Chapter 5
WENDY
Irush down the hallway, and I force myself to slow down. Halfway down the narrow stairs, I stop and place my free hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath. The smell of his towels is too much.
“Shit,” I whisper as my heart races. “I cannot do this.”
Once I regroup, I make my way to the laundry room. My body is still buzzing from where our fingers touched. The contact lasted seconds, but it was enough for me to feel everything.
In the laundry room, I drop his towels into the washer and twist the dial. The machine groans as it fills up. I’ve dealt with demanding guests before, but Carter Banks is in a category of his own. He’s a pompous asshole who has me thinking very bad thoughts.
No!
“Wendy? Are you in there?” Grandma asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, pulling several sets of king-size sheets from the dryer. Parts of them are still damp, so I flip them around and throw them back in.
I add restringing the clothesline to my rapidly growing list of things to do.
“Mrs. Hankers in Starfish needs two extra pillows. Firm ones.”
“Will do,” I say with a smile. “I’ll go now.”
Mrs. Hankers is a sweet, retired woman from Georgia who’s been here since Thursday. So far, she has apologized before every tiny request.
When I knock, her feet shuffle across the floor, and she answers with her reading glasses pushed up on her forehead.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Wendy.”
“No way. Happy to help. If you need anything else while you’re here, please let me know,” I say, handing them over.
“You’re a doll. I’m sure these will do. I’m used to those fancy memory foam pillows, so the soft ones do a number on my neck.”
I make a mental note to replace the pillows. She’s not the first person who’s done this since I’ve been back.
“I completely understand. Please let me know if these work out. If not, I have plenty more.”
“And that’s why I love staying here. You and Gale treat everyone like family.” She smiles.
Behind me, footsteps come down from the third floor. Carter passes and gives Mrs. Hankers a “Good morning,” before taking the second set of stairs to the lobby. His cologne lingers, and I keep my eyes on Mrs. Hankers.
“He’s very handsome,” she whispers, leaning out her doorway.
“He’s trouble,” I say.
“Oh, to be young and single again.” She gives me a wink before closing her door.
I take a few seconds, then head back to the lobby. On the counter is my open notebook, and I add the new items to the bottom before I forget. Maybe now that we have some money, a few of these items will be taken care of.
When I reach for a pen, my hand knocks over the cup of coffee I poured earlier. I grab a towel from the laundry pile and soak it up before the liquid reaches my notebook. Then I think about being alone with Carter this morning.
I want him out of my head.
The Galloways in the Driftwood check out at nine. I strip their bed, scrub the bathroom, then restock the toiletries. When I’m focused, I can flip an entire room from top to bottom in an hour.
Around ten thirty, Mrs. Hankers calls the front desk because her shower is running cold.
For the next hour, I stay crouched in the kitchen utility closet, speed-watching YouTube tutorials on my phone.
The pilot light on the water heater is out, and it takes several attempts before the flame catches.
There is never a dull moment working here.
If it keeps doing this, I’ll have to call someone. The reality is, I can’t be a carpenter, plumber, electrician, manager, and housekeeper, even if I want to.
My grandfather was the handyman, and without him here, repairs have piled up faster than Gran can fix them.
When the flame stays on, I stand and brush spiderwebs off my knees. My shorts are dusty, and my ponytail is crooked, but the hot water is working. Nothing can take away the satisfaction of fixing it myself without spending a dime.
Around noon, Gran comes through the back door with Lucille strolling behind her. They’re laughing about last night’s card game, where Gran won all their laundromat money. My grandma is in the kitchen before I can ask questions.
I want to do my best for her. The B&B is my and Josie’s inheritance, something the two of us will inherit and run when Gran is gone. Dad already said he didn’t want the responsibility, and the thought of it being sold makes me sick. Saving the place is personal.
“I need to go into town for about an hour,” I say when Gran comes out, carrying a cheese tray. “I have to pick up a few things for Mr. Banks.”
“No problem. I told him whatever he needs, we’ll be happy to help. I’m glad to see he’s settling in. That young man doesn’t have very many friends.”
I tuck my hand into my pocket, feeling the folded hundreds and thinking about how much money he gave me. Then I remember his watch. He’s elite.
“Anyway, take your time, sweetie. Lucille and I will hold down the fort,” Gran says.
I realize I was completely lost in my thoughts. Once again, Carter Banks is the reason for my distraction.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I give her a smile. “Great.”
Grandma slides playing cards from a box and starts shuffling. I grab my big sunglasses and step outside. The sun is hot against my skin, and it’s not officially summer yet.
I take the beach path instead of the sidewalk into town because I need to make a pit stop at Fallon’s surf shop. I need to talk to my best friend before I crash out over Carter.
The tide is low, and a group of kids chases each other with pool noodles while their parents sit under a striped umbrella. Two women in wide-brimmed hats walk ahead of me, stopping every few steps to pick up shells. A paddleboarder glides across the flat water close to shore.
Damn, I missed home.
Sunshine Surf sits at the end of the boardwalk with a rack of colorful rental boards out front, and a hand-painted driftwood sign hangs above the door.
When I step inside, I smell the familiar scent of coconut wax.
The floor is gritty with sand—something that will never change, no matter how often it gets swept.
The garage doors on each side make sure of that.
Fallon stands behind the register, helping a couple pick out boards for the afternoon.
I overhear her ask questions about their experience level, and she lets them loose with two soft tops in under a minute.
They leave, grinning, with the rental boards under their arms. Fallon yells and tells them to wear sunscreen and stay hydrated.
She turns, and when she sees me, her expression shifts. “Damn. You look terrible.”
“Thanks a lot. I’ve had a morning from hell.”
“Is Mr. Mysterious still haunting your hallways?” She smirks.
“He requested his bed be changed every single morning, along with a breakfast delivery to his room. Starting today. Grandma agreed and charged him, so now I’m obligated to be in his bedroom at seven a.m. for the rest of the summer.”
Fallon snorts, then tucks her lips into her mouth. “I’m sorry, but it’s hilarious. Just don’t know why you’re upset. You get to see him every morning. What a sight.”
“Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean he’s any less infuriating. I tried to warn him about the Bees, and he basically told me he doesn’t need my help.”
“Just ignore him then. That’s what I do when I’m not interested.
” She sets the leash down. “Spoke with Mariah an hour ago. She said she saw you gawking at Carter yesterday morning. Apparently, the whole island is talking about the hot guy in the little red shorts. Anyway, she said you stared dreamily.”
Mariah is one of Josie’s friends, who teaches sunrise yoga on the beach near the B&B a few times per week.
She moved back to Coconut Beach from Southern California a few months ago.
Our friend group picked right up where we’d left off.
She has a kind heart and pays more attention than I give her credit for.
Busted.
“He jogged past me while I was on my morning walk. I might have glanced in his direction.”
“Kinda like how you glanced at him at Sips & Sunsets the other night?”
“That was different. I had tequila. You know how it makes me brave.” I drop into the beach chair next to the register and take a breath. “Gran asked him if he was single at breakfast yesterday, and he dodged the question. No ring, but no answer.”
Fallon comes around the counter and hops up on the edge. “So, you’re scared he’s taken.”
“What? No.”
“Really? You’ve been in my shop for three minutes, and you haven’t stopped talking about him.”
“You started the conversation. Not me,” I protest, but she’s right.
“Can I say something you won’t like?” Fallon asks.
“Like you need my permission.”
“Great. I don’t think it’s Carter you’re afraid of.
You’re scared of you.” She says it with love in her tone, even if her words pack a punch.
“Adam didn’t break your heart. He broke your trust in yourself.
Now, some hot guy you’re actually attracted to shows up, flirts, and you’re afraid of what that could mean because you just wasted five years with someone. ”
I pick at a wax bar from the display rack and peel the label with my thumbnail.
“It feels too soon to move on,” I say. “I don’t trust myself.”
“Try taking some risks without expectation. You’ve been back for a month, and you haven’t done anything exciting. Stop punishing yourself for Adam’s bullshit. Live a little. I really miss my fun, happy friend.”
“He broke something inside me, Fallon.”
“He cracked your heart.” She pulls two water bottles from the mini fridge and tosses me one. “You’ll repair it.”
The seashell wind chimes clank outside in the breeze. Through the open walls, I watch tourists stroll the boardwalk with ice cream cones dripping in the heat.
“I’m trying,” I say.