk to leave the conversation.

  Derek tossed a clipboard on the countertop and walked a few paces on the docks and into the store.

  The father turned. “Don’t stand there and tell me you’re not responsible for him leaving.”

  “Dad, this is complete news to me, but Derek has a right to change jobs if he wants to.”

  “Of course he does, but he has worked here for five years, and all of a sudden, he can’t stand it? How do you expect me to replace an employee like that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Any idea at all?”

  The tears were welling in her eyes. Even from fifteen feet away I could see them. I also saw her biting her bottom lip. She didn’t seem like the type that would cry, but I wasn’t sure I had ever heard anything like this before.

  “I can try to talk to him again. I’ll ask him to stay,” she offered.

  “No. I think you’ve done enough. In the meantime, you can take over his Thursday shift and—”

  “But, that’s my one day off,” she shrieked.

  “Maybe after this you’ll learn to respect the boundaries at work.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  I watched as she balled her fists on the counter. I didn’t know what was happening between them, but it was messy. I didn’t like the hurt that was on her face. She was being bullied, and I felt a protective instinct kick in. I wanted to help her.

  “You’ve left me without a clerk. It’s almost the end of June. Where am I going to find somebody now? All the students have jobs. No one is going to turn up at this point in the summer. Derek was the best employee I had. Five years, Chelsea. He was here five years.”

  “I’ll find someone. Calm down.” She pressed the ends of her palms into her cheekbones. I was impressed the tears didn’t fall.

  “You think it’s that easy? You think we can replace a worker like him? Fine. It’s your responsibility now. You find someone who is decent and you can have your Thursdays back.” I heard the deck boards creak as he walked back into the store, muttering something under his breath.

  The coast was clear. Maybe I could rent that kayak now. That was all I wanted—take one of those blue boats out on the water and glide across the surface. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped one foot around the corner.

  And right then, everything changed. I knew I wouldn’t be renting a kayak today.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Chelsea

  They were just like the lyrics, always popping up at the most inconvenient time. I brushed the tears off my cheeks and searched the rental stand for something to wipe my eyes. The only thing in my apron pocket was a scrap of paper.

  “Damn it, where’s a tissue when I need it?” I pushed the reservation book to the side. Everything looked blurry.

  When I walked into work this morning, I knew Derek was acting fidgety. He got that way when he was nervous. After five years at the store, I couldn’t believe he would quit because of me. Because of us. Sure, it was awkward and uncomfortable, but we would have to deal with it. Eventually enough time would pass that we could work together again—at least that’s what I convinced myself. He only needed time. Why couldn’t he see that we were better as friends?

  Then my father had to compound the problem. It took every ounce of strength I had not to call him out on the affair. I still wasn’t sure what kept it from flying out of my mouth. I wanted to hit him with it. I wanted him to know that I knew about Eileen and their relationship. However, even when the words were on the tip of my tongue, my throat clamped shut and they wouldn’t come out. If I released those words, it would somehow make the unthinkable a reality. Part of me wanted the affair to be a misunderstanding or a bad dream I couldn’t shake.

  I sighed, knowing that it was for the best I didn’t confront him. My mother couldn’t find out this way. For now, I would carry the burden of his betrayal a little longer.

  I heard footsteps and knew I needed to get it together. The corner of the apron would have to do.

  “Hi.” A customer stood in front of me. His voice was deep.

  I flattened the tear-stained apron against the tops of my thighs and pulled my shoulders back.

  “Hi. Can I help you?” I asked.

  Hopefully, he would rent a snorkel set and be out of here in two minutes. I needed a moment alone to regroup. Being blindsided by so much emotion at once left me feeling off-balance.

  “As a matter of fact, I was wondering if you have any job openings. I know it’s a long-shot, but I’m here for the summer and could use a little extra spending money.”

  I looked at the guy. He was vaguely familiar. I thought I remembered him fro
m a couple of weeks ago, but he didn’t have that beard and it was hard to remember all the customers who came through the store.

  “You heard all of that, didn’t you?” I asked.

  I didn’t believe him for a second. I hoped he had only caught the end of the disagreement between my dad and me.

  He adjusted his sunglasses to the top of his head. “All I heard is that you are in charge of hiring, and I am here to be hired.” He smiled, and I tried to figure out what the look was in his eyes. They were warm, soft, and a gray-green color that blended in with the water on the horizon.

  Yes, I definitely recognized that grin. He had been here before and forgotten a case of beer.

  “Do you have a name?” I asked.

  He had sandy brown hair that probably hadn’t seen a cut in a few weeks. He reminded me a little of Pearce Taylor on the Carolina football team. It was the height and the broad shoulders.

  “Jake. What about you?” He searched my apron for a name tag.

  “Chelsea. Chelsea Davis.” I pointed to the sign behind his head. “Part of the great Davis General Store dynasty.”

  “That seems like a pretty cool gig. You get to work out here all summer. Not a bad view.”

  I noticed his eyes were locked on me and not on the boats in the marina or the waves out in the ocean. It made my neck warm, and I wondered if the color had risen to my cheeks.

  “What are you doing here this summer, Jake with-no-last-name? Do you have any retail experience?” If he was truly interested in taking Derek’s position, the least I could do was vet him a little.

  He took his time with his words. Nothing about this guy said, “I’m in a hurry.” For someone not from the island, he seemed at ease on the docks.

  “I’m a writer. Spending the summer on Brees to—uh—write.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  My eyes shot to his. “Writer? You’re an actual writer? What do you write? Books? Are you a journalist?” I had a sudden shot of adrenaline. “Any chance you write music? Because I’m a songwriter.”

  I knew I was pelting him with questions with no space between to answer, but this was exciting. An actual writer. It didn’t matter if he wrote menus. At least he wrote.

  “I—uh—I’m working on a book.”

  I tried to picture the scruffy, athletic-looking man buried behind a laptop, or scribbling out words in a notebook.

  “I can’t believe this. A writer. But if you’re working on a book this summer, why do you want a job here?” I knew this might mean he wasn’t a successful writer.

  He shifted in his flip-flops. “Like I said, I need a little extra summer spending cash, and it sounded like you needed some help. I can fill in for a few weeks until you find someone more permanent. That way you can keep those Thursdays.”

  My stomach twisted. He might have heard the entire conversation. How mortifying.

  “What about your last name? Would I know any of your books?” How cool would it be if I had actually read something of his?

  I could tell he was searching the boat slips behind me, but I didn’t know for what.

  “It’s Grady. Jake Grady. And it’s my first book, so you wouldn’t have heard of me. I’m still an unknown.”

  That didn’t matter to me. I was an unknown too.

  “That’s ok. All writers have to start somewhere. So what’s it about?”

  “What’s what about?” He tilted his head.

  I dropped my hands from my hips. “Your book. What’s the story?” I asked.

  “Is this your standard job interview?” He cocked his eyebrow.

  “Right. Sorry.” It was official. I was blushing now. The word “writer” had derailed my initial line of questioning. I stopped for a second.

  “But you haven’t even asked what the pay is or the job. Don’t you want to know what the responsibilities are? Hours? That kind of thing?”

  “I’ll take it. Doesn’t matter,” he answered.

  “Doesn’t matter?”

  “I mean, yeah it matters, but it’s temporary.” He leaned on the counter with his elbows and winked. “Does this mean I got the job?”

  This was the first job interview I had ever conducted. I wasn’t sure this was the typical protocol for hiring, but I wasn’t going to second-guess myself. For some reason, a flirty writer with a shaggy beard, but undeniably cute smile had appeared out of nowhere—of course he got the job.

  “Yes, you’re hired.” I reached a hand toward him. “Welcome to Davis General Store.”

  “All right. What day do you need me to start?” He shook my hand.

  “Right now. Aprons are on the hooks in the employee hallway. Go grab one and meet me back here. I’ll give you the tour. We can start training this morning.”

  After a crappy morning, things had turned around rather quickly. The sickening pit that had formed in my stomach when Derek quit had been replaced by something that was hard to describe. It was like warm honey soothed my anxiousness every time he smiled.

  “Right now? As in you want me to start working today?” His eyebrows arched.

  “You do want the job, don’t you?” For someone who was persistent a minute ago, he was certainly backpedaling.

  “Yep. I’m on it. Going to get that apron right now.” He smiled, filling me with that soothing feeling again.

  I watched as he walked away, his shadow following his long frame on the pier. I bit my lip, wondering if hiring a total stranger off the docks was the best decision. Something about him felt undeniably right, like the song I had written last night—slow and easy. And with all the tension swirling in my life right now, there was nothing I needed more.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ben

  What in the hell had I just done? I saw her crying, her auburn hair floating around her, petite shoulders hunched as she fought the emotions. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to swoop in and make her smile like one of the girls in my movies. Fuck. I reached for the row of aprons on the hooks, as she had instructed, and slipped one over my head. This wouldn’t have to last long. I was sure she could find a clerk replacement in a few days. In the meantime, I would fill my time doing something constructive, and if I was being honest, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to spend that time around her.

  I pushed the screen door open and walked toward the rental booth. I spun around.

  “What do you think? It’s my first time in an apron.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “These aprons don’t look good on anyone. You can thank my father for that.”

  I looked at my chest and wondered for a second if I had laid off the workouts for too long. Was there actually a woman in the world immune to my charm? “All right, then. What’s next?”

  “Why don’t we start with something simple like the rental booth? We’re already out here.” She hung a lifejacket on a hook on the sidewall and clipped the straps together.

  Assessing the stand, I didn’t think renting out equipment would be too complicated. It had been a long time since I had bagged groceries at the local food market back home in Shiner, but I remembered the cadence of working in a store. This would be easy.

  “Ok. Train away. I’m all ears.” I nodded at a couple as they walked by, cameras dangling around their necks. I realized this might be the best way to blend in to island life—just be one of the locals.

  She cleared her throat. “The first thing we always do in the booth is open all the windows, turn on the fans, and when I’m working, I turn on the music.” She reached over toward the radio and hit the power button.

  “Nice. I think I like this even more.” I recognized one of the songs I had heard in the Jeep. “What’s this music called?”

  “You haven’t heard beach music before?”

  “Can’t say I have, but I like the words.” I always judged a song by the lyrics. If it didn’t mean anything, why even bother with the music?

  Chelsea’s mood seemed to have improved in the last hour. There wasn’t a trace of a tear on her cheeks.
I kept getting distracted by her blue eyes. Every time she smiled at me they sparked. It was enough to sidetrack any man.

  She giggled. “My parents and all their friends love it. So it’s kind of like oldies. I can see how you would hear that sound. I’ve grown up listening to it.”

  “So you like beach music and what else?” I thought of a few of my favorite country artists and wondered if she had ever heard them. The best were the ones who wrote music too.

  She fidgeted with her apron. “Me? Oh I like everything. Anything that has depth in the words.” She scrunched her nose. “You probably don’t want to get me started on words. I can talk for hours about lyrics.”

  It didn’t bother me if she wanted to talk about music. I wondered what words spoke to her. Right now, my favorite songs were about getting lost. She probably couldn’t relate. No one could.

  “Hey, do we get to take them out?” I eyed the row of boats next to the stand.

  “Not during our shifts, we don’t, but I guess it would be ok after work.”

  Maybe I could still work in some paddling today. “You know, I think it would help me get a better understanding of the business and the equipment if we took the boats out. You should take me.”

  She stopped fiddling with the lifejacket clips. “You want to go kayaking? With me?” She turned to face me.

  “Why not? You did say you’d give me on-the-job training.” I watched her think over the invitation. I was glad she wasn’t crying anymore—at least I had accomplished something important today. Her face was too pretty for tears.

  “True, but I’m not much of a kayaker. And—”

  “Stop trying to come up with excuses and just take me out. Ok?”

  I grinned wider than I intended. I might be actually trying to get a reaction from her, and that was something I never did. Women naturally reacted when I was around. Not this one. She was different, and I liked that about her.