Chapter 5
The fried shrimp basket I order is greasy and perfect, with ice cold tea so sweet it makes my jaw hurt but I can’t suck it down fast enough. Zach gets the fried flounder, and we share hush puppies that are so good they make me want to forgive him for being my competition at the auction.
Almost.
“So,” I say around a bite of coleslaw, “is this your tactic with all your rivals? Feed them fried food so they’re too sluggish to bid against you?”
He grins, a little crinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. “You caught me. I owe all my success to cholesterol. Pretty much all of my competitors are dead now.”
I laugh, and it’s easy. Too easy.
We trade stories—me about my sister who thinks I’ve lost my mind moving here, but understands why I wanted to get away from Michael; and him about a bathroom renovation gone horribly wrong in Southport.
I wonder if he’s trying to be a cautionary tale, but then he comes right out and tells me that he isn’t.
For entire stretches of time, I almost forget we’re about to be on opposite sides of an auction in a few days.
When we get back to the duplex, neither of us seems ready to call it a day.
He suggests a walk on the beach, and I surprise myself by saying yes.
The late afternoon light makes our shadows long.
I kick off my flip-flops, tucking them in one hand, and let the tide rush over my feet.
Zach walks beside me, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, silent for a while.
It’s a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind I haven’t had with a man in… years, maybe.
Eventually, I ask, “So. You mentioned your daughter this morning.”
His face shifts—he doesn’t close off, exactly, but there’s a weight that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Brooke.”
“Freshman? Wilmington?”
“Yep.” He sighs, looking out at the water. “She’s a big part of why I moved down here.”
“You said she’s blowing you off.”
“Yep.”
He doesn’t offer more, but I have a need to push. Just a little. “Care to share?”
He shrugs. “Oh, you know. The usual. Doesn’t reply to my texts for days. When she does get back to me, I don’t get much. Everything is fine. School is fine. Her friends are fine. That’s it.”
I remember so much what it was like to be eighteen and on my own for the first time. “I didn’t really want to talk to my parents at that age, either. All I wanted was freedom.”
He nods, looking down at his feet while we walk. “And here I am, asking her to pay attention to me.”
I reach for his arm. I can’t help it. He’s solid beneath my touch, and if I had to pick a word to describe Zach, it would be exactly that—solid.
Not like he goes to the gym a lot, although he probably does.
More like he seems like he’d be there for you if you needed something.
“Let’s look at this from the point of view of a college freshman. ”
“A college freshman who happens to be a young woman. Not my area of expertise.”
“Luckily for you, I was one. And let me just tell you that I went out of my way to keep my parents at a distance when I was her age.”
He stops and faces me. “This would have been good information a few months ago.” Even though his words are heavy and I note some sadness in his voice, he ends with half a smile.
“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have gotten to go out for fried seafood with me today.”
“I wouldn’t get to be your biggest rival for the big blue house.”
Right. There’s still that hanging over our heads. “Have you asked her what she wants?” I ask gently.
“I try. She shuts me down.” He kicks at a seashell, sending it skittering across the sand. “Maybe she just doesn’t want me around.”
“That’s not it.” I shake my head, more certain than I expect to be. “She’s trying to figure out who she is, where she fits. Sometimes kids push away from the people they’re most sure of, because it’s safe to.”
He looks at me then, eyes searching mine. “Safe?”
“To know you’ll still be there,” I say. “Even if she ignores your texts. Even if she cancels plans. You’re steady. That’s what she’s testing.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, just walks beside me, the waves pulling at our ankles. Then he exhales. “I want her to know I’m here. That I care.”
“Then tell her that. Plain and simple. Don’t make her guess.”
His smile is small, but real. “You’re good at this.”
“Not really. I just… I know what it feels like when someone you care about doesn’t make things clear.
” My history with Michael flashes in my mind—his endless evasions, the way I’d spent years second-guessing my own needs and how they never matched what he wanted.
I clear my throat. “Anyway. Brooke’s lucky to have a dad who cares. ”
He studies me for a moment longer, and I can feel the air change—heavier, charged. I look back out at the horizon before I do something stupid, like fall into those green eyes of his.
By the time we circle back to the duplex, the sky is shifting toward sunset. Pink and orange streaks fan across the clouds. We take the dune path, then up the porch steps, and we pause between our two doors, neither of us making a move to go inside.
“It’s been a good day,” he says.
“It has. Thank you.” My voice comes out softer than I intend.
He’s standing close enough now that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the salt-and-sun lightness in his hair.
And for one dizzy second, the thought crashes into me: I could kiss him right now.
The idea takes root. I imagine leaning forward, the heat of his skin, the salt air on our lips.
I haven’t been kissed—I mean really kissed—in what feels like forever.
It’s a fucking shame. Kissing has always been my favorite part.
Hello. Earth to Jodie. Reality elbows in—he’s my neighbor. My competition. And if I blur those lines, even a little, this year could get a whole lot messier than I bargained for. The very, very last thing I need is messy. I just walked away from a lifetime of it.
So I smile, reaching for my door. “Well, think about what we talked about with Brooke. I’m sure it’ll work out.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Goodnight, Zach.”
His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than necessary. It’s like he can peer right into my brain. Does he know how many irrational, horny thoughts have been running through my head? “Goodnight, Jodie.”
I duck inside, closing the door behind me. My heart is racing. My pulse is pounding in my ears. It feels like I actually did kiss him. That really doesn’t seem fair. If I’m going to feel riled up, I’d like to actually get riled up.
Or maybe it’s just my body trying to tell me that it’s probably going to happen next time.