14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Betty
I ’m a fool.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for the last few months has evaporated in a day. I’m standing on the boardwalk across from Driftwood, a place I promised I’d avoid, wearing an outfit I had vanquished to the deepest, darkest corner of my closet.
This was exactly what I feared. I’m back, wearing the same outfit from a year ago, hanging with the same man from last summer, acting like I don’t have a care in the world—like I did a year ago.
And the worst part? Instead of warning bells ringing in my head, all I feel is normal. The everyday struggle I’ve battled with the last months dissipated the moment Laredo said something ridiculous and I burst into a schoolgirl giggle that hadn’t paid a visit in forever.
He’s a dangerous temptation. I know this. Yet I am here.
“Owwwllll!” The ridiculous howl behind me causes me to turn. Laredo is performing a dangerous tiptoe across the railing of the boardwalk as if he’s a circus high-wire artist. Chin lifted to the sky, he howls to the moon again. “Drop off a donation and get to hang with the one and only Ricco Hanlon.”
He’s the handsome devil that has me thinking things I shouldn’t. He always has been. My breath stifles in my chest, and I find my body leaning toward him. Damn, he’s handsome. But it’s not just that. He carries a confidence I’ve only learned to fake. Even when I know he’s spewing crap, his charm and confidence have me questioning the truth and making choices I shouldn’t.
Laredo points down to the large red-and-yellow festival bucket by my side. It’s half-filled with cans and pantry staples. A good start.
And he was right. He somehow got Olivia to post his inappropriate video of me and my shorts on the Driftwood account. All night, guys have been stopping by, taking selfies with me and scanning the QR code and making donations to the pantry.
Miss Irene even called to ask what was going on because she received a bank notification due to the unusual volume of activity on the account. When I explained what was going on, Laredo snatched the phone from my hand and sent her the link of me prancing on the boardwalk in my shorts. I know I’ll have to face the disapproving eyes of Mrs. Burleson in the bookstore at her next school outing, but that’s a problem for another day.
I look up just in time to catch Laredo performing a full spin on the thin railing. It’s only a four-foot drop to the boardwalk, but that’s not what has me holding my breath. What if he loses his balance and tumbles in the opposite direction? It’s easily a twenty-foot drop to the sand below. I race forward, but his chuckle halts my feet.
He regains his balance and shoots me a what, me, worried? wink. A wink that takes my breath away. Sweat has his T-shirt clinging to his chest like a second skin. A delicious second skin that allows me to gawk unabashedly at the chest muscles and his six-pack.
I step toward him, my hands moving on autopilot, resting on the back of his thigh to steady him. “We should head in. It’s almost midnight.” Hours that normally feel as if they take days to pass have evaporated in the blink of an eye with Laredo.
“Just a few more seconds,” he whispers down at me without moving. I stare up at him, enjoying him from an angle I rarely get to enjoy. His gaze is out to the horizon. At this hour, the carnival rides light the night sky, none brighter than the massive Ferris wheel right on the waterfront. We are too far away to hear the screams of joy and laughter from the friends, families, and couples that frequent the carnival area. I push out the urge to ask him if he’d like to take a spin. Olivia and I have been on the Ferris wheel a dozen times, but in all my years coming to the festival, it wasn’t until last season that I shared a kiss with someone there—Laredo.
“All good?” I ask just to break the thoughts from taking root in my head. I look up to notice Laredo has closed his eyes. “Do you still need a few seconds?” When he doesn’t open his eyes and only gives me a short smirk, I know I’ve been played, again.
“I was just enjoying having your hand on my leg like that. Oh, the dirty thoughts bouncing around my head right now.”
I smack his calf and step back just as he drops onto the boardwalk, dangerously close to me. Everything this man does is dangerous to me. He leans forward, and my body responds without thought, matching his movement. Our noses are a mere inch from touching. The scent of salty air shifts to the musky, earthy tones of his cologne. The scent that tortured my dreams for weeks after he hopped on the plane.
“How about you and me…” The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips, the deliberate distraction causing my eyes to track his movement. His voice slows to a dangerous slow dancing after hours after everyone has left the club speed. He lowers his voice two octaves, reminding me he’s not just a guitarist but a trained vocalist who knows how to elicit a response with the timber of his voice. “… after Driftwood.”
My gaze lifts, expecting to find hopeful eyes. But with Laredo, it’s never about hope. It’s a foregone conclusion. He’s already picturing our bodies twisted underneath the sheets in his hotel room. It would be so easy to tip forward. To press my lips to his. To agree to everything he wants. To do everything my body is screaming at me to do.
But I won’t.
“After Driftwood…” I lower my heels back to Earth. This man won’t have me float up into the stratosphere, not when I know from history he won’t be here when I come crashing down to the hard, cold dirt. “I’m going home… alone.”
I know better than to expect a reaction. From his perspective, a no from me may be foreign, but it’s just the start of the negotiation. I can’t blame him for taking this stance. It’s what I’ve trained him to expect. He’s not the only one that needs retraining.
“We’ll see.” His words are filled with the confidence of history. Our history. He steps around me and lifts the bucket by the handles on either side. The bucket must weigh nearly eighty pounds, and I order my eyes not to stare at the pop of his biceps or how his T-shirt tightens across his back when he lifts it.
Driftwood is located across the boardwalk, less than twenty yards from where we set up. I clear a path for Laredo on the crowded boardwalk. He plops the bucket next to the high-top table Olivia had set aside for us. A plastic stand holding flyers about the food drive sits on the table.
“You can set up right there. I’ll pop in to see if Ricco and our surprise guest have arrived.” I scoot through the door before Laredo can speak. I swing open the door to escape the man, only to face something just as deadly. My old haunt.
The sounds of laughter, loud voices, and glassware clinking behind the bar and the smell of sweat, beer, and perfume invade my nostrils. It’s a unique combination that, despite my objections, pulls a smile onto my face. My hands clutch in front of my chest as my eyes roam a place I’ve called my second home for nearly a decade.
My eyelashes flutter, and I fight back tears. Happy tears. I spot Jason and Mary-Anne, two of our regulars. Six years ago, I served them their first drink together. Three years ago, I served them the night Jason proposed right at the table they are sitting at right now. No matter what direction I look, I spot familiar faces, mementos from my history. Kevin from the auto repair shop spots me, his eyes widening in recognition, and he lifts his mug in salute in my direction. Two tables over, a group of women catches my gaze, a fist pumped in the air followed by shouts. They rise from their table, and I know what comes next.
I turn, hoping to escape, but my movement is stopped by a strong arm wrapping around my waist, his earthy scent giving it away. “Returning to a place filled with happy memories should always be embraced, not avoided.” I lower my chin and make a note that he doesn’t release me but gives me a tighter squeeze.
“Embrace it,” he orders, but it comes across as friendly advice. Frozen in place, it takes a minute for me to realize his lips are on my neck, a warm peck that is gone before I realize what is going on. “I’ll check in on Ricco. Take your time and work the room. You’re back where you belong.”
The bar becomes a blurry background, my gaze taking in only one thing. Him. I can’t take my eyes off his confident strut across the bar as if he owns it. It’s not until he navigates around a crowded table that I realize I’m surrounded by familiar, cheerful faces. Smiles, laughs, and genuine looks of good seeing you fill my view. Hugs and embraces follow, and Laredo’s words echo in my head. If this is where I belong, where does he?