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“Hi, how are you, Anthony?” I greet the cashier. Anthony has the sort of face where you can’t tell his age. Around the holidays when the store gets busier, he could be in his sixties, but tonight when he can work at a leisurely pace, he might be just past his prime. He’s been working here since I was a kid, so he feels a little bit like an honorary uncle with how often I see him and the fact that he’s watched me grow up.
“Hey, Summer. Can’t complain,” he replies. “What’s this I hear about you and Jared?” I roll my eyes. Cashiers are just as nosy as bank tellers.
“We broke up. It’s fairly new, but we’re doing okay,” I decide to reply. Even though I hate how everyone feels entitled to your business in Lakeland, I’d rather be the one telling the story. That way, an accurate retelling is at least possible if not entirely probable.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You two made a good couple. High school sweethearts and all that. Cute kid too,” he continues, scanning my items with the sort of rote efficiency that comes from working the same job for a long time. This news will be all over town by the end of the week. People have already noticed that I haven’t been wearing my engagement ring for the last six months. I’ve had more than a few comments from customers at the bank asking if I was getting it cleaned or if it had gotten lost.
I make a noncommittal noise, because really? What do you say to someone rooting for a relationship that’s been unofficially over for years? “Uh, thanks, Anthony.” I pay the total and grab the two grocery bags before heading toward the door.
“Summer, wait up!” Ryan calls. I pause just inside the door, feeling my face flame as Anthony’s eyes go back and forthbetween Ryan and myself, an eyebrow raised.Great. Another thing to add to the rumors. ‘Hot guy harassing the local, newly-single mother.’
After paying for his groceries, he pushes his cart toward me. “You can throw your bags in here,” he says, pointing to his cart. I place them inside with a questioning look. “Can I walk you out? It's starting to get dark,” he explains. I turn my eyes to the nearly black sky outside and realize he’s right. Even though Lakeland is a relatively safe town, it’s still smart to be careful.
I smile and say, “Thanks. My car is right over there,” I gesture to my red Honda on the far side of the parking lot. I pull my hood up to keep the rain off my face, and we start heading toward my car. Luckily, the rain has slowed to a drizzle, so we aren’t getting completely soaked.
“You really parked all the way over there? There’s hardly even lights over there, Summer! That’s not safe,” he says, playfully exasperated with me.
“I’m a grown woman, Ryan. The parking lot was packed when I got here.” I reply, hoping he can somehow hear my massive eye roll, since he can’t see my face. “Why are you so concerned about me anyway?” We reach my car and I pop the trunk.
“I’m not.” He sighs, lifting his hat to scratch through his dark waves before plopping it back on backward, “I mean… I’m not concerned about you. I just want you to be safe.”
I tilt my head and say, “That’s the same thing.”
“I’d do this for any woman,” he counters, batting my hands out of the way so he can grab my bags and place them in the trunk for me. “It’s par for the course when you grow up with a little sister who likes to get into trouble.” The comment stings even though it shouldn’t. A small part of me hoped he was interested in me.
“And do you flirt with every woman too?” The question is out before I can stop myself. I meant for it to be playful, but when it leaves my lips it sounds accusatory. I mentally facepalm.
Way to play it cool, Summer.
“What? No. That’s not who I am at all.” Ryan shakes his head, closing my trunk.
“So, you don’t frequently throw compliments at every woman you meet?” I ask skeptically.
“Only pretty bank tellers,” he says with a smirk while I roll my eyes, fighting my own smile. A part of me thinks he could just be teasing me, like the kind that happens between friends and nothing more. He searches my face and continues, “Seriously, Summer. I don’t flirt with every woman I meet. I just can’t seem to help myself with you.” He rakes his teeth over his lower lip and shrugs, as if to dismiss his admission.
“Well, thanks,” I say, blushing. “Not for the flirting, for walking me to my car,” I blurt. My face flames a yet undiscovered shade of red.
Now would be a great time for one of those alien abductions to happen to me.
I walk quickly toward my driver's side door and pop it open. Before I can make my escape, his large hand holds the door, practically caging me in. My breath catches as he bends at the waist, his face suddenly much closer. I look into his eyes and am momentarily mesmerized by their startling green color and his thick, sooty lashes.
“You’re welcome. For both,” he says, those eyes twinkling with mirth. The spearmint on his breath fills my lungs, and for a crazed moment, I want to lean in and taste it for myself. “I’ll see you Saturday?” He leans back, giving me room and I feel my sanity return.
Did I really almost kiss him? Am I insane?
“Yeah, Saturday,” I reply, trying to regain control of myself. Ryan shuts my door before stepping back. I peel my eyes away from him and start my car. He moves himself and the cart to the side, waving to me as I pull out. I wave back, excitement taking flight in my chest.Saturday.
CHAPTER 6
Ryan
Iload up my groceries in my truck and dash home. As much as I want to replay the way Summer looked up at me from her car, I can’t. I shouldn’t. Even though it really seemed like she might lean in and kiss me… I rub my lips together, imagining the phantom press of her lips on mine. I shake my head and focus on the road.
My sister and her family are coming for dinner, and I was supposed to have it started by now. Her and her husband, Todd, are very specific about Hudson’s bedtime. I can’t blame them because I’ve seen the little monster he turns into when he gets tired.
As I rush to unload the groceries in my kitchen, I leave out the ingredients to make carbonara and a salad. Pasta is always a guarantee for my nephew, and I’d rather not sit through a standoff over chicken nuggets. Just as I’m slicing up the pancetta, my front door opens, and Layla pokes her head through. “Hey!” she says, stepping the rest of the way inside. She sheds her damp outer layers in the entryway, hanging up her raincoat and setting her shoes by the door.
“Hey, Lay. Where’s Todd and Hudson?” I ask, washing my hands at the sink.
