“Do you want me to be your lookout?”
“Yes!”
He helps me to my feet, and I’m quite grateful. If I exert too much pressure on my abdomen, I’m going to wet my pants. I follow him toward a huge boulder away from the bonfire. I slap the sand off my pants if for no other reason than to keep me from freaking out about what I’m about to do. If I weren’t with a policeman, I’m sure I would get arrested for indecent exposure.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.”
He stops and motions for me to keep going around to the other side of the boulder.
I make a swirly motion with my finger. “Turn around.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. Urinating is a natural act.”
“It’s not natural for me to pee outside, so if you don’t mind, I need my privacy.”
He groans but turns around, anyway. “Why don’t I... never mind. Would you like me to sing while you go? To drown out the noise?”
I poke my head around again. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”
It takes a few minutes because I have a shy bladder, but finally, the sweet release of urine begins. Ahh. Gunnar whistles “Whistle While You Work” with his back to me. After I drip dry and zip up, I come around the boulder, still tucking in my T-shirt.
And right at that moment, Liza and Jake walk up. Liza grins. “My, my. Y’all don’t waste any time.”
I grab her arm. “No, it’s not what you think.”
She points at Gunnar. “It’s about time you figured out how to do it.”
Gunnar hangs his head low. I bop him on the arm. He takes me by the hand and tugs me away from Liza. We walk on the beach, near the waterline, away from the crowd, until it becomes quiet. In fact, we’ve walked so far, I think we’re in front of a private residence. I hope we’re not trespassing. Fortunately, I’m with the law.
Heat rises up my neck. “People in this town are so quick to judge. Isn’t there a Bible verse about that?”
“She’s only funnin’.”
“I don’t like people assuming things about me.”
He stops walking and drops my hand. “Assuming you and I are attracted to one another is a terrible thing, right?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I groan. “People need to stop pushing.”
Gunnar throws his hands up in defense. “Maybe I like your company. Is that so terrible? Because if it is, all you have to do is say the word.”
My heart sinks. I’m all alone with a handsome guy on a hot summer night, and I’m saying stupid things to chase him away. Something is terribly wrong with me. I blow out a breath so I have time to think of something decent to say.
“I’m not used to people in my business. That’s all. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” I drag my toe through the sand to form a heart shape. “And for the record, I like your company too.”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “Maybe you should blog about it.”
I bust out a belly laugh. “I might have to do that.”
He sits on the sand near the water’s edge and pulls me down next to him. I barely hear the music from where we sit. My knee bumps his as I get comfy in the sand. He rests his arm behind me so he’s leaning in to me. His warm breath tickles my ear.
I wink at him. “You like me for my money, don’t you?”
“Yep. I’m that shallow.”
I laugh and nudge him with my shoulder.
“I’m not impressed with a lot of money. It changes people.”
“I don’t think I’ve changed.”
“Not yet.”
I’m sure since Willow is an attorney, she has lots of money. Maybe from experience, he knows what money can do to people. I scoot my knees up and rest my chin on them. My toes wiggle through the cool, wet sand. “I have had a few daydreams about my life now that I don’t have to worry about finances anymore.”
He points at me. “That would be nice, I guess. To be able to take care of your family.”
If I had a family. I dig my feet deeper into the sand. “I hate to admit this, but it’s real pretty out here.”
He stares off toward the other people. In the distance, someone starts a volleyball game. “It’s my favorite place. I come here to clear my head.”
“I can see why. I guess chasing bad guys all day can wear even someone as big and tough as you out.”
He pins me in place with a cold stare. “That and when your fiancée dumps you at your wedding rehearsal.”
Tears pool in my eyes. He mentioned the ex-girlfriend, and Regina and Mel haven’t been shy about their disdain for her, but I never imagined this happening to him. Any girl that leaves this man at the altar is seriously disturbed.
“Oh, Gunnar. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He’s probably so jaded now, a girl would have to be near perfect to pass his test. I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to go down that road again.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. I guess I assumed you knew. It’s old news, but every now and then, I’ll see something that brings back bad memories, and I head here to...”
“To clear your head?”
“Yeah. I bet you think we don’t have problems down here, don’t you?”
“I was hoping so. What’s the attraction, then?”
He rotates so the light of the moon shines on his face, making him even more godlike. “So you’re considering staying?”
I goose him in the ribs. “I didn’t say that. I was talking about you.”
He blows out a breath. “I like it here. I almost drowned in the big city.”
My hand finds his, and he squeezes it, making my insides flip-flop. “I bet you’d be okay if you gave it another chance. There’s a lot to offer in a big city.”
He lies down on the sand, and I collapse beside him. We stare at the stars, still holding hands. There he goes again, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. If he can make my stomach turn to jelly with a single touch, I’m not sure if I can handle his hands doing anything else.
“I’m content.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I don’t know the definition of the word.”
He laughs as he threads his fingers through mine. “Always looking for greener grass?”
He focuses again on the stars. I wish I had paid attention in science class because I would love to know what constellation is above us.
“I don’t know about that. I guess I’ve always been too afraid to plant seeds to see if anything could grow.”
He lets go of my hand and rolls onto his side to face me then props his head up with his hand. “The grass really will die if you spend more time worrying about it dying than you do making it thrive.”
I roll over to face him. “What if I’m a lousy gardener, Mr. Philosopher? What if I put in the effort and it wasn’t supposed to grow in the first place?”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It’s called faith. You have to trust that you’re doing your best and make the most of the results.”
I reach out to touch his face. I have to know what that five o’clock shadow feels like. Oh dear, I shouldn’t have done that. Now I’ll never want to remove my hand from his warm, stubbly chin.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Don’t you want more out of life?” I ask.
His eyes flutter open, and I wonder if this is what he looks like when he first wakes up in the morning, because if it is, I could get used to it. “Of course, but I can achieve it without changing my geography. It’s not where you are; it’s who you’re with that matters.”
I turn over onto my back and stare at the stars again because his face is way too distracting. “I wish I could be more like you.”
He holds up a thumb. “You want to almost lose your thumbs?”
I giggle.
He leans in to me, and I can feel my heart about to beat out of my chest. “No. To enjoy each day, each moment.”
He leans closer, putting one arm on either side of me. Holy mother of God. Please put me out of my mis
ery and kiss me because my ovaries are about to explode. I’m only talking about a simple kiss. It’s not as if we have to get married. But this is the South, so maybe we do. Okay by me.
“I do enjoy each day. I’m enjoying right now. A lot.”
His eyes flick to my mouth and back to my eyes. I slide my hands up his chest, and he moans. He lowers his face at the same time that damn dog pays us a visit and gives us both sloppy kisses. We bump foreheads in a rush to get away from him.
“Ow,” Gunnar yells. “Dammit, Griff. Get your own sexy—”
“If you call me a bitch, you’re going to get smacked.”
He rubs his nose, and I rub mine, then he helps me to a standing position and laughs. “I would never say that about you.”
“I guess Griff can’t hold his licker, either.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Get it?”
He groans. “That was so bad.” He stares at my lips and sighs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get to kiss you.”
I tug him by the collar and plant a fast smooch on his lips. “There. That’s better, right?” Not for me, it isn’t. Holy crap. Those lips are even softer than I imagined.
He grimaces. “Not at all. It’s like going to Six Flags and not riding The Scream Machine. I am not happy riding the kiddie mine train.”
I throw out my hands. “I’m here, ready to ride whatever ride you’re talking about.” I know I shouldn’t encourage him since I’m leaving soon, but I want this.
He throws his head back with laughter as he pulls me in close, snaking one arm around my waist. The other hand holds the back of my head. It’s about damn time. His soft lips barely touch mine, when his phone buzzes, causing him to let out a pitiful whimper into my mouth.
“It’s a conspiracy.”
Gunnar frowns as he reads the text message. “I have to go. Chris Finley is sick, and I’ve been called in to work.”
“If I ever meet this Chris dude...”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, tucks me in to his side, and plants a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t worry. I’ll give him a stern talking-to myself.”
He takes my hand, and we walk back to the others. With his other hand, he adjusts his board shorts. Oh my God. I think I’m going to die if I don’t get another taste of him soon—one that’s longer than a millisecond.
He waves to me as he hustles up to his car and zooms away. When I have the nerve to peek over at Liza, she winks. I guess her mission has been accomplished.
This is way better than getting drunk. Way better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Andie
Hovering over the shop’s stove, I sneer at my latest disaster, while Mrs. Cavanaugh washes dishes. Every day this week after the morning rush, I tried one recipe after another, and they all resulted in either a “yuck,” or a gag, or a quick trip to the bathroom by Mrs. Cavanaugh. Today, I try a new tactic, but Granny’s picture perched on the counter beside the stove isn’t giving me any guidance. I’m hoping if I stare at it long enough, her wisdom will seep into my brain and saucepan. I’m not getting it.
Mrs. Cavanaugh hasn’t been much help in the jam department, but she’s invaluable with everything else. She pretty much runs the place. My main job responsibilities include making bank deposits, cleaning tables, and especially making Piggly Wiggly runs with a grocery list of whatever she needs for the day. My first “pig run” took me two hours because, well, it’s the South and even a trip to the grocery store is a social event. As long as I get whatever Mrs. Cavanaugh needs, including the exact brand she wants, she’s as sweet as sugar.
She doesn’t ask for much, and I know Granny paid her a fraction of what she’s worth. No matter what happens with the money, I’m going to make sure Mrs. Cavanaugh is well taken care of.
After inspecting Granny’s handwritten accounting sheets, it’s apparent that she hasn’t made a profit in years. She barely made enough to pay for Mrs. Cavanaugh’s salary, which is pitiful. No wonder the place hasn’t been updated since the eighties. But I doubt raising the prices on her baked goods would have made a dent in her bottom line. Fortunately, she owned the building, or she wouldn’t have been able to afford a place to live.
I watch over Mrs. Cavanaugh’s shoulder as she cracks eggs then dumps the egg whites in one bowl and the yolks in another, all with one hand. She has decided to try yet another pastry recipe on the Jackson sisters. She says they think it’s a treat to taste something new, when the truth is she figures no one would miss the Jacksons if they got food poisoning. I love this woman more and more every day.
The Jacksons arrive every day as if they are clocking in to a job, but they don’t speak to me. Today, when I tried to compliment Sarah Jackson on her new purse, she peered around me and announced to Mrs. Cavanaugh what her order would be today. With my newfound Southern charm, I made sure they knew to let me know if they needed anything else. Other than the cold shoulder, I have been off their radar as far as their blog is concerned. I haven’t seen any new photos of me posted lately, but like an addict, I have to pull it up every night to see if they wrote anything else about me. Thankfully, they have moved on to some other poor schmuck and how the person shouldn’t wear leggings since she’s sixty. I say if she still has the body to pull it off, then she should go for it. I think the Jacksons are jealous, because to see either of them in a pair of leggings would be quite scary.
Inhaling the aroma of the ingredients takes me back to a time when I visited Granny. She had a knack for pastries, and I would stand on a step stool, begging for one, which of course, she would oblige. I couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, but the memory is seared into my brain like the burned jam is on the pot I threw away. Granny pulled out every ingredient she had and asked me to decide what we were going to make. We, or more like I, decided on chocolate princess crown muffins, which was nothing more than chocolate muffins with chocolate chips inside, topped with fluffy chocolate homemade icing and an entire bottle of sprinkles.
Mom was so mad at her for letting me have so much sugar at seven in the morning, but my grandmother shooed her off, saying she needed to let me be a kid. I loved the muffins, and I’m pretty sure Granny did too. We giggled the entire time we cleaned up the cocoa powder from every surface in her kitchen. To this day, when I see chocolate muffins, I get a tingly sensation in my cheeks from all the sugar in the princess chocolate muffins. If only Mom hadn’t lied to me, I might have had lots of memories like that one.
I inhale another one of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s masterpieces. “No matter what you make, it smells so heavenly.”
“That’s experience you smell.” She takes my hand and places the whisk in it then covers my small hand with her larger, more wrinkled one. “This is how you whip. Better than an electric mixer. It’s all in the whisk.”
“And the wrist.”
She laughs. “That too.”
“You’ve been so nice to me, but why won’t you help me with the jam? I only have one more week.”
She adds sugar to the egg whites and proceeds to beat them into a fluffy meringue. “You got to win that ribbon on your own. The jackass sisters will notice if I help.”
I belt out a laugh. Yep. She’s definitely one I want in my corner. “You don’t want them near Granny’s money, do you?”
She shakes her head so much, I’m afraid it’s going to come off. I’m going to miss this lady when I leave. She’s the best part of my day.
The chimes over the door ring, and Mel walks in. Only half of her hair remains in her braid, and sweat stains cover her scrubs top.
“Afternoon, Melly,” Mrs. Cavanaugh says.
Mel collapses onto a barstool and moans. “It has been a day from Hades today.”
Regina barrels through the door. Her scrubs top is so big, she could wear it as a dress. She plops down on the stool next to Mel, lays her head on the counter, and whimpers.
“Bad day?” I’m not sure I want to know, but after a week in this town, the Southern hospitality has already take
n over.
Mel wipes her face with her hands. “A compound femur fracture, a motorcycle accident, and Mrs. Betty fell and broke her hip. Bless her heart.” She points at Regina. “And she got puked on by a kid.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh and I back away.
Regina’s head rises off the counter. “Hence the reason for the hospital-issue scrubs so big I could make a sail out of them.”
I slide Regina a glass of sweet tea. “Hey, at least I was nice enough to aim with my hurl, right?”
She lets out an exhausted chuckle.
“Anything else?” Mrs. Cavanaugh always knows when there are more words left unsaid.
I pour Mel a glass of tea, and she gulps it down.
“Ah, that hits the spot,” Mel says. “I had to see him all day today. He brought in every single case. He gets all doe-eyed when he sees me. It drives me crazy.”
“Who?”
“Mitchell,” Mrs. Cavanaugh answers as Regina giggles. That gets her rewarded with a nudge in the side by Mel. “He’s set his cap for her a long, long time ago.”
Mel groans. “And he doesn’t take a hint. At. All.”
The Mitchell I met at the moon-bathing party was really cute in a reserved, shy kind of way. But I’m new here, so I don’t know the whole backstory. I glance over at Regina, and she rolls her eyes. I must ask her for more details later. There I go again, getting all nosy. I’m fitting in too much lately.
Mel stretches her arms over her head. “I try to be friendly because he’s an EMT. I have to interact with him. He brings patients in, and I treat them. We have to talk, but he hangs on my every word.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at Mrs. Cavanaugh. “Kind of sweet.”
“It is sweet,” Regina says as she does her best to tuck the XXL scrubs top into her pants.
Mel gives Regina a death stare before she answers me. “Ugh. You don’t know the history. I made a promise when I was ten that one day when my mama let me date, I’d go out with him. He hasn’t forgotten that.”
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