Startled, I look away from Linus’s retreating back. Zeke’s dark hair is wet like he just showered. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt that shows off the tattoos that twine around his biceps, and the top buttons are undone, revealing a sliver of tanned chest.
My mouth goes dry, but I give him a smile and hope he won’t notice how lost I am over him. He returns my smile with an easy one of his own—one I can’t help but notice is just as practiced as mine.
Only when he offers me one of the cups in his hand do I realize that he has two coffees. “For me?” I ask, surprised.
Zeke leans against my table, the picture of confidence. He knows he’s gorgeous. “Just a little something for your first day.”
I take a sip, not sure what to expect and hoping it’s not black, and am pleasantly surprised by a mildly sweet latte. “It’s good. Thanks.”
Needing something to do with my hands, I tip the small baskets on their sides, as Lauren told me to, and begin loading the tarts in them so they look like they’re spilling out. In front of each, I place the little fragrance cards that Lauren made, careful to match each with the correct scent.
Zeke picks up a cucumber melon tart and sniffs it. He gives me an approving look, and then he shuffles through the rest. “No soap?”
“It takes a while to cure,” I say, knowing this only thanks to Linus. “But I’m hoping to have some next week.”
“Cool. Hey, I gotta run.” Zeke motions to his booth with his coffee. “I’ll catch up with you after the festival?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to sound all cool and unruffled when, on the inside, my stomach is somersaulting.
Moon-eyed, I go back to my project. I have to admit the table looks nice when I’m finished, though it’s a little too artistic for me. Personally, I’d just stack them up in piles, but this is more visually pleasing. It pays to have Lauren as a best friend.
My first customer is a sixty-something woman with a massive straw hat. She’s wearing cutoff overalls and a floral shirt that you could find in the dark. She browses through everything, sniffs all the samples, and then smiles at me. “Do you have any gardenia?”
Gardenia? That’s a flower, isn’t it?
“Um…all I have is what’s here.”
She nods and then reads my sign. “Three-fifty for each or eight dollars for three?”
“That’s right.” The discount was Lauren’s idea too. She said I’d sell more if I offered a quantity incentive.
The woman hands me her choices. “If I buy these five, will I still get the discount for the extra two?”
“Sure.”
“How much do I owe you? Oh, you know what…I’ll buy a couple of these, too.”
Since I’m nervous, my brain has decided not to work. Divide eight by three, multiply it by six…no seven. Wait, how many is she buying? Why didn’t I make the discount price divisible by three?
Feeling like an idiot, I bring up the calculator app on my phone. It doesn’t help that Linus has wandered back over, and he’s looking over my table.
The stupid calculator keeps multiplying numbers as I try to clear out the screen, and I’m growing more than a little flustered. Ready to heave the stupid thing across the park, I glance up at Linus.
“Eighteen dollars and sixty-six cents,” he mouths.
I give him a quizzical look, but he nods, reassuring me he’s positive he’s right.
“That will be eighteen dollars and sixty-six cents,” I tell the woman.
She pays me, I give her the change, and then she meanders off to the next booth, leaving me alone with Linus.
“How did you do that?” I demand the moments she’s gone. “It only took you a few seconds.”
Linus smiles. “I’m kind of a math nerd.”
“You said that about science.”
He shrugs.
I narrow my eyes, trying to figure him out. He’s dressed in cargo shorts, hiking sandals, and a plain blue T-shirt today. He’s pretty tan, actually. And his legs are well-muscled like maybe, at some point, he played a sport. Or he’s just active.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Nineteen.”
“What are you doing in summer school?” I finally ask.
First, he looks confused, and then his face lights with an amused grin. “Do you have a problem with summer school?”
“No,” I say immediately, so he doesn’t think I’m super judgy. “I was just…you know. Curious.”
If he’s this good at math and science, maybe he’s bad in English. I know my dad always says he was good at math but hated language arts. But still, Linus is nineteen, a little too old to be held back. Since it might be a sore subject, I let the question drop.
“So…how old are you?” He crosses his arms.
Uncomfortable, I shift behind my booth. “Eighteen.”
“Did you just graduate?”
“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” I rearrange the fragrance cards, sniffing each sample tart to make sure I have them in the right places.
“You want me to show you how to calculate the discount for next time?” He nods toward my phone.
Irritated, I pull the phone onto my lap. “I know how. I just, I don’t know, panicked under pressure or something.”
“You don’t look like the type to panic over anything.” He shifts, and a slightly crooked smile graces his face.
Wait.
Was that flirting?
I eye him. “Not usually.”
Another woman walks up, this one about my mother’s age, and Linus steps to the side. He, too, scans the fragrances available. After sniffing the cinnamon spice one, he shoves his hand in his pocket, digging out an easy three-fifty from his pocket. “I’ll take this one.”
Trying not to ignore my other customer, I tap the calculator and tease, “Should I check your math?”
Smiling, he leans all the way across the table until his jaw hovers over my shoulder and his lips are close to my ear. “Should I ask if you made these yourself?”
Unable to help myself, I grin and shoo him away. Laughing under his breath, he slides the tart into one of his cargo pockets, pats the woman on the shoulder, greeting her, and once again disappears.
“That Linus is a nice boy,” the woman says.
I angle toward her. “You know him?”
“Sure.” She picks up a blueberry cobbler tart. “I had him in my third-grade class.”
Glancing at Zeke, I ask, “What about him?”
She looks behind her and laughs. “Zeke? Yes, I had him too. Charming troublemaker, that one.”
He’s showing a painting to a woman in her late-twenties, and even though she’s several years older than he is, she’s under his spell. He smiles like a cat who found the way into the canary cage when she hands him her credit card.
“Trouble, huh?” I ask.
My customer looks up, giving me a disapproving look. “Yes, hon. Trouble with a capital T.”
I look again at Zeke, and this time, he looks back. I give him a feline smile, which he returns with gusto.
She’s right—he has trouble written all over him.
Lucky for me, trouble sounds like fun.
CHAPTER FIVE
Like a well-paid bellboy, Linus shows up when the festival ends in the afternoon, at exactly three-o-one, ready to help me lug my stuff to my car.
Eying Zeke from across the park, I say to Linus, “I think I’ve got it.”
Zeke did say he would see me after the festival, after all. And he was supposed to help me set up…
Just as I say the words, Zeke turns, smiles when he sees Linus has volunteered his services, and gives me a carefree wave goodbye before he begins the arduous process of packing up his own stuff while he chats with the girl at the booth next to him.
What the heck?
“Looks like I’m all you got.” Linus raises an eyebrow, and he purses his lips as he works hard to hide a smile. He leans a tiny bit closer, friendly as ever. “I guess you’re stuck
with me.”
Though I’m a little irritated with the handsome artist who’s currently flirting it up with the pretty brunette painter, I give Linus an easy smile. Zeke glances over again, just as I’d hoped he would, and I trail my hand along Linus’s arm and purr, “You say that like it’s some kind of hardship.”
Yes, I know. I know.
Linus gives me a knowing smile—the kind that tells me he sees right through me. “Are you really trying to use me to make Zeke jealous?”
I put on an affronted expression, but before I can deny it, Linus takes two steps closer—entirely too close for a friendly after-festival conversation—and twirls a strand of hair that escaped my braided updo earlier in the day. “What do you think?” he says, his voice husky. “More convincing?”
He takes me so completely by surprise; I suck in a startled breath. Linus smells like aftershave—not the old-man stuff, but a bright and clean sports-type fragrance. Raising an eyebrow, he waits for me to answer.
Light hazel. That’s what color his eyes are, and it’s also why I had so much trouble telling before. They’re a little blue, a little green. There might even be a few amber flecks in there. They’re pretty.
Just as the surprise is diminishing and I’m about to say something witty, a hand settles on my shoulder.
“Ready for me to carry your stuff to your car, Riley?” Zeke asks.
Startled, I take an abrupt step away from Linus. I’m going to be honest; I’m a little irritated I had to work this hard to get Zeke over here. “I think Linus was going to help me out.”
Zeke turns, eying Linus. “What’s up, Bradford?”
Linus nods, and they exchange quick, but not overly exuberant, greetings.
I give Zeke a bright smile. “I’ll see you later?”
The artist’s eye twitches, and he glances again at Linus, suspicious. He crosses his arms, and, so help me, my fingers itch to trace the tattoos that travel up his biceps. But I keep my hands to myself, where they belong.
Reading me, playing it cool, Zeke gives me a slow smile and leans in real close. “You can plan on that.”
As he leaves, he trails his hand across the small of my back, and I try to hide a shiver that follows the path his fingers took.
After Zeke’s out of earshot, Linus asks, “What, exactly, was the purpose behind all of that? I thought you were trying to get him over here.”
“And blow you off just because he tried to stake a claim?” I begin to transfer my wax tarts into my storage tote. “I’m not that awful.” I glance up, meeting his eyes. “And I’m not a fire hydrant he can pee on to mark his territory. If he wants my attention, he can help me out next week like he promised he would this morning.”
Linus laughs out loud, taking me by surprise. It’s a warm laugh, full and rich. “Let’s get this stuff to your car and then grab something to eat.”
I freeze with my hand halfway between tote and table. Then, realizing I’ve gone still, I quickly continue to pack up, hoping Linus didn’t notice.
With that infuriating smile of his, he adds in a calm, completely amicable tone, “Not like a date.”
Again, he’s stumped me. I could have sworn he was flirting earlier, but now he’s as cool as a cucumber. In fact, he sounds like he has no romantic interest in me whatsoever.
Which is good. Great. A little unsettling, I will admit. First Harrison, now Linus. But it’s fine. It’s not like I’m interested in him.
And I’m not developing a complex or anything.
“Sure,” I say after a few long moments. “I’m starving.”
***
“How’s your foot?” Linus asks.
We’re at a touristy burger shop that’s not far from the park where the festival is held. It’s crowded with couples of all ages and families, and we were forced to take a tiny table in the corner of the patio area.
I’m starving. The harried waitress keeps forgetting about us, but, luckily, it’s too loud out here to hear my stomach’s angry rumbles.
I take the last sip of soda from my glass and then stab the ice that sits lonely at the bottom. “Better.”
The angry pain has dulled to a weak throb, so I don’t think I broke anything.
“How’d you do today?” he asks, speaking of the festival.
“Well, my friend Lauren did really well.” I sit back in my chair. “Since she made all the tarts.”
Linus’s eyes gleam like he just knew it couldn’t have been me. I should probably take offense to that, but what’s the point?
“Are you going to attempt soap again?”
“I’m going to make another batch on Monday.” I tilt my head to the side. “Using a scale this time.”
“Probably a good idea.” Linus chuckles and looks down at his menu, though, by now, after all this time, he should know what he wants. We’ve been sitting here for at least fifteen minutes.
“I’m not a crafty kind of girl,” I admit, wondering what his reaction will be.
He doesn’t look all that shocked, to tell you the truth. Feigning surprise, he says, “Really?”
I ball up my napkin and toss it across the table, aiming for his chest and making him laugh. “I’ve never had the patience for it.”
“So why the sudden interest?” he asks, but I can tell he already knows the answer. Then, when I give him a look, he says, “Doing all this for a guy? Isn’t that a little cliché?”
Defensive, I take another stab at my ice. “Not just for a guy. I’m going to be here all summer. I needed something to keep me busy.”
“What are you doing in town, anyway?”
I shrug. “My aunt lives here.”
He rests his arms on the table. “Sure, but I’ve never seen you around before. It’s not like you usually spend summers here.”
“That you’ve noticed.”
Linus raises an eyebrow, giving me a look that says he would have noticed me. Like a house cat begging for attention, I want to ask him exactly what he means by that. But that would be needy, and, despite my recent run of bad luck in the guy department, I am most certainly not a needy sort of girl.
“I just wanted to do something different this year since it’s my last summer before…” I wince, realizing that college might be a sore subject to bring up to a guy who’s enrolled in summer classes.
“College?” he supplies, grinning at my sudden discomfort like something is funny.
Studying my glass, I nod. “That, and my best friend has a new boyfriend. The two of them are kind of…” Here I go again, trailing off like I can’t finish a complete thought. “I just wanted to give them a little space.”
“That sounds ominous.”
I wave my hand like it’s nothing. “I had a thing for him, and I wasn’t exactly subtle about it. It’s just a little awkward right now.”
“He picked her instead of you?” Linus knits his forehead like he’s genuinely confused, and my ego purrs again.
“It really wasn’t much of a competition,” I answer. “He was in love with her before I even met him.”
It’s a little weird having a real conversation with a guy, like friends. I’ve never had guy friends before. Guys were for dating, flirting at, going to dances with. They were status symbols. You wanted the best ones—the hot ones, the quarterbacks, the A-listers.
I have no idea where Linus would fit into all of that. He looks like a tousle-haired surfer jock but works at a video store like a geek, likes science like a nerd but is apparently taking summer classes. He’s a conundrum, and I don’t know what to do with him.
Don’t know what I want to do with him.
Finally, the waitress shows up to take our order. “Sorry ‘bout that, Linus.” She pulls out a pad and blows her bangs out of her eyes. “What can I get you?”
“No problem. Go ahead, Riley.”
“Cheeseburger—extra mustard and no onions, onion rings on the side, and a chocolate shake. Can you put whipped cream on that?” I hand her my menu.
Linus’
s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. He orders and then, after the waitress leaves, he grins.
Before he can say anything, I jump in. “You expected me to order a salad, didn’t you?”
“You do look like a salad kind of girl.” He pauses. “But I was really wondering why you ordered your hamburger without onion.”
“Because onions are gross.”
He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “You realize that onion rings are, in fact, made from onions, right?”
I grin and lean forward. “Yes, but they aren’t gross.”
Linus shakes his head, smiling. “So, deep fried onions are okay?”
“Deep fried anything is okay.”
He laughs, and I find myself somewhat enchanted by his smile. It’s pretty killer, actually. Bright and warm. It completely transforms him. Realizing I’ve been staring at him for several moments too long, I turn back to my empty drink.
“What are you going to do with the tart you bought?” I ask after we’ve been quiet for just a little too long.
“Is that what I bought?” he asks.
I give him a look. “You don’t even know what it is, but you bought it?”
Linus shrugs. “I figured it was a candle of some sort. It smelled pretty good; I thought I’d give it to my mom.”
“You melt them in these little electric warmers. They make your house smell good.”
He leans back in his chair, completely comfortable. “Now you’re saying I have to buy her one of these warmer things?”
I grin. “That’s right.”
A warm breeze blows through the patio, rustling the bunting hanging overhead. Lights have been strung in the eves, and misters sit in all the corners, silently waiting for the hot summer days that are sure to be here by mid-July.
“This place is cute,” I say. “I didn’t know about it.”
“It’s a well-kept secret.” Linus pauses to look around and then grins at the crowd. “Well, it used to be.”
There are a lot of tourists here.
I glance at the mountains, which rise just outside of town, green and inviting. I turn my attention back to Linus, appraising him.
“What?” he asks, leery of my expression.
“I don’t suppose you know any good hiking trails?” It’s a gamble, seeing as how he is, after all, a self-pronounced nerd and video store geek.
Shine and Shimmer (Glitter and Sparkle #2) Page 4