Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RACHEL
It’s amazing how the longer you do something, the easier it gets.
I am scooping ice cream like it’s an Olympic sport and I’m going for gold, putting together all the various specialty orders without worry or hesitation, when they used to strike fear in me.
I know that sounds silly. I know it’s “just ice cream,” but working at Mitchell’s means we’re hit with an onslaught of tourists every single day.
And the fudge bucket is intimidating as hell.
But now? I’ve got it down. I’ve got pretty much everything down that’s on the dessert menu, and it’s like the moment I feel confident and can do this thing in my sleep, Paige decides to move me to a different position.
“I want you to work the window,” Paige announces the moment we clock in for our shift. She had the entire drive to Mitchell’s to mention it, but did she? That would be a no. “Starting today.”
Oh God, the window. Where everyone places their food order.
Where the lines can get long and the customers get irritated because all the people in this world are impatient and can’t fathom a delicious burger taking longer than five minutes to make.
They want it all and they want it now, and while I can handle the grouchy customers at the ice cream counter, this is something else. What she’s requesting is a big change.
“I don’t know, Paige. Angry customers scare me,” I tell her, fighting the nerves that are buzzing in my stomach like bees. “What about Kelcey? She’d be great in that position.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She has too much attitude.
If a customer complains, then she’ll tell them to kiss her ass.
” Paige rolls her eyes as we walk out together into the dining area, which is mostly empty.
Considering it’s ten a.m., that’s pretty normal, though I spot a couple of the old guys who like to come in every morning for their daily coffee and breakfast burrito.
They’re late today, but there’s a big group of them, so they must be discussing something important.
“You’re good with customers. You know how to lay on the sweetness without being fake. ”
I stand a little taller, taking her words as a compliment. “Why, thank you.”
“You’ll have to learn the menu and how to key everything in. I’ll train you today, but you’ll be shadowing Mila for the rest of the week, and she’s great. Really patient and will answer all of your questions. Then next week, you can be on your own!” Paige beams, obviously pleased with herself.
Next week. She’s referring to the Fourth of July, and oh my God, I’m mildly freaking out. “It’s the holiday next week.”
“You can handle it.”
“You’re going to throw me to the wolves during the busiest holiday of the year at Mitchell’s. And the wolves I’m referring to are the customers.”
“They’re absolutely feral, especially during the Fourth,” Kelcey calls out as she walks by us.
Paige sends her a mean look. “I don’t need your interjections today, Kelce!”
“Sorry, babe.” Kelcey flips her ponytail with a flick of her fingers and heads outside, the old—and very quaint—screened door slamming behind her with a loud bang.
“I see what you mean,” I tell Paige once Kelcey is gone. “But I can’t lie to you, Paige. I’m terrified.”
“Oh, come on. You’re going to be fine. You can do hard things, remember?” She offers me one of those brain-blistering smiles of hers. The ones that can make even the hardest, crankiest old man melt. It works on pretty much everyone, including me.
A sigh leaves me, and I give in, just like she wants. “Fine. But you’re not leaving my side today.”
“Not a problem, babe.” She salutes me, and I sort of want to kick her. It doesn’t help that I’m hungover from last night. Still in a haze, thanks to Wyatt’s perfectly persuasive mouth.
Ughhhh, the man can kiss like no other, and while I wouldn’t consider myself overly experienced, I’ve kissed more than a few men in my time. Most of them were decent. Only a couple were terrible at it, but we were young when it happened—middle school—so I don’t hold it against them.
The moment that Wyatt’s mouth touches mine?
All logical thought leaks from my brain.
I can’t focus, can’t think. Can only feel.
The smooth, soft texture of his lips. The humming sounds he makes low in his throat when he deepens the kiss.
His fingers and how they thread through my hair, gripping it tight, but never tight enough that it hurts.
He is forceful. Commanding. Like he knows what he wants and doesn’t hesitate to go after it.
Edmund Davies is the oldest man I’ve dated, and he’s twenty-four.
Meaning Wyatt has almost a full five years on him.
Five more years of life and maturity and confidence.
And he’s lived such a different life compared to mine.
I don’t know much about him, but I want to learn more.
Spend time with him, as much as possible before I . . .
Leave.
I watch Paige move around the dining area, pausing to talk with the older gentlemen sitting at one of our larger tables.
She focuses her entire being on them, smiling and nodding, laughing when they probably tell her some silly joke, as they’re prone to do.
They’re always joking, having a good time, making sure they get the local discount, as if we could forget they’re from the area.
They’re in Mitchell’s pretty much every single day.
I’m going to miss them. I’ll miss Paige and Kelcey and Tara.
The guys in the kitchen. The ladies who do paddleboard yoga out on the lake three times a week at, like, seven in the morning and come inside afterward to eat their acai bowls and gossip.
I love meeting the families who’ve come to Foxglove Bay every summer for years, nodding along with them when they tell me how magical they think the lake is.
What great memories they have from when they were kids, and now they bring their own families.
Carrying on the tradition, which hits me right in the feels.
This place was magical for me too when I was a kid, something my parents can’t seem to comprehend. Every time we came for the summer, it felt like I was visiting a foreign land. I love it here.
I don’t want to leave.
“Help me set up outside,” Paige suggests as she walks past me, and I follow her outdoors to the patio area, where the umbrellas above the tables are tightly closed.
I go to one and start cranking it open while she goes to the table next to mine and does the same thing, her voice casual when she asks, “Have you heard from Wyatt yet?”
“What?” I jerk too hard on the crank and nearly take it off its hinges. “No. Um, he hasn’t reached out.”
But it was only last night. Or very early this morning.
Nate drove Wyatt’s SUV and took us to Paige’s condo, and I squeezed Wyatt’s hand before I climbed out of the car.
He didn’t try to kiss me good night, and I told myself that was okay.
Maybe he wasn’t comfortable kissing me in front of his brother and Paige. I get it.
I suppose.
“Oh.” That’s all Paige says. A cryptic oh that has my senses kicking into overdrive: She must know something I don’t. Oh God. Is it something bad? Edmund-is-fucking-another-woman bad?
“What do you mean by that?” I finish opening the umbrella, watching her with a narrowed gaze.
She practically trips over one of the chairs, her face going red. “What are you talking about?”
“The way you said ‘oh.’ Like you know something I don’t.” I approach her, needing to get this out in the open before I lose my mind. “Is he with someone else? Did you find out he has a secret girlfriend? Just tell me.”
“What? No! Wyatt hasn’t been with anyone in years. At least, not that I know of. It’s just . . .” She nibbles on her lower lip, looking guilty. “He texted me. Just now.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t read his text yet.” She hesitates. “Did he text you?”
I yank my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and check, but I already know the answer. No texts from anyone, and definitely not from Wyatt. “Nope.”
“Maybe it’s about Nate.” She checks her phone and opens her messages app, her brows drawing together as she reads whatever it is he wrote her. While I’m standing here trying not to freak out, hopping from one foot to the other, hating how quiet she is.
“He wants me to babysit Dottie for him. Remember when I offered?” When I nod, Paige continues. “His parents are going on a cruise, and he needs someone to watch her for a couple of nights.”
“Are you going to do it?” I refuse to be jealous over him asking Paige to help out.
He’s known her for years, and I’m mostly a stranger.
He trusts her with his daughter far more than me, and I get it.
Plus, Paige offered to watch her, said she owed him, and he took her up on it. I think that’s sweet. I just love it.
I can feel the sarcasm in my thoughts, and I tell myself I need to get over it.
“He asked if we could do it together.” Paige lifts her head, her bright bluish-greenish eyes meeting mine. “If we need to. He said he understood we have our schedules to deal with, but he’d also pay us.”
“He should not pay us.”
“Oh, he’s definitely paying us. I need the money, remember?”
If I still had access to my bank accounts and the credit cards funded by my father, I would give Paige enough money to pay off her debt because I hate how stressed-out she is over it. She always has to think about money and where it’s coming from, and I can see how much that affects her.
“When does he need your help?”
“Our help,” Paige stresses. “And he needs it for a week immediately after the Fourth. His sister is watching Dottie, and supposedly so is Nate? Oh God. I can’t imagine him taking care of Dottie. He doesn’t have pets because he’s afraid he’ll forget to feed them.”
At least he doesn’t need us right now. We probably couldn’t do it over the holiday period—we’ll be way too busy here, and Paige has been slammed at her job at the resort too. “Why did he text you and not me?”
“He said it’s because he doesn’t have your number. Because I literally just asked him that.” Paige smiles, looking pleased with herself. “I gave it to him.”
I stand at attention. “You did?”
“Yes, so tell me the second he texts you, especially if it’s something dirty.”
I burst out laughing. “Wyatt McKinney doesn’t send dirty texts.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Paige reminds me, and I sober right up.
She’s right. I don’t. But I’d sort of love it if he did.