4. Four
Four
Luke
The evening air is heavy with salt and humidity as I settle into one of the Adirondack chairs on my back deck. The sun setting over the Atlantic paints everything in shades of pink and gold. Right on cue, I hear Lila’s screen door slide open.
“Long day?” I ask as she emerges with two glasses of iced tea. This has become our routine over the past couple of weeks—watching the sunset together, talking about everything and nothing.
The back deck is quickly becoming my favorite place to end the day, and I’m starting to think it has less to do with the view and more to do with the company .
Lila settles into the chair next to mine, resting her bare feet on the railing and sipping her iced tea from a mason jar. She’s a bundle of contradictions—soft-spoken but sharp-witted, laid-back but with a fire in her that I can’t quite figure out. She’s been sending out nothing but friendly vibes ever since Crystal showed up unannounced that first night, but that doesn’t make her any less captivating.
I remind myself to keep things in check, to honor the boundaries she’s set. I get it—she’s new to town and focused on getting her business off the ground. And after meeting Crystal, she’s probably guessed that I’m tangled up in something I’m not ready to explain. I should be grateful she’s keeping her distance. It makes my life less complicated.
But damn, it’s not easy.
Especially when she looks like she does now—all soft curves and barefoot in cutoff shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair piled messily on top of her head. Yep, it’s damn hard.
“The morning rush at Beach Bites was crazy,” she confides, “But I sold out of my lemon scones by ten.”
I take a sip, wondering how she manages to make even basic iced tea taste better than anyone else’s. “Sounds like Jacksonville is starting to discover your talents. ”
She shrugs, but I catch the pleased smile she tries to hide. “It’s not much different from the bakery back home. Though the customers here are a bit more... particular.”
“Particular?”
“Today someone ordered a gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free birthday cake that still had to taste ‘indulgent.’” She uses air quotes, making me laugh. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
“You will,” I say, completely confident in her abilities. “I’ve never met anyone who understands food like you do.”
A light blush colors her cheeks, and she quickly changes the subject. “How was your day? I heard you working on something new this morning.”
“Just playing around with some chord progressions.” I stretch my legs out, deliberately keeping my tone casual and strictly friendly.
“It sounded beautiful,” she says softly. “I love hearing you play while I’m cooking. It’s like having my own personal soundtrack.”
The thought of my music being part of her daily routine does something to my chest that I try to ignore. “Speaking of soundtracks, that death rattle your car made this morning when you left for work? Not normal.”
She rolls her eyes. “Agatha’s fine. She’s just quite particular.”
“Particular seems to be the word of the day.” I take another sip of tea. “But seriously, let me take a look at her. I’m pretty good with engines.”
“You work on cars?” She looks genuinely surprised.
“When I’m not making music or eating your leftovers? Yeah. It relaxes me.” I grin at her. “I work on my jeep all the time.”
She laughs at that, a real, full-bodied laugh that makes my grin widen just hearing it.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, leaning back in my chair, one foot resting on the deck rail.
“You mean the one without doors?” She laughs. “At least mine has all its parts.”
“We live on the beach! Doors are optional.” I gesture to the ocean view. “Besides, your car shakes like it’s about to transform into a robot. ”
Lila waves a hand, still laughing. “Just thinking about how you’re worried about my car when you drive around in that new-fangled contraption. You’ve got some nerve, Sterling.”
“Hey, leave the Jeep out of this,” I say, pointing at her with mock seriousness. “She’s a fine-tuned machine.”
Lila gives me a thoughtful glance. “I’m surprised you don’t drive something sleeker like a Mercedes or Ferarri. Something more in tune with your rockstar image.”
“Nope. Not for me. I like driving my Jeep—she’s perfect.”
“She’s a show-off,” Lila shoots back, smirking.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I keep the jeep in top running form. You should try it with Agatha.”
She groans, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “I should’ve never told you her name.”
“Oh no, I love it,” I say, grinning. “Agatha. Sounds like the name of someone who drinks hot tea and tells kids to get off her lawn.”
“She’s reliable,” Lila says, sitting up straighter, mock-defensive. “Maybe a little cranky, but she gets me where I need to go.”
“Does she, though?” I ask with a grimace. “Because I’m pretty sure she was begging for mercy the last time you turned her off.”
Lila tosses a crumpled napkin at me, and I catch it midair, laughing. “I’m serious,” I say, leaning forward. “You should let me take a look at her. I know my way around an engine.”
“Really?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a musician and a mechanic? Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Cook,” I say, deadpan. “Which is why I’m glad I know a talented chef.”
She laughs again, shaking her head. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
“Fair enough.” I watch as she tucks her legs under her, getting comfortable in her chair. She’s so different from the shy girl who could barely meet my eyes when we first met. Now, she’s relaxed and confident—at least when she’s not overthinking things.
“My dad taught me about cars,” I tell her, not sure why I’m sharing this, but I want to keep the conversation going. “He said if I was going to tour with the band, I needed to know how to fix things myself. ”
“Smart man.” She takes another sip of her tea. “My grandma taught me to cook. She said every farmer should know how to feed themselves.”
“Is that why you became a chef?”
She nods her head, smiling. “Yes. My grandmother could make anything taste amazing, even with the simplest ingredients. I used to spend hours beside her in the kitchen, learning all her secrets.”
The way her face lights up when she talks about cooking reminds me of how I feel about music. It’s not just what we do—it’s part of who we are.
“And now you’re here, making Jacksonville a more delicious place one scone at a time.”
“Stop,” she laughs, but I can tell she’s pleased. “What about you? Have you always wanted to be a rockstar?”
“Honestly? I just wanted to play music. The rockstar part kind of happened by accident.” I lean back in my chair. “Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life.”
She nods, understanding. “That’s how I feel every morning when I wake up and realize I’m actually doing what I love for a living. Even if right now it’s just at a bakery.”
“Hey, everyone starts somewhere. One of the band’s first gigs was at a bowling alley.”
“No way!”
“It’s the truth. There was a mix-up, and we couldn’t back out. Cass knocked over three pins during our final song. It was very rock and roll.”
Her laughter carries across the deck, and I find myself watching how her whole face lights up, how her curves shake slightly with each giggle. When she catches me looking, I quickly glance away.
After her laughter, we fall into a comfortable silence that doesn’t need to be filled. That’s one of the things I like about Lila—she’s easy to be around. No pretenses, no trying too hard. Just herself.
After a while, I ask, “So, do you like working at the bakery despite the particular customers?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice softening. “Not what I want to be doing long-term, but it’s a start. Plus, it’s been great for meeting people. I’ve had a few inquiries about private chef stuff already. ”
“That’s good,” I say, meaning it. “You’ve got the talent, Lila. People are going to figure that out fast.”
Her cheeks flush a little, and she looks down at her drink, swirling the ice. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “That means a lot.”
“It’s just the truth,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve had your cooking, remember?”
That earns me another smile, and I tuck the moment away, glad I could bring it out of her.
She tilts her head, looking at me. “What about you? When you’re not playing rockstar, what do you do?”
I grin. “What, the Jeep isn’t enough of a hobby?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I tinker,” I say, shrugging. “Guitars, cars, whatever’s lying around. Keeps me busy when I’m not on the road.”
“Tinkering,” she repeats with a grin. “That’s very... rustic of you.”
“You say rustic, I say practical,” I counter. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not baking or defending Agatha’s honor?”
“Lately? Not much,” she says, her smile fading a little. “Getting my business off the ground has taken over my life. But I like to read when I get the chance. Or watch a cheesy rom-com. The cheesier, the better.”
“Rom-coms?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“ All of them, “ she says, her grin returning. “Bonus points if it’s a Hallmark Holiday movie.”
“Holiday movies in April?” I tease, shaking my head.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she says, pointing her glass at me. “Sometimes you need a little Christmas in July—or April.”
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. “You’re something else, Country.”
She looks at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sterling.”
The words are casual, but they land heavier than I expected. The air between us shifts for a second, and I feel the pull I’ve been trying to ignore since the night we met. But just as quickly as it happens, it’s gone, and she’s looking out at the ocean, the breeze catching a loose strand of her hair .
I take a long sip of my iced tea, trying to remind myself why keeping things friendly is the right call. Lila’s got enough on her plate without me adding to it. And besides, she’s been clear about where we stand for now.
Even so, it’s hard to ignore the way she fits so easily into my life, the way her laughter feels like a song I want to keep playing on repeat. I remind myself: just friends.
But damn, if being just friends with Lila isn’t becoming one of the hardest things I’ve done.
I shift in my chair, trying to focus on the sunset instead of how the fading light makes her skin glow.
“Oh!” She suddenly sits up straighter. “I almost forgot to tell you—Emily thinks she may have got me my first real private chef booking. Possibly a small corporate dinner next week.”
“That’s great!” I say, genuinely excited for her. “How many people?”
“Nine. It’s not huge, but it’s a start.” She bites her lip, and I can see a mix of excitement and nervousness in her expression. “I’m thinking of doing a Mediterranean theme. Maybe start with some mezze platters, then move to—“
She stops abruptly, blushing. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Don’ t apologize. I like hearing you talk about food.” And I do. The way her hands move when she describes a dish and her eyes light up when she’s planning a menu—it’s fascinating.
“Well, in that case...” She launches into her planned menu, and I find myself leaning closer, drawn in by her enthusiasm.
The sun has almost completely set when my phone chimes with a text. I glance down at it, but seeing it’s Crystal, I choose to ignore it.
Lila stands up, gathering our empty glasses. “I should go. Early morning tomorrow. ”
“Right, those scones won’t bake themselves.” I stand, too. “Want me to look at Agatha this weekend?”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay, but only if you let me cook you dinner as payment.”
“Deal.”
As she heads back to her side of the duplex, I catch myself watching the sway of her hips in those cutoff shorts. Just friends, I remind myself firmly. But then she turns back, catching me looking, and instead of her usual blush and quick look away, she holds my gaze for a moment.
“Goodnight, Luke,” she says softly.
“Goodnight, Lila.”
I stay on the deck long after she’s gone, listening to the sounds of her moving around her kitchen, probably preparing for tomorrow’s baking. The familiar domestic noises mix with the ocean waves, creating a kind of peace that settles deep within me.
Just friends, I think again. But even I don’t believe it anymore.