3. Summer
CHAPTER 3
Summer
T he next morning I get ready for work, putting on slacks that compliment my curves, nipping in at the waist and smoothing out my lower belly. It wasn’t a point of contention for me until I had my C-section. After that, my stomach never looked the same, and it became one of my biggest insecurities. I pair the slacks with a top that has an asymmetrical neckline and grab my favorite heels. I check myself in the mirror one last time, making sure everything is in place and that I didn’t forget to put mascara on (like I’ve been known to do).
Before leaving for work, I dump out the half-full bowl of water and put it back under the drip. I really hope that someone will be able to come out soon and fix the leak. I shudder to think of the mold that moisture like that could grow. I vow to call the contractor on my lunch break. I grab my bag, coat, and umbrella before going through the door to the garage.
Despite the rain, it’s a quick drive to First Bank of Lakeland. One of the biggest perks of living in a small town is that it only takes fifteen minutes max to get anywhere. I push through the door, deposit my umbrella in the stand that's older than me, and go to greet Sherry, the only coworker who got here before me today.
Sherry has been a teller at FBL for nearly thirty years. The job satisfies her nosy tendencies, since you tend to learn a lot about people when you’re in charge of their money. We’re usually the first to know who got fired, who’s getting divorced, and if someone is moving or making a big purchase. If you pay attention (like Sherry), you can put all the pieces together to form the picture of someone’s life. She’s the one who trained me when I first got hired right after graduation. I wave to her before I set my things in the break room and head to my station.
“Hey, doll!” She gives me a quick, pearly-white smile and turns to her computer where she’s pulled up a game of solitaire, smacking soundly on the ever-present piece of gum in her mouth. She used to be a smoker, but the oral fixation never went away after she quit. She always smells like classic Hubba Bubba mixed with Chanel No. 5 and it surprisingly works for her.
I turn on my computer and get my station set up for the day. Being a bank teller isn’t a glamorous job, but it's one I enjoy. The fact that I have a steady routine and get to chat with different people all day is something I really love.
Mark and Rachel, my coworker and boss, burst through the door and we all focus on getting the bank ready to open by nine. I switch out our promotional posters hanging in the large front windows and finally manage to take down the Easter decorations that have been hanging around for far too long. I stuff them into the decorations bin in the storage closet and mourn the empty look of the bank. Even though the Easter decorations were a little tacky, they provided a break from the boring, practical, beige color scheme. Soon, Mark flips the sign to “open” and the first customers start to trickle in.
By twelve, I’m just about ready to take my lunch when I hear the door jingle cheerily to herald the arrival of another customer. I paste a bright smile on my face and use my best customer service voice before even looking up from the loan application I’m reviewing. “Hi! Welcome to First Bank, what can I do for you?” As I finally look up, my smile falters when I lay my eyes on the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in this small town. And he’s walking right toward me. I blink and renew the smile that slipped, not wanting to obviously ogle the man.
His striking green eyes catch mine from under a baseball cap, which he’s pulled low over his brow in an attempt to contain the dark waves that just brush his collar. My eyes track over his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and big hands. I try my best not to swoon. I’m a hand girl, what can I say? “You’re new,” I blurt out. It’s a small town, so I’m pretty sure I would have seen him around and I definitely would have remembered him.
I’m silently thanking god that it’s Sherry’s turn to grab food for everyone before the weekly meeting. She would be incorrigible around this man.
His answering laugh is low and smoky and delicious. “You can say that. I grew up around here, but I moved away freshman year of high school. I just got back into town.” He approaches my station and leans forward just a bit, resting his hip on the counter. I inhale and smell a whiff of something warm and spicy, making me want to lean in closer.
I right myself when I realize I’m leaning over the counter like a plant starved for sun. Be normal, I command myself. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Never got to see much outside of Lakeland, but I can’t complain. It’s a good place to live. What brings you back?”
“Work, actually. I’m a contractor and found a job working under Davidson Construction here in town. I was sort of traveling around, doing odd jobs here and there, and finally decided to settle down somewhere. My sister is also close by in Springview, so I figured Lakeland was a good place to set down some roots. It’s got the perfect small-town feel. I missed it.”
I tilt my head, the name of the company sounding familiar. “ Davidson Construction?” He nods and I pull out my phone to look at the picture Jared sent me last night. Sure enough, that’s the name of the business he gave me. “I was actually just about to call you guys on my break. I have a leaky roof issue that I was hoping to get fixed soon.”
His mouth turns down in concern. “Is it bad?”
“Not terrible, but I have to use a bowl so the water doesn’t ruin my furniture or floor. I’m more worried about it getting worse. It's an older house and it hasn’t had much work done since it was built.” He nods and opens his own phone, tapping around on the screen for a while.
“I have an opening at three today. Does that work?” he asks after a minute of silence. Oh. I blink.
“You’re going to come check it out? Not Dan?” I have Dan’s business card, the head contractor and business owner.
“Yeah, Dan has a full schedule today, but I’m free.” He seems to go a little red under the shade of his hat. “Unless… Unless you want to wait for Dan. He might have something later in the week. I get that I’m new, so you might be more comfortable with him since you know him.” He scratches his bearded cheek.
“No!” I exclaim. Then, more calmly I say, “I mean, no. I don’t know him either. A, uh, friend gave me the number, so I’m not loyal to anyone in particular. I’ll have to leave work a bit early, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” I smile in a way that I hope reads more reassuring and less serial killer.
He smiles warmly in reply, showing off straight, white teeth. “Great. Can I have your number and address? I’ll need it to bill the job.” I rattle off both as he inputs them into his phone. He glances up at me and seems to look directly at my chest, which quickly flushes red under his gaze. I hear him mumble, “Summer,” and realize he was looking at my name tag. I suddenly feel ridiculous for assuming he was looking at me with anything more than professional curiosity .
“My name is Ryan, by the way.” He sticks his hand out with a grin.
I grip his large, warm hand in mine and give it a solid shake. “Summer,” I offer, even though he just wrote it down. He’s still smiling at me, holding my hand in his for a beat longer than necessary when I gently tug it away. “So what brought you in today? Aside from getting a new customer,” I joke.
“Right, I definitely didn't just come in to meet the pretty bank teller.” He looks at me and winks. Before my brain has a chance to process that information and reboot, he says, “I actually came in to open an account. I wanted to set up a direct deposit with work as well.”
I carefully sidestep the “pretty bank teller” comment because I’m sure he flirts with anything with legs. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall at his feet over a single compliment. I currently have at least one morsel of self respect fighting my desire to be flattered for dominance.
“Okay, let me get that started for you, Ryan.” After a few clicks on my computer, I print out the forms for him and show him where to sign.
“Thanks so much. I’ll see you at three?” He backs up, rolling the papers before shoving them in the back pocket of his well-worn jeans.
“Yes, see you then. Thank you for doing this on such short notice,” I say, happy that this is one more thing I can tick off my to-do list.
“No problem. It’s supposed to rain the rest of the week, so we should probably get it looked at sooner rather than later.” He gives me a wave while opening the door, letting in the heady scent of petrichor. “Bye, Summer.”