Chapter 8
It had been a long day at the bait shop.
Tourist season was always equal parts fantastic and nightmarish. The money Shawn earned in the summer months was at least five times the amount he earned during the months in the off-season. But some days, he wished he never had to interact with tourists. He’d become an expert in tourist personas, and he had them perfectly categorized.
First, there was The Overconfident Tourist. This was usually a man in his 40s or 50s who went fishing once and suddenly thought he knew how to line a rod or which bait worked best for redfish. When Shawn tried to help him with his selection, this man adopted the most condescending tone he could to explain to Shawn that he didn’t need any help. Shawn rarely saw these guys again—probably because they didn’t want to have to face him after squandering their time and money for a fishing trip that wasn’t successful.
Then, there was The Flirty Tourist. He didn’t mind the flirty men: they were nice and funny, and usually they had a pleasant conversation that led to them making a sizable purchase so they could do a photoshoot pretending to fish off their pontoon boat. But the women? They were sharks. They came in all ages, and they ruthlessly flirted, often touching Shawn’s forearm or pointedly checking him out or even leaving their number on the receipt. A few years ago, Shawn took advantage of every last one of them. No strings attached sex? Yes, please. But it got old, and boring, and, most of all, lonely. Now, it was just uncomfortable when women shamelessly hit on him, not picking up on his signals that he definitely was not interested. It was worse because he couldn’t ask them to stop without offending them and losing business. He’d tried.
And who could forget The Drunk Tourist? The ones who went on vacation so they had an excuse to start drinking the moment they woke up and chug their last beer before going to bed. Shawn loved a good time as much as the next guy, but those were the ones he worried about. They showed up with beer on their breath, looking for Shawn to take them on a booze cruise disguised as a chartered fishing trip, and how could he say no? They paid well, tipped even better, and he barely had to do any work besides babysit them to make sure nobody fell overboard.
His favorite customers—aside from locals, the regulars his grandfather had provided with shrimp and fishing line and lures before he took over the shop—were the families. He loved helping little kids find fishing rods they could use and watching them marvel over the shrimp tank and talking to the parents about best places to take their little ones.
But most of all, he loved taking the families on chartered fishing trips. Sure, he occasionally got big family groups—reunions, cousins getting together, and impromptu gatherings—wherein there’d be an undesirable tourist.
Maybe an uncle would be The Overconfident Tourist or an aunt would be The Flirty Tourist or some college-aged cousins would be The Drunk Tourists. But even when that happened, he always felt the happiest after those excursions. The fullest. Like what he did made a real difference. Like he was bringing people joy and helping kids create memories they’d never forget.
But today? Today, he exclusively worked with The Flirty Tourists. And they came in with a vengeance. He felt dirty and used—the way they drew their long fingernails up his arms without his consent making him want to shower. It was nonstop all day long, and he’d even let a Bachelorette Party rope him into taking them on a chartered fishing trip tomorrow. He’d charged twice his usual rate for it, but he was still dreading it with every fiber of his being.
As he parked his truck in the driveway, he leaned over the steering wheel and banged his head on top of it. He still had a long night ahead of him.
He’d promised Grams he’d go with her to Bingo, and he wouldn’t go back on his word. But the idea of spending his evening with a bunch of old ladies fawning over him wasn’t exactly how he’d like to wind down after a long day.
Tap, tap.
He lifted his head and looked out the window of his truck to find Willa staring at him with a curious and hesitant smile. The air was knocked out of Shawn as he took her in. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun with curls framing her face, and she was wearing a white sundress that tied together in the front, giving him just enough of a view of her tits that his mouth started to water.
As if he needed another reason to look at her lips, they were painted pink, and her tan and freckles shone brighter than normal, as if she’d spent the entirety of her time outside since she’d arrived.
The butterflies were back.
He tried to steady his thrumming heart.
Willa smirked and tapped her finger on the window again, and he realized she was waiting for him to respond. He opened the door of his car and stepped out, gruffly asking, “What are you doing here?”
He immediately kicked himself for his curt tone. Every time he was around her, everything came out his mouth like he was a caveman. He’d be apologizing to this woman for the rest of his life, but before he could say anything else, she responded.
“I’m here to go to Bingo with Ida,” she said. “If her keeper will let her out for the night, that is.”
“Nobody can tell Grams what to do. Not even me. Not even my grandfather.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
He grunted and started walking toward the house. Of course, Grams roped both of them into going to Bingo tonight. Of course, she just forgot to mention it to Shawn. Of course, Willa had to show up looking like that. If he could get through the night without getting a hard-on, it would be a freaking miracle.
“We’ll probably leave in a minute or two,” Shawn said without facing her.
“...we?” Willa asked, her voice coming out breathless.
So Grams hadn’t told Willa about their group outing, either.
Because of course she hadn’t.
Right as he was about to open the front door, Grams walked out wearing black pants and a white button down shirt, her purse in hand.
“Perfect timing, both of you,” she said. “Shawn, you’re driving.”
And without a second glance, she headed toward his truck and opened the back door.
“Ida,” Willa said, but a stern look from the woman in question had her backtracking. “Grams, I can sit in the back. You sit in the front with Shawn.”
“Nonsense,” Grams said, and Shawn hurried to help her climb into the back. “The front seat makes me dizzy anyway.”
Shawn bit his lip, trying to hold back laughter. His best friend, Tucker, got carsick easily and always sat in the front to combat it. He knew Grams was full of shit, but she clearly still had bright ideas about matchmaking, and he wasn’t about to try and call her out on her BS. He’d done that before and it never ended well for him.
Plus, he wasn’t opposed to Willa sitting up front with him.
The idea gave him butterflies.
Stupid butterflies. Again.
“The front seat makes you dizzy,” Willa deadpanned, crossing her arms.
“Yes, dear, that’s what I just said.”
“Grams, that makes no sense.”
Grams raised an eyebrow at Willa and gave her a look that still made Shawn feel like he was about to be grounded or have his phone taken away. It harkened back to the time he’d prank called the neighbors and Grams had sent him to bed without getting dessert.
“Are you calling me a liar, Willa Mae Greene?”
“Am I calling you a—” Willa paused and scrunched her nose. “Wait, how do you know my middle name?”
“I know a lot of things, missy,” Grams said sternly. “And I also know you shouldn’t disrespect your elders.”
“Disrespect? Grams, I’m just asking a question.”
“Here’s a question: Why are you about to make us late for Bingo?”
Willa sighed and turned her head toward the sky, as if asking God for mercy. Shawn couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this entertained, and he wasn’t anxious to end this interaction between Willa and Grams, but he knew better than to encourage this when being late to Bingo was on the line.
“C’mon,” Shawn whispered to Willa. “It’s not even a 10-minute drive to the church. You don’t have to sit next to me for long, Greene.”
Pink crept into Willa’s cheeks, and Shawn was thrilled to have caused it.
“I—it wasn’t—I don’t—” she spluttered, and Shawn guided her to the passenger seat and opened the door for her.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a wink.
Couldyou orgasm just from seeing a man wink? Because Willa thought she just might.
She’d done everything she could to put Shawn out of her mind. Behind all the grunting and saying the wrong things at the wrong time, he was a nice guy. She could tell. And he was also sexy as fuck, which was the problem.
Ida clearly had grand plans to bring them together. Willa had started to suspect the older woman during their walk this morning, when she waxed poetic for all of thirty minutes about how Shawn took such good care of her, how he was so kind and caring, how he had always been a good man. But her blatant attempt to make them sit next to each other in the car was clear proof that Ida harbored a hope that Shawn and Willa would get together.
Which couldn’t happen.
Because Willa promised herself that she was taking a break from men.
At least, from boyfriends. She didn’t trust herself not to fall for a man who’d do her dirty, just like they all had before. And even with Ida’s ringing endorsement of Shawn, she still felt uneasy. Plus, she wanted casual sex. A one-night stand. Or better yet, a fuck buddy. And she couldn’t do that with Shawn.
Could she?
“So, Ida, how was your day?” Willa asked, desperate to focus on something other than the man sitting so close to her that there was no avoiding his intoxicating scent—like a mixture of the salty air and some sort of aftershave.
“Can’t hear you from back here, sweetie,” Ida responded. “We can visit once we get there.”
Willa looked back at Ida with an incredulous expression on her face. Ida shrugged and looked out the window. Willa faced forward and sighed, rolling her eyes in irritation.
“Sorry about her,” Shawn said quietly. “She gets tunnel vision once she puts her mind to something.”
“Clearly,” Willa smirked. “So. How was your day?”
Shawn grimaced, and glanced over at Willa. He sighed.
“Tourist season is always interesting,” he said, then paused in thought. “It’s busy, and I have a few local kids help me out at the shop so I can keep up with everything. But some of the customers can be… challenging for me to work with.”
“What, like Karens?” Willa asked.
“Sometimes,” Shawn said.
A beat of silence passed, and Willa looked over at him, brows drawing together. Where was the guy who winked at her a few minutes ago? The guy who sheepishly apologized for his grandmother’s not-so-subtle matchmaking? Something happened at work—that much was clear, based on his awkward silence and his white knuckles and the way she found him earlier, with his head on the steering wheel.
“But not today,” Willa said.
Shawn released a breath and glanced over at her. “Not today.”
He pinched his lips together as if in thought, then it all came bumbling out.
“I feel like this is going to make me sound like a cocky bastard, but?—”
“Language!” Grams shouted from the back.
“Thought you couldn’t hear us, Grams?” Shawn said, eyeing her through the rearview mirror with a bemused grin. “Anyway. I know this’ll make me sound like… well, like the word I said before. And you already probably think I’m a di—a jerk.”
Willa bit her lip at his attempt to watch his language.
“But sometimes, women come into the shop. Tourists. And they… well, they flirt with me. Pretty hard. And it’s just… I don’t love it. It makes me uncomfortable. I just want to sell them bait and take them on fishing trips, but the way they touch me makes me feel dirty. Used. Like all I’ll ever be seen as is a good time.”
Her heart ached for him—because she knew exactly how he felt. How many times had she made up a fake boyfriend to get a sleazy, disgustingly persistent man to leave her the fuck alone?
“There were a couple of girls who…” Shawn trailed off, as if deciding how much he should share. “Well, I thought it was the real thing with them. Thought they’d want to stick it out with me—make it work. Turns out I was just being stupid. They ghosted me the day they left. There was one who I later found out was here for her bachelorette party. I was her last hurrah before getting married. Made me feel like a piece of shi?—”
He cut himself off and checked the rearview mirror to see if Grams was paying attention. He smirked, then added, “Anyway, after that, I decided I was done with tourists. Unfortunately, tourists have not decided they’re done with me. And on days like this, it really sucks.”
So maybe this guy was not the emotionally unintelligent caveman she’d made him out to be when they’d first met. Maybe he was kind and caring and in touch with his feelings and dealt with some of the same bullshit she did. Maybe he wasn’t just nice. Maybe he was actually a good guy.
Fuck.
She was in trouble.
“This is the part where you say that I’m being stupid and if I were a normal guy, I’d just flirt back and give them what they’re after,” Shawn said.
“I would never say that,” Willa said, equal parts annoyed that he assumed she’d respond that way and empathetic that he clearly felt so insecure sharing this with her. So she threw him a bone—a peace offering, of sorts. “I know what it’s like to get unwanted attention from people like that. To be shamelessly flirted with and not know how to get it to stop. To be reduced to nothing but your body.”
Shawn looked over at her, surprise lighting up his eyes at her admission.
“I can imagine,” he said.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Willa asked, crossing her arms and biting back a grin.
“Fuck, nothing, I just?—”
“Watch your language, Scooby. I won’t ask again.”
Shawn rolled his eyes.
“Grams, you either can hear us or you can’t. You don’t get to have it both ways.”
“Hmph,” was all she said in response.
Shawn sighed and muttered under his breath. Something about “eccentric old woman” and “give me a conniption.”
“Willa, look,” Shawn said. “I… fu—I mean, crap. I always say the wrong things around you, don’t I? All I meant was that… God, you’d have to be blind not to see how pretty you are. So I can imagine that it leads to unwanted attention, is all.”
She could feel him looking at her, but she stared out the passenger window digesting what he’d said. Her stomach fluttered in pleasure, which was stupid, because guys called her pretty all the time. But the way Shawn said it was like he’d combust if he didn’t tell her. And it made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.
“Well, for the record, I was just messing with you,” Willa said quietly. “But thanks. You’re not bad, yourself.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips quirk up in a half smile as he pulled into the church parking lot.
“Next time it happens, tell them you have a girlfriend who teaches yoga,” Willa heard herself say as Shawn’s lips parted. “They don’t have to know it’s not true. But use me as an excuse anytime you want. It’s how I get men to leave me alone. Making up a fake boyfriend.”
After staring at her for a second too long, Shawn nodded and put the car in park.