Chapter 4
Drew and I made our way into the lobby to find a couple of new arrivals.
Millie, the corgi from next door, was happily sniffing Casey’s butt.
Meanwhile, her pet parent, Garth Witherspoon-Baldwin, was sprawled in the wing chair I’d vacated, opposite Xander.
Garth was tugging at a hunk of his curly, sand-colored hair, his intelligent brown eyes intent on the other man.
It looked like Garth was also trying to sniff something out.
“Garth,” I said cautiously. “I guess you’ve met Xander?”
“I have,” said Garth. “He’s just been raving about the coffee?
” He shot a questioning look between me and Drew, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the sharp Manhattan ADA he must have been before he left New York City and the law to open the bakery here at the Jersey Shore.
He was a few years older than Drew and me, in his early thirties.
Initially, the handsome ex-attorney had hired my best friend to design his website, but one thing had quickly led to another.
Soon, he and Drew were partners, both in business and in life.
“Come with me, babe,” said Drew. He put everything he was carrying down on the front desk and motioned back to the kitchen with his head. “I’ll get you a cup.”
I figured that had to be married-people code for “Let’s go into the other room and I’ll fill you in,” but I didn’t protest. Garth was my good friend now too. And with his level-headed, lawyerly personality, he was less likely to jump to conclusions about Xander.
Garth and Drew disappeared into the kitchen. Millie and Casey settled and snuggled together contentedly, sharing Casey’s bed. I placed the cake stand down and smiled at Xander. “Would you like to try some monkey bread?” I asked.
Xander looked at me uncertainly. “Monkey bread?”
This time, I took his confusion in stride.
After all, there were plenty of native English speakers—and plenty of people without head injuries—who weren’t familiar with the oddly named sticky-sweet treat.
But before I could assure him that no actual monkeys were injured in the making of the pull-apart bread, the front door opened again.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” said Rita, although her voice was barely audible over the screaming pink-snowsuited bundle she carried in her arms. She closed the door behind her and slumped against it. “Mavis is teething.”
“Here, I’ve got her,” I said, crossing over to hold the baby for her. “Take off your coat.”
The handoff to me made Mavis even less happy. I propped the infant up on my hip and bounced her a little, trying to soothe her while Rita shrugged off her diaper bag backpack and unzipped her down jacket.
Xander came up next to me and gave the baby’s foot a little squeeze. “You have the tiniest legs I’ve ever seen,” he told her.
Mavis looked at him. And immediately stopped crying.
“Huh,” said Rita, surveying Xander as she hung up her jacket. “She likes you.”
“I like her too,” he said, smiling his smile at Mavis.
“Rita,” I said, “this is Xander.” I paused before deciding to just go with Joey D’s assumption. “He’s my guest.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. He was my guest, though not a paying one. And after Drew’s reaction, I was gun-shy about sharing the whole truth again.
Rita Robinson’s gaze ping-ponged between Xander and me, and I could tell she was wondering if he was just a guest or perhaps a guest with benefits.
“Rita owns Shelf Love, the bookstore across the street,” I said before she could start asking embarrassing questions. “And Xander—um, well…” Faltering, I shot him an inquiring look. “Actually, I don’t know what Xander does for a living.”
“This and that,” he replied with a shrug.
“Well,” said Rita, taking Mavis again, “if ‘this and that’ includes babysitting, send me your references. Darnell is back out at sea, and this solo parenting thing is exhausting.”
I hadn’t noticed before she’d said so, but Rita did look exhausted.
She was the same age as Drew and me—the two of us had met her in high school—but today she appeared older.
Her normally bright eyes were dull, the skin around them puffy.
Her dark complexion looked ashy, and her face was drawn.
Her long braids were done up in her usual topknot, but it listed to one side, as if even her hair was tired.
“Out at sea?” asked Xander.
“Rita’s husband is a SEAL,” I explained.
“A seal?” Xander asked. He wrinkled his brow and looked closer at Mavis. “Your daddy’s a seal? How is that even possible?”
Mavis laughed, still thoroughly taken with Xander. But I couldn’t tell if he was just kidding around with the baby or if this was yet another kink in our line of communication.
“Darnell’s a Navy SEAL,” I clarified, just in case. “Sea, Air, and Land Team. He’s on active duty.”
“And I’m on Mavis duty,” said Rita.
Mavis looked at her mother. And promptly started to wail once again.
* * *
While everyone was mingling and chatting, I peered around the lobby, counting heads.
In addition to Drew, Garth, and Rita, Wills Allen had joined us.
He was a bear of a thirty-something British ex-pat who owned a wineshop and tasting room called Sips.
Miles Frankel and Angie Romano were here too.
The fifty-something couple ran a combination deli-pizzeria.
Back when they got married, as a symbol of blending their lives and their cultures, they created a special entrée using her family recipe for lasagna and his family recipe for brisket.
The dish was a hit, and it became the inspiration for their business, appropriately named Matzo-Rella.
Now, Miles was wearing his Matzo-Rella T-shirt with khakis and sneakers, while Angie had paired hers with leopard-print leggings and high-heeled booties. But we were still waiting for—
The door flung open, and the final member of what we informally called the Atlantic Avenue Block Association stomped in, making quite the entrance.
“Where is he?” demanded Paulette Papadopoulos, the tiny but mighty proprietor of Boost, which specialized in power shakes. She slammed the door behind her with surprising force—a testament, perhaps, to the efficacy of her smoothies.
The room fell silent. Even the baby.
Xander gaped at Paulette. The rest of us all turned to Wills.
“Hello, love,” called Wills in his unflappable British way.
“You!” Paulette marched over to her perennially on-again-off-again beau and stared up at him. Way up, as he was a good head and shoulders taller. “My sister says she saw you drinking last night. With another woman.”
“Oh, yes,” said Wills. He was as calm as she was agitated. “We had a jolly time.”
Her mouth dropped and her eyes popped. It looked like over-the-top acting, but it was 100 percent authentic Paulette. She loved to bring the draaaahmaaaah. “You admit it?”
“Of course,” he said. “Lovely lady. She’s throwing a big to-do for her parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary, and she was sampling bubbly for the toast. Bought several cases of a nice sparkling wine from California.”
We all held our breath and watched—Xander included—as Paulette worked out that her meddling sister might have withheld a few key details.
One…
Two…
Thr—
“I’m sooo sooo sooorry,” she wailed, throwing her arms around Wills.
“There, there, love,” he said, patting her gently on the back. As usual, he seemed to have no clue what she was “sooo sooo sooorry” about.
“I should never listen to anything my sister says,” Paulette said into his chest.
“Okay,” I announced, now that the show was over. “Who else wants coffee?”
* * *
Once everyone had coffee—or, in Wills’s case, tea—we all got settled on the conversation grouping of overstuffed sofas and chairs that took up most of the Sunny Side’s lobby.
The monkey bread—or what was left of it—was on the coffee table in the middle, and Angie was making a big production of trying to pull off a piece without her long, pink claws getting in the way.
When she finally managed the task, one of her colorful press-on nails remained behind, stuck in the pastry.
“Ugh! These nails are gonna be the death of me,” she said. “But what can I say? I gotta look good for my Miles.”
“You always look good, sugar,” said Miles. He gallantly plucked off the piece with Angie’s nail sticking out of it and added it to his wife’s dessert plate.
“Thanks, hon,” she said to him. She yanked the wayward nail out of the monkey bread and pressed it back on her finger. “You know, Garth, this glaze might stick better than my nail glue.” She licked her finger. “Tastes better too.”
Garth laughed good-naturedly. Because we were used to Angie’s manicure malfunctions—and because Garth’s monkey bread really was that good—none of us was dissuaded from continuing to dig in.
Xander was the only one still standing, hovering back over by the fireplace, leaning against one of the wing chairs while Mavis slept peacefully in his arms. The teething infant, it seemed, was absolutely besotted with him.
Long after my traveling gaze fell on Xander, I found my eyes lingering there.
I couldn’t help thinking how sexy he looked, holding the baby like that.
Although, honestly, the guy was so attractive he would have looked sexy doing just about anything.
Involuntarily, my mind started to wander, imagining Xander doing all sorts of different things… with me…naked…
I caught myself.
Okay. Maybe Mavis wasn’t the only one around here who was besotted.
With a subtle shake, I pried my eyes away from Xander and focused back on the gathering of neighborhood merchants. “So, should we get started?” I asked.
“Do we have an agenda?” asked Wills.
“Do we ever have an agenda?” asked Drew.
“Well, we could start with the old business,” I suggested. “Last time, Garth, you said you’d heard about a property developer poking around the neighborhood, asking lots of questions.”
“Bastards,” said Paulette from her perch on Wills’s lap.
“Yeah,” said Rita with a frown. “Big developers are never good for small businesses. At best, it means competition. At worst…” She grimaced and sliced her index finger across her throat.
“Well, has anybody besides Garth heard anything?” I asked. “Has anyone been approached?”
There were head shakes, shrugs, and denials all around.
“So, Hannah, maybe we should discuss the new business,” said Angie, jostling Miles on the love seat next to her as she shot a meaningful look over at Xander.
I felt the heat of a blush creep up my neck and flood my cheeks.
But if Xander picked up on Angie’s implication—or my reaction—he didn’t let on.
Rita, on the other hand, was all over it. “Xander, why don’t you come over and join us?” she said, flashing me a mischievous grin. Sitting to my left on the sofa, Rita scooted closer to the arm and patted the spot on the cushion between us. “Plenty of room right here.”
After everyone else echoed the invitation, Xander smiled and nodded and ambled over with the baby. I tried to shift a little closer to Garth, who sat on my right.
Careful not to disturb Mavis, Xander lowered himself slowly onto the couch beside me.
FYI, despite Rita’s assertion, there was not plenty of room.
Xander’s arm brushed mine, and the unexpected contact sent a jolt through my body like an electrical current. I would have sworn my heart skipped a beat.
Then, Xander was sitting next to me. Right next to me. I felt the warm press of his thigh against my thigh. His hip against my hip. And suddenly, it was as if my whole body was on fire.
I squirmed a little in my seat, but the friction just made my predicament worse. What the hell was my problem?
“So, um…new business, anyone?” I somehow managed to croak out.
* * *
“What do you think, Han?” asked Drew.
At first, I didn’t realize my friend was talking to me. I was trying to pay attention to our meeting, but I was distracted by the proximity of Xander, by the scent of the sand and the surf that still clung to his skin, by the gentle rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed, by the—
“Hannah Banana?”
I blinked and looked over at my bestie. “Sorry, what?”
Drew grinned at me like he knew exactly where my head was, and I wanted to smack him. Mostly because I was pretty sure he did know exactly where my head was. “Are you on board for the May Block Party Weekend?” he asked.
“First weekend in May,” Garth added helpfully.
I frowned. “Beginning of May?” I asked, counting the weeks in my head. I was already worried about getting the Sunny Side in tip-top shape in time for Memorial Day weekend. At the end of May. “That’s…soon.”
“Never too soon to drum up a little business,” said Miles. “Kick off the season early.”
“Hear, hear,” said Wills.
“No, I get it,” I said. “It’s just, well…this place needs quite a few repairs,” I confessed. “And I’m not sure I’ll be able to get them all done in time to do an open house or anything.” Not to mention, I had no idea where I was going to find the money to pay for those repairs.
“The floorboards out front would be an easy fix,” offered Xander. “You’d just need to replace the rotting ones.”
I turned to him in surprise. “You know about that sort of thing?”
He shrugged, causing Mavis to let out a little sigh and snuggle closer against him.
“It looks like you’ve just got some fungus out there that’s causing a few of the boards to rot,” said Xander.
“I’ve seen the same problem in some of the piers and docks out over the ocean.
It’s because there’s so much moisture in the air.
Moisture and wood don’t always mix very well. ”
Now, everyone was looking at Xander.
“So, are you some kind of a contractor then?” asked Drew, leaning forward in his chair. “Or a handyman?”
Xander smiled. “I always try to be handy and help out where I can.”
But I was way ahead of Drew. Mentally, I was already reviewing the Sunny Side’s to-do list, thinking about what other problems needed to be addressed around here. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about plumbing?” I asked Xander. “Or fixing other kinds of leaks, would you?”
That captivating smile of his got even bigger. “Actually, water is my area of expertise.”
If I were an emoji, I would have been looking at him with heart eyes. While I couldn’t afford the services of a well-established contractor, maybe—just maybe—I could find a way to afford Xander.