That’s a Wrap (Magnolia Point)
Chapter 1
1
PETER
S eriously, it’s not that cold.
Even in November, Magnolia Point is warm and humid. Not hot, mind you, but definitely warm. And since I’m used to the brisk, dreary fall weather in New York, I’m able to brave the sixty-degree temps in just a t-shirt and jeans. Apparently, that’s the wrong move to make, seeing as every other person in this town finds anything under eighty to be downright chilly.
A few people shoot sidelong glances at me as I walk down Main Street, pulling their jackets tighter around themselves as if just looking at my bare arms makes them cold. I’m tempted to start flexing and give them a show. After all, I’ve worked hard on these pythons I have stuffed through my shirt sleeves and they deserve some attention. Instead of giving in to vanity, I just smile politely.
Since I only moved here a week ago, I don’t want to make any bad first impressions with anyone. Or bad second or third or any number, for that matter. I prefer to only give people good impressions of me. Now, my younger brother might disagree, but I strongly believe life is just easier if people like you. Nate , on the other hand, will tell you that life is easier if you avoid everyone. Thank God I’m not a hermit like him.
So for every person who raises an eyebrow at my arguably normal attire, I wave and give them a cheerful good afternoon greeting. A few people offer a reply, but most wince and look away, as if they didn’t expect to get caught staring at the new guy in town.
Although I love the attention, I hope it dies down soon. I moved to Magnolia Point for a fresh start, not to be gawked at like a circus performer. If I want to blend in, I guess I’ll have to wear a jacket regardless of the temperature outside. Seems kind of weird to me, but I can conform.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven’t had lunch yet. Glancing around, I spot the Riverside Cafe, a small restaurant a little farther down the street. So I head that way, excited to try out some local food.
A small chalkboard is placed outside the door that reads:
National Sandwich Day!
Please enjoy a free sandwich with
a purchase of chips and a drink!
The handwriting is loopy and feminine with a smiley face and what looks like a crudely drawn sandwich doodled to the side of the text. However, if I tilt my head just a bit, it looks more like a sailboat. Whether it’s supposed to be a sandwich or a boat, it’s cute, in a small-town-charm kind of way, and I can’t help but smile.
There are also multiple awards and placards decorating the door and window of the cafe, impressing me before I even walk into the building. Then, the moment I enter, I’m hit with the thick, delicious scent of fresh-baked bread and my mouth immediately begins to water. There are a handful of tables scattered around, each with a different number of colorful chairs, as if they were rearranged by patrons and haven’t been put back to their rightful spots. The floor is scuffed from years of shoes and chair legs scraping over it, but otherwise very clean.
What really draws me in, though, are the various photographs and pictures that cover the walls. Some of them appear to be professionally taken and some look amateur. There are even a few blurry selfies mixed in among the frames. There’s something about the pictures that draws me in, the way the photographer is able to capture the beauty in the mundane, catching that moment of joy on someone’s face when they weren’t looking. It’s mesmerizing and heartwarming.
My admiration gets cut short when a voice calls out, “I’ll be with you in one moment, sir!”
Tearing my eyes away from the photos, I turn around and throw out my signature charismatic smile. I’m about to respond when I finally see who greeted me, and my reply gets caught in my throat. A young woman who couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties stands behind the deli counter. Her thick black hair is pulled into a single braid with a few loose curls framing her face. There are faint freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose, the last remnants of summer still gracing her skin. When she fully turns toward me, I see her eyes are a bright green, rivaling any emerald or jade I’ve ever seen.
Then, just as quickly as our eyes meet, she looks back to the older man standing in front of me to take his order. “You want the usual today, Randy?” she asks him, in a honeyed voice. There’s a slight Southern drawl in her tone. The accent’s not overt. More like she grew up with it but is trying to smooth it out and sound more refined.
Randy replies something that amuses her, but I don’t hear what he says. It’s like everything has faded into the background except for this woman. I keep staring at the way her eyes crinkle at the sides and her dark eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. And how she brings her hand up to her face while she laughs, as though her smile is a secret that only a select few gets to see.
And I know, without a doubt, I want to be one of the select few.
Her gem-colored gaze darts to me again, and when she catches me staring, she quickly schools her face and turns her attention back to the sandwich in front of her. I watch her closely enough to notice the tips of her ears have turned red. She may be embarrassed to have been caught looking at me, but I’m sure as hell not. I want her eyes on me. So, I keep my gaze trained on her, drinking in all of her expert sandwich-making movements and take note of every time her ears get a shade darker.
Oh yeah, this place was definitely a good choice for lunch.
As she wraps the sandwich in parchment paper, she peers up at the older gentleman. “Did you see the sign out front?” She hooks a thumb toward the door. “All sandwiches are free today, but only if you get chips and a drink.”
“Of course, I saw the sign! That’s why I came in today!” Randy slaps his leg like he just said the world’s funniest joke.
The sandwich goddess rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Randy, you come in every day. Free sandwich or not.”
“Well, I don’t think I came by on October 23rd,” he says seriously while squinting up at the ceiling.
“Then, we must’ve been closed that day.” She laughs and waves him to the register. “Come on, old man. Grab your salt and vinegar chips, so I can give you the discount.” She hands him a cup for his drink as he pulls a few bills from his wallet.
Her casualness with him makes me chuckle, but when the both of them throw me a suspicious look, I cover the sound with a cough.
Randy pays for his food, grabs his cup, and heads toward the soda fountain. “I’ll see you when I see you, Elle.” He lifts his sandwich in the air and gives her a smile.
“See you tomorrow, Randy.” She shakes her head at him as he grumbles about not coming in every single day before he leaves.
The bright jingle of the bell on top of the door signals his departure, and it’s just Elle and me left in the cafe.
“Sorry about the wait,” she apologizes, putting on a pair of fresh gloves and returning to the sandwich station. “What can I get for you?”
Having her full attention on me sends a jolt of electricity up my spine and I find myself wanting to keep her focus on me for as long as possible. I quirk up the side of my mouth and lean my palms on the counter in a casual, yet interested fashion.
“No worries at all. It gave me some time to look at the menu.” That’s a lie. I’ve been too busy watching her to even waste a glance at the menu. “ Everything looks really good, so what would you recommend?”
If she catches my double entendre, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she glances up at the menu board with a serious expression on her face and remains quiet for a few seconds.
“I think you’d like the Socra-tease. It’s a grilled chicken and feta sandwich,” she says with such conviction that I immediately agree with her.
“The Socra-tease it is then.”
She pulls a chicken breast out of the fridge and slaps it onto the grill before turning back to the sandwich station to grab the rest of the ingredients. “I grilled these fresh this morning. Just warming it up for your sandwich.”
“No worries. Take your time.” I shove my hands in my front pockets, pinching the inside of my thigh in an effort to get my dick to calm down. This girl is seriously gorgeous, even if she is a few years younger than me. When I spot a bag of thin tortillas next to the bread, I point to it and ask, “Oh, actually, can I get that on a spinach wrap instead of the ciabatta?”
That catches Elle’s attention and she looks up at me like I grew a second head. “You want it to be a wrap… instead of a sandwich?” she confirms.
“Yeah, is that okay?” Now, I’m confused by her confusion. I mean, most places can make that substitution pretty easily, right?
“Sure, it’s no problem.” She nods slowly with a small shrug, like she just can’t grasp why in the world I would want a wrap instead of a sandwich.
“Great, thanks.” With my hands still in my pockets, I rock back on my heels, doing my best to ignore the incredulous looks Elle keeps sending my way as she makes my sandwich-turned-wrap.
“So,” she starts, after a minute of expertly placing arugula and sun-dried tomatoes on the thin green flatbread. “Are you just passing through town? It seems a little out of season to be vacationing right now.”
“Not quite.” I keep my reply purposely vague. It works, and Elle looks up at me out of curiosity, raising a single dark eyebrow. Her way of asking for an explanation. “I actually just moved here. Magnolia Point is now home, sweet home.”
Her other eyebrow shoots up to meet its counterpart. “You moved here? Who on Earth would move to Magnolia Point?” She tilts her head while eyeing me over the counter.
“Someone who’s not from here,” I retort with a smirk.
She rolls her gorgeous green eyes. “Yes, thank you, Einstein. What I meant was… why would anyone want to move here, of all places?” Her pert nose scrunches up.
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t anyone want to move here? It’s nice, quiet, and right by the beach.”
A look of frustration flashes across her features, but she quickly smooths it out until her face is a blank mask. “It’s only quiet right now because it’s the off-season. Just wait. Once summer hits, you’ll want to be anywhere but here.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I say, leaning against the counter again. “Here has some pretty delectable-looking… sandwiches that I’m dying to try. So maybe I’ll stick around.” Wanting to make sure she catches my meaning this time, my eyes drop down to her mouth as I lazily let the tip of my tongue drag along my own bottom lip.
Her mouth slightly pops open, allowing her plump pout to form an almost perfect circle while her whole face—not just her ears this time—turns a pretty shade of pink.
“Wha… But you don’t… Who…” she sputters, knitting her eyebrows as her long eyelashes flutter. Clearly, she’s just now realizing that I’m flirting with her, and it’s so fucking cute.
She stares up at me for a moment before blowing out a deep breath that sounds way more erotic than I’m sure she intends. Then she returns her focus on her work, folding the parchment paper over my sandwich. Clearing her throat, she walks over to the register and I follow along, grabbing a bag of barbecue chips and a bottled soda from the cooler.
“Alright, that’ll be $10.59,” she states, staring at the register while refusing to acknowledge her recent loss of words.
I’m almost disappointed that she’s choosing to ignore my flirtatious attempts, but I’m too busy trying to do math in my head as the amount she gave me seems wrong. “That’s pretty steep for just a drink and some chips,” I comment—although I’m already taking out my wallet to pay.
“Well, that’s because that total is for the wrap, chips, and a drink.” Her eyes drift to the side.
“Oh.” I pause. “But doesn’t that sign outside say that I can get a free sandwich if I get chips and a drink?”
She nods. “Yes, that’s right.”
I let her statement hang in the air for a second; however, when I realize she’s not going to correct her error, I ask, “Then shouldn’t my total just be for the chips and soda? Ya know, since I get the sandwich for free ?” I’m sure she can hear the puzzlement in my tone.
She finally lifts her head. “But you didn’t get a sandwich. You got a wrap.”
Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because she looks at me like I’m the stupidest person alive and definitely not the type of man she’d be willing to date.