Page 22 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
“Tell you what?”
“Is my shirt out of time-out yet?”
“It’s notyourshirt; it’s a TCA shirt that I happen to like.”
“Uh-huh, and…”
“And it is still located in the back of my closet.”
“Ouch.” I chuckle.
“Are you saying I should go rescue it instead of sitting out here with you?”
“Not a chance, Beautiful. Not a damn chance.”
14
SAIGE
“My brother isn’t here,” Lettie says the moment the door swings open and I nod.
“I know. I need to talk to you,” I say evenly, holding up a box of donuts as I brace for whatever she’s about to throw at me. I waited until I’d seen Bridger pull out of the driveway before making the short walk to his house, all the while rehearsing what I’d say to Lettie if she let me in.
“Why?” Her dark hair is piled on top of her head as she stares at me, her shoulder leaning against the doorjamb.
“Because I’m not good at this and I was happy with my life. But then your brother wormed his way into my heart, and in a shocking turn of events, I like it andhim.” Exhaling slowly, I add, “And I just need you to help me with this one thing.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, the silence stretching out between us. I don’t have siblings, and it makes me kind of sad I never really got to do this with Vienna before she and Wells got together.
“Fine,” she says, pushing herself up and walking inside the house, leaving me to follow. Shutting the door behind me, I take in the bright, beachy space like I’m seeing it for the firsttime. It’s very Love Beach but not Bridger. The thought has my lips turning up at the corner as I place the box on the counter. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Feel free to start talking,” she says, placing the mug and a bottle of flavored creamer in front of me. The words are straightforward but not unkind, and I take that as a win.
“I want to fly your parents down here.”
Lettie blinks at me, her coffee halfway to her mouth before she sets the mug down and narrows her eyes. “You want to what?”
“I dated a musician when I was in college, and it was the awful kind ofI’ll never do that againkind of relationship. Naturally, your brother is the first guy in a really long time to want something with me.”
“He’s perceptive like that,” she says wryly and I nod.
“Obviously, that’s a sticking point now.” Placing my palms on the counter, I try my best to be open as I say, “I know he’s not my ex, and I know that I can’t just make everything better overnight.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“To show him I know he’s more than the band, more than a musician, and that even though he’s driven me absolutely crazy since he moved in,”—I swallow hard—“I need to show him that I’ve been listening.”
“And you want to fly our parents here.”
“He really loves you guys and he said they’d been resistant when he tried to get them down here before.”
That piece of the conversation had played on a loop in my head after I’d returned home. So much of my job is reading body language and knowing what the buyer, seller, and agent are thinking before anyone utters a word.
Pressing her lips into a firm line, she asks, “And then what?”
“Then I hope we can start building something together—something that works.”
