Chapter 9 #2
“This is a small town, Carter. I can’t just go have lunch with you. Rumors would fly. I don’t need that right now,” she says. “You’ll be labeled as my rebound.”
I lean against the counter and smirk. “Do you think I give a fuck about what other people label me?”
She opens her mouth.
“I don’t.” I hold her gaze. “You shouldn’t either. Life is short enough.”
She stops sorting the mail, and her shoulders drop. “Who are you?”
“Carter Banks.”
“From New York,” she adds. “Who freely gives advice like a therapist and doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than having clean sheets and blankets on his bed every morning.”
I tilt my head at her. “I also love tacos.”
She chuckles. “Really?”
“I could eat them for every meal.”
Wendy goes back to sorting through the mail.
“You should try Paco Tacos food truck by Sunrise Beach Park. It’s yellow, and you won’t be able to miss it.
They have some of the best carnitas I’ve ever had.
The pico is homemade. And sometimes, Paco even has his famous Mexican corn in a cup.
Get the cotija cheese and chili powder. The teenagers order it with hot Cheetos on top. ”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I suddenly want corn in a cup.”
She smiles. “Enjoy. Tell him I said hi.”
An hour later, when I return from lunch, she’s chatting with someone in the kitchen. When she sees me, I hold up a bag and a Styrofoam cup with a lid on top.
“This is for you,” I offer.
She takes the bag and shakes her head. “Thank you.”
A second later, Gale comes from the kitchen, grinning. She glances at the bag and then at Wendy. “What do we have here?”
“Carter doesn’t know how to listen and brought tacos.”
I laugh. “And corn.”
Wendy’s smile breaks wide. “Stubborn man.”
“I don’t think stubborn is the word for it,” Gale says, shifting her weight to her other leg. “I know a few very nice girls who would love to go on a date with you. Food is the fastest way to a woman’s heart.”
“Is that so?” I ask.
“No, it’s not,” Wendy confirms. “But it’s very much appreciated. I was about to eat a bologna sandwich.”
Gale almost gags. “The thought of it makes me sick.”
“Enjoy,” I say. “You were right about the tacos. They were awesome. I also signed up for surf lessons while I was out.”
Wendy’s eyes widen. “Why?”
“Because I want to learn.”
“Oh, honey, save your money. Wendy was a surfing champion in her teens. She’s one of the best.”
“Gran, no. I cannot teach him,” she says.
I turn around to face her. “Seriously? A champion?”
She swallows hard. “Yeah, I was.”
“Then I’ll cancel the lessons, and you can teach me.”
Wendy shakes her head. “Not happening.”
“No, but you do make my bed every morning. So, instead of room service, I’d prefer to have an hour of surf lessons.”
“Daily is ridiculous. And I’m pretty sure you’re hot-girl fit. I don’t know if you could handle it.”
“Guess we’ll see. A few times per week will be great,” I say.
“Deal.” Gale grins. “Twice per week.”
“Hell no,” Wendy says sternly. “I’m not an instructor for the B&B. What if something happens to you out there? Surfing isn’t a game, Carter. It’s dangerous.” Her eyes are fierce.
“I’ll email the B&B a contract that states you aren’t responsible for me,” I tell her as I take the stairs. “My lawyer will be in contact.”
“Glad it’s settled,” Gale calls after me.
Wendy groans, and she’s too damn cute when she’s annoyed.
Around five, the front door opens below, and I glance over the railing without thinking.
Wendy steps out in a sundress with her dark hair in loose curls. Gold earrings catch the light when she turns at the bottom of the stairs. My fingers stop turning the page I just finished reading.
A few seconds later, a man approaches her.
He’s tall, fit, with dark hair. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and he grins when he sees her.
I hate him immediately. She walks into his hug without the careful half-second she seems to give everything else.
Every part of me thinks it’s wrong. He holds her like it’s not the first time, and she lets him.
Her chin rests on his shoulder, and she closes her eyes as she inhales him.
I close the book, and my hand stays clenched around the spine.
Her fingers smooth a crease on the front of his shirt. She throws her head back with the same laugh I heard last night.
I lean back in the chair and cross my arms because I don’t trust what my hands will do on the armrest.
As they walk toward the boardwalk, his arm finds its way around her. Before they’re completely out of sight, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. They get smaller and smaller until they disappear into the crowd by the pier.
My being a guest at the B&B wasn’t why she drew the line. He was.
But then again, she said there was no one official. Unless that has changed recently. My timing would be fucking awful.
I shouldn’t care. I’ve walked away from deals worth billions without losing sleep, and this woman has me gripping the arms of a chair because she hugged a man.
The sun moves lower, and I don’t go inside.
The boardwalk is empty now, but I keep watching it like she might turn around and come back. She doesn’t.
My phone vibrates, and I’m thankful for the distraction, even if it’s only temporary.
Jameson
NYC misses you. Come out with me tonight if you’re not busy.
Jameson Cross is the kind of friend who texts at the exact wrong moment every time.
He played six years in the hockey league before a shoulder injury ended his record-breaking career.
A month ago, he moved back to New York from Boston, and he’s trying to figure out what a retired athlete does at thirty-two.
We get each other.
Banks
I wish. Currently on vacation away from the city.
Jameson
That’s a bald-faced lie.
Banks
It’s not. The board forced me.
Jameson
Everything good?
Banks
Yeah, apparently, I’m an asshole who needs a break.
Jameson
Ha! A vacation won’t fix that.
Banks
That’s true.
Jameson
Well, watch yourself. Everyone’s falling in love lately. First Patterson. Now Louis. Which one of us is next?
Banks
You.
Jameson
Doubt it. When do you return?
Banks
August 3rd.
Jameson
DAMN! That’s a long time.
Banks
Yeah, and I’m supposed to enjoy it. Have fun tonight.
Jameson
You too.
I set my phone on the small table beside me.
As the sun drops low on the horizon and the sand turns gold, all I can think about is how fucking jealous I am.