Chapter Five
E mma
“He’s here for you ?”
“Hey!” Emma slapped Sasha on the shoulder playfully. “Try not to sound so surprised, hater.”
Sasha seemed to reconsider, peering out of the service window and nodding at the tall drink of water sitting hunched over at the corner table all by his lonesome. “Not surprised, per se, just ... jealous, maybe?”
“Don’t let Rich hear you say that,” Emma teased, bumping her coworker’s hip in the surprisingly spacious PB & Cray food truck. It was a simple, if effective, concept. All manner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, made to order, hip as hell and twice as trendy, just perfect for the slew of tourists after a long, sunny day at the beach. Or, as the catchy logo under the dancing peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the top of the truck said, “Comfort Food with a Twist!”
“Please,” Sasha teased, nodding at the curved sign over the entrance to their own little food truck court, sandwiched between a souvenir stand and a local brewery on Seagull Street, the main drag through downtown. “What happens on Snack Street stays on Snack Street, right?”
They shared a conspiratorial chuckle, woman to woman, Emma smoothing down her tan and purple work apron nervously as she struggled not to stare at Mitch across the cobblestone paved lot that was central to their half-dozen eclectic food trucks, situated in a semi-circle around the casual outdoor dining patio. “I thought he was kidding.”
“Kidding about what?” Sasha was using the downtime between customers to admire her new spring nails, a different miniature flower on each lilac background, the vibrant contrast setting off her luxuriant brown skin.
“He said he wanted me to show him around the beach, so...”
Sasha snorted, plump cheeks dimpling around an envious smile. “So what are you still doing in this tin can, Girl?”
Emma hemmed. Just a bit. “I just ... playing hard to get, I suppose.”
“You’ve played that already,” Sasha insisted. “He’s been here for over an hour.”
“I guess he’s waiting for me to get off?” Emma mused, feeling flattered and paralyzed in equal measure.
“So go get off then, damn!”
Emma leaned back against the cluttered prep counter behind her, none too eager to be seen by Mitch as he poured over his obviously just purchased beach bag for the dozenth time since he’d shown up. “I just, what am I supposed to do with him?”
Her friend and coworker of five years snorted. “You were married once, weren’t you?”
“Sasha!”
“I’m just saying, you already know what to do, you just have to have the balls to go out there and do it.”
“With him?”
“Why not him, damn. Long, lean, shaggy hair, look at those big ass hands of his and those pretty boy lips?”
Despite agreeing with Sasha wholeheartedly, Emma still shrank back from the reality of her words, curling into herself as if forming a protective seal against the very assets Sasha was describing. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Sasha went to troll her some more, then merely nodded and sank back against the opposite countertop. “Fine, Em. I get it. But Dave left you five years ago, girl. If you never get back on that horse, then...”
Her best friend and coworker paused, nodding quietly. “Dave didn’t just leave me, remember?”
“We both know that,” Sasha said with a clipped, almost impatient tone. Emma could hardly blame her. After all, they’d only had this discussion about a million times since then. “You know what I mean.”
She nodded pointedly out the service window, a giant rectangle cut in the front of the converted Airstream trailer, as functional as it was trendy. And, luckily for the two business partners, profitable. “He’s hot, he’s young, he’s clearly into you and...”
“And he’s temporary,” Emma finished for her.
“You’re including that in the Loss column?” Sasha wondered, apparently sincerely. “Or the Win column?”
Their eyes met in the space between them. Emma shook her head. “I can’t afford to get hurt again, Sasha.”
“So don’t, then.” Her friend’s advice was blunt, and necessary. “Go into it knowing it’s going to be a fling and leave it at that.”
Emma stared at her grubby work shoes. “I’ve never done that before.”
Sasha was appropriately, even dramatically, shocked. “Had a fling? I mean, not even back in school? Before you two met?”
“Dave and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first and, so far, my last...”
“Your only?” Sasha finished for her.
“Again, try not to sound so surprised.”
“What are you waiting for then?” Sasha murmured, reaching for the double bow on Emma’s too-big work smock and tugging it with purpose. It gave easily, the work smock loosening along with Emma’s pent-up inhibitions. Her friend was right, obviously. Emma was no dummy, she knew this already. She was just hurt, wounded, fragile and broken, even after five long, dry, celibate years.
And in no rush to feel that way all over again.
“Sasha, seriously...” Even as she protested, Emma slid the work smock over her head and hung it from one of the hooks across from the food truck’s back door. The workspace, normally so cheery and girly and friendly and fun, with bopping 80s music from an ever-expanding playlist Sasha blasted from her Bluetooth speaker, had grown ominous and claustrophobic around her, making her ache for more than just an early release.
“I am being serious, Em. What if you get hit by a truck on the way home and die knowing the only man you ever slept with was a two-timing, lowdown, no good loan officer at some boring ass bank?”
Emma chuckled, the sound hollow and forced above the pit of her leaden stomach. “Sasha, he’s a babe in the woods. I’d be surprised if he can even buy beer yet. I’m practically twice his age.”
“Practically twice his age is not actually twice his age,” Sasha reminded her, pushing her playfully, if forcefully, toward the back door. “And 34 is hardly anything these days, girl. Honestly? A young stud, ready to indulge in a little spring break horniness? Could be just the ticket to get you back on the horse and out into the real world again.”
Emma found herself thudding down the back steps onto the concrete strip of sidewalk that bordered the backs of each quietly humming food truck, equal parts fast getaway and au natural employee breakroom. “I guess that’s what I’m afraid of, Sasha.”
Sasha stood in the doorway, looking every bit the scolding mother as she even wagged a finger, however playful, in the general direction of sweet, sexy, tempting Mitch. “You were afraid when we opened up this food truck park, Emma, and look at you now. You were afraid when your husband left you, and look at you now. I fully expect, a week from now, you to never be afraid of hitting on another man again, but you’ll never know if you don’t start now. Right now. Today.”
Emma started to protest, however weakly, when the door slammed shut in her face. She smiled, secretly glad for the pep talk if not the minor theatrics. After all, she’d been acting like she had her shit together all day when, obviously, nothing could be further from the truth.