Page 59 of A Shore Fling
I yank my wallet from my back pocket. “Ring up her stuff.”
She places her hand over mine. “I’ve got it.”
I slowly shake my head. “I already told you it’s your reward.”
“I’ll buy the tank top.” She tries to bargain.
I shake my head and hand my debit card over to Reed. “Don’t worry, I get the family discount.”
Reed laughs. “I should make you pay more for having to deal with you.” He hands my card back to me and then bags up Nina’s things. “So, Nina, when can you stop by again? I’m serious about wanting your feedback.”
I shove my wallet back in my pocket a little too forcefully. This fucker wants my girl to help him?My girl? When did I start thinking about her that way?Was it when she kissed me so tenderly to comfort me? Or maybe when she tucked me in for the night? Whenever it was, it snuck up on me like a stealthy ninja.
“My schedule is wide open,” she tells him.
“How about tomorrow night?” I quickly insert myself. “I can give you a ride.”
Reed nods. “That works for me.”
“Sure,” Nina agrees.
Reed hands her the bag with her items. “See you then.”
Nina starts toward the door. I’m about to follow when Reed’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. I peer back at him as he mutters softly, “Don’t fuck this up.”
I give a sharp nod before I follow her from the store. The sun’s sinking lower, casting the shops and pier in a soft golden haze.
“Do you still want to grab something to eat?” I ask.
“Yes, please. I’m dying to have a lobster roll.”
My hand finds and clasps hers. “I know the perfect place.” I lead her to a small standalone building situated near the pier. “This place is only open from Memorial Day through mid-September every year,” I explain as we walk up to the window.
“How come?”
“The owners go south for the offseason.”
Nina’s lips twist into a grimace. “I bet the winters are miserable up here.”
“They can be. But living near the ocean keeps the snowfall somewhat down. We just deal with the wind, and worry about the ocean dragging us all out to sea.” I laugh.
Her eyes flash wider. “That doesn’t sound scary at all.”
“I’ve lived here for forty years and haven’t floated away yet.” I squeeze her hand. “You can’t say the same.”
She laughs. “I guess not.”
We order two lobster rolls, chips, and drinks, and I throw in a couple of whoopie pies because it’s practically law around here. A few minutes later, we walk along the pier to a long bench. We sit side by side, the sky streaked in warm tones of pink and orange. Boats bob lazily out on the water.
She takes a bite, then hums like she’s just tasted something divine. “Okay, this is dangerous. I could eat ten of these.”
“You’d regret it halfway through the second one.”
“Probably. But it’d be worth it.”
We fall into easy conversation about the shops, the locals, and the weird names some of the boats riding by have. I notice the way her shoulders relax the longer we sit here, as if she’s settling into our new adversarial dynamic. “You’re a great addition to this town,” I tell her.
She turns to me. “What do you mean?”
