Page 50 of Second Tide's the Charm
The crickets start up, and I can hear the hum of engines from the nearby highway. “No disrespect,” he says. “What I’m wondering, is who she is to you.”
“Our summer research assistant,” I tell him, sticking to the line we agreed upon, even though my lips tingle at the memory of her mouth on mine, the rush of desire it’s prudent we deny. “And I know the hug was a mistake.”
“A mutual mistake?” His tone is mild, but his shoulders are set. It occurs to me that this conversation isn’t entirely for my benefit, and I’m as pleased by his concern for her as I am chagrined at my behavior. Without all the details, I can see how it might look fishy. Even with all the details, it still feels complicated as hell.
I have to give him something, though, or else he might bring it up with Hope, and that’s the last thing she’d want. “We hung out the other day, after we shot the video. Talked.” A few diners make their way down the path, and we step aside to let them by. “Reminisced, I guess. I think the nostalgia bled into today, and we got carried away.”
He nods, accepting this. “Gottta be honest, I worry about the two of you. This has to be tough. Five years together and you never mentioned her to me.” I never told him how long we dated either, so I’m guessing Marissa filled him in. “There’s got to be a story there.”
“We had plans to move in together, she changed her mind.” I shrug, hoping he’ll be satisfied with that.
“After five years?”
“Plans change. People change.”
“But she’s single, after all this time—”
“Gabe.” I cut him a look. “Can we eat? I’m starving.”
Arms crossed, he regards me for a long moment before letting me by. I waste no time moving past him, up the steps and into the restaurant, the spring-hinged screen door banging shut behind us. The place is packed. I’m in no mood for crowds, but this is our usual spot. Good food, great service, and the owner is a family friend.
Sure enough, I spot Rhonda by the bar, her gray hair cut in a short bob. She locks eyes with me, smiling, and is already halfway around the bar by the time I thread my way through the maze of tables.
“Give me a hug, mister!”
She wraps me in a tight embrace, and the weight on my shoulders eases. Rhonda’s basically family. She and Mom were roommates in college and remained close friends. We even vacationed a couple times with her family back when I was a kid. After her divorce, Rhonda decided to quit her job in law to buy this place.
She pulls away and throws a stained towel over her shoulder, rosy cheeks flushed. “Why didn’t your mother tell me Hope was back?” I glance toward the table where Marissa’s seated with the other scientists, but Hope’s nowhere to be seen.
Rhonda follows my gaze. “She went to the bathroom, but ah—” she reaches out a hand, beckoning someone behind me “—here she comes now.”
Hope appears by my side, wearing a flowy printed sundress with buttons down the front, jostling against me as someone steps up to the bar in the crowded space. Rhonda gets pulled away to help clean up a spill at a high-top table behind us, but in the chaos, another group wedges us in, trying to get the bartender’s attention. We’re stuck together for the moment, crushed between the other patrons.
“You’re late,” Hope says, rising on tiptoe so I can hear her. The buttons on the front of her dress press into my arm, and I don’t dare look down. “The others are about to leave. They’ve got a long drive.”
Guilty, I glance toward the table again and see she’s right. Liam is shaking Marissa’s hand, and Sylvia rises, her jacket over one arm. Never should’ve let my personal life interfere with a work dinner. “My bad. Gabe and I got caught up talking.”
Her eyes flash to my face. She’s so close that I can make out the tiny flecks of amber in her eyes, her usually-bare lashes darkened with mascara. “About what?” Concern knits her wide brow.
“He was worried about, well—”
“Us?” Hope’s mouth turns downward in a frown. “He saw?”
I shake my head, but before I can explain, Rhonda appears from behind the bar.
“I sure saw,” she says with a wink, and my heartbeat accelerates to a dangerous pace. “I watch every one of Adrian’s videos.” My pulse returns to normal as I realize what she meant. She points at us with the bar towel in her hand. “You better not disappoint with the baby shark content you promised.”
I open my mouth, but Rhonda’s not done. She turns toward Hope, leaning in to speak over the noise. “Now, before I get pulled away again, what do you think of the transformation?”
“Transformation?” Hope gives the room a puzzled once-over and I can tell what she’s thinking. This place looks the same as always. Cane-backed chairs flank circular tables of knotty pine. The bar is held up by glossy white tongue-and-groove boards and the barstools could use a reupholstering. The overall feel is more homey than trendy, but unfortunately, Rhonda’s not talking about the décor.
“I have your ex-boyfriend to thank for the inspiration. Or is it boyfriend now?” Rhonda asks, a gleam in her blue eyes.
“Ex,” I say, saving Hope the trouble. “She’s just here to work with us for the summer.”
Rhonda tilts her head, appraising us. “So it’s strictly business between you two?”
“All business,” Hope says. “Nothing but science.”
