2. Cora
2
CORA
“ O kay, the last thing we need is…” I scan the list as my best friend, Aspen, rolls her eyes.
“Watermelon,” she says knowingly, and she’s right.
“Fine. Why don’t you go check out and I’ll grab one.”
“Do you want me to wait? They’re heavy.”
“It’s fine , I can totally handle it.”
“Sure thing, boss.” She waves her hand as she wheels the cart toward the front of the market.
“I hate when you do that!” I call after her, but her only response is laughter floating on the breeze that I’m damn thankful for because it’s gonna be a hot one.
Again.
Summers are always hot in South Carolina, but summers in Magnolia Point are something else. Making my way to the produce section, I scour the selection of watermelons, noting size and color and finally settling on the perfect one.
My gaze drifts to the side and…gah! Another perfect melon looking for a home.
I’m almost giddy as I grab the first, doing my best to maneuver it so I can pick up the second. We’ve been selling out of the watermelon sorbet, and I want to make a batch of salsa to change things up. Aspen likes to give me a hard time, but customers love celebrating obscure holidays with us, and National Watermelon Day is no different.
I don’t like being tied down to one menu all the time. Variety is the spice of life, and it is nice to see what works and what doesn’t and to bring back those fan favorites throughout the year.
Our food truck, the Taste of Magnolia, has gained a following in Magnolia Point. The flat black-and-pink paint with white magnolias on it makes it stand out in the heart of the Lowcountry. It also makes my heart ridiculously happy.
Design had never really been my thing, but Aspen listened to my vision for the business and had drawn up the plans. We rotated locations, giving everyone a chance to try out the specials and favorites on any given day. The truck was a dream come true, and I’d worked my ass off with Aspen at my side to make it a reality.
Shuffling to the side, I’m debating how to scoop up the second melon when a shadow falls over me.
A very large shadow.
A very large shadow that smells faintly of motor oil, sunscreen, and pine. The mixture shouldn’t be appealing but it is.
And unfortunately, I know the man that particular mixture of scents belongs to.
My spine straightens as I turn, a watermelon perched on one hip and my hand on the other.
“Nice melon,” Talon says, his eyes drifting down my body and landing on the actual fruit as he hefts the one I was trying to grab. He’s filled out since high school—a lot—with huge muscles and a stupidly chiseled jaw with the perfect amount of stubble and Caribbean-blue eyes.
He’s gorgeous and I still hate him.
“Watermelon with you?!” I screech and then blink as he raises an eyebrow.
“Is that like a new thing all the kids are saying?” he asks, his lips twitching the slightest bit on one side.
And is he teasing me?
I huff as I catch sight of movement behind him, my gaze following the leash in his free hand to the harness secured on a small piglet with black splotches.
Of course, this bear of a man has an adorable little pig on a leash.
Why wouldn’t he?
Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the man I’d sworn to hate since I was seventeen.
“I meant to say what’s the matter with you?” He just stares so I add, “For taking my watermelon.”
“But you said?—”
“I know what I said!” I snap, my cheeks heating with frustration. “You took my watermelon.”
“Looks like you already have one.” Talon motions toward the one under my arm that I have to adjust.
Again.
Damn thing is heavy, and I regret not making Aspen wait with the cart.
Not that I’d ever admit that now.
“I need two watermelons.” I sniff. “Some of us have a reputable business to run.”
His jaw clenches the smallest amount. It’s the only tell that my comment has hit its intended target. When I’d gotten the Taste of Magnolia up and running, I’d made it known that under no circumstances would I be taking my baby to Lowcountry Automotive.
Ever.
Talon Banks could keep his affordable prices at his shop on the outskirts of Magnolia Point, and I’d suck it up and deal with the mechanic on the ritzier side of town. It wasn’t helping my bottom line, but this was one thing I wasn’t willing to waver on.
“Another themed day, hmm?” It comes out as a sneer and I force myself not to cower at his tone or imagine how hot the hate sex would be with him grunting and growling.
“As a matter of fact?—”
“How very”—his gaze rakes over me again, but this time it’s with disdain—“ touristy of you.”
I gasp because he did not just say that. I love the tourists but I am sure as hell not one—despite being gone for several years.
I’ve always considered this little slice of South Carolina heaven to be home.
Talon had been the cherry on top of a shit sundae and the ultimate reason I’d left to move in with my dad.
Taking a step forward, I lower my voice. “You have a lot of nerve…”
“Says the woman who wants to make a dig at my reputable business which has been around a hell of a lot longer than those overpriced finger foods you’re selling.”
I gasp as he steps around me, the pig in tow.
“Get back here with my watermelon!” I snap, but he just sends a wink over his shoulder.
“Can’t, Firecracker. It’s for the pig.”