Page 36 of Small Town Schemes & Summer Kisses
Wasn’t it?
Reaching the room, which was no bigger than a closet, Beck clicked the flashlight on his phone and scanned the shelves filled with cardboard boxes, paint cans, and extension cords. He was familiar with the layout, so he kept searching through a mess of crates and plastic bins until he finally felt what he was looking for. A stack of faded folded fabric.Jackpot. He grabbed twosweatshirts, shook them out, and headed back toward the main room of the bait shop.
He wanted to make sure he had misread nothing before he finally told Caroline the real reason he had to go away. As he entered the retail portion of the store, he heard Caroline lightly singing, her voice lifting above the noise of the rain.
Love.
He could almost hear a distant, teasing chorus in his head:Oh, Beckett. What have you gone and done now?
She stopped singing when she heard him approach. “I found a candle in the drawer. I know it isn’t ideal, but my phone ran out of juice.”
“The candle will work just fine. Here.” He held out a sweatshirt. “Not sure if this is your style. It’s got a vintage bait shop vibe.”
She lifted the shirt up to the flickering candlelight. She laughed as she examined the quirky logo: a marlin sporting a pair of stylish sunglasses, leaping energetically from a field of vibrant bluebells. “How have I never come across this before?”
“You don’t want whoever designed a giant fish jumping out of flowers setting foot anywhere near the town. You can head behind that display to change.”
Caroline disappeared to the back of the store as Beck made quick work of his wet shirt, tossing it on the counter. Lifting the sweatshirt, he gave it a good sniff and snapped it in the air. A cloud of dust appeared just in time with another flash of lightning.
He heard Caroline’s voice behind him as he helplessly tried to shove his arms in the sweatshirt, which was a size too small and smelled like mothballs.
“Not exactly haute couture,” she quipped as her footsteps echoed across the store. “At least, it’s cozy. What do you—”
As he tugged the sweatshirt, maneuvering his head through the opening, he turned and caught sight of Caroline watching him. Her gaze quickly darted away as she turned in the opposite direction, pretending to be preoccupied.
“Want me to put on some music?” Beck teased, tugging the shirt down. It didn’t reach his belt, leaving part of his belly exposed.
“Retro clothing and a romantic soundtrack against the thundering of the storm? You know how to set a scene, Beckett.” She crossed her arms, turning back around to face him. “Who can resist ambiance? We should save any power your phone may have left.”
He turned more serious, meeting her eyes. He needed to know whether he was right about her feelings. If he could admit his own, maybe she’d be open to discussing the future.With him.
“Caroline, about what you said—”
“Can we pretend I didn’t say it, please?” Her voice wavered with uncertainty.
It was the first time Beck had seen her this vulnerable, without the armor of plans and goals. It tightened something in his chest. He wished he could see her properly instead of just went flashes of lightning filled the room. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and brush the worry from her face with kisses.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“We should probably eat,” she suggested, her voice echoing slightly in the empty, unfinished room. She grabbed the crinkled paper bag filled with their makeshift dinner and moved to where large, white paint buckets were neatly lined up on the bare concrete floor. “Sorry, I don’t have plates or fine silverware,” shesaid as she settled onto a bucket, using another as a makeshift table. With a playful grin, she held up a packet of plastic silverware. “I do have a spork.”
“Sharing banana cream pie and a spork? The wonders never cease,” he replied with a chuckle, settling onto a bucket beside her. He reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of napkins, setting them down before retrieving a Styrofoam container. As he pried open the lid, a cloud of steam wafted up, carrying the savory aroma of meatballs and gravy. “I’m surprised it is still warm,” he remarked, his stomach growling in anticipation.
She handed him the plastic utensil, a hybrid between a spoon and a fork. With a gentle motion, he scooped up a piece of the savory meatballs nestled alongside a mound of creamy mashed potatoes. Carefully, he guided the bite-sized portion towards her, the rich aroma of seasoned meat mingling with the buttery scent of potatoes as they approached. She took a bite, her lips dragging over the plastic utensil.
He lifted a spoonful of creamy gravy and potatoes to his lips, savoring the rich aroma before taking a bite. With a gentle smile, he scooped another portion onto the spork, turning to Caroline.
“Are you trying to feed me?” she asked as the container switched hands. Beck watched her devour another bite; her expression delighted. “It’s pretty good. Even without a fancy table or a cozy porch.”
“You know…” Beck’s voice lingered, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air.
The room lit up with a resounding crack. For a moment he saw the blush creeping over her cheeks.
“What?” Her gaze dropped to the contents of the container. She kept her eyes downcast, watching him chase some mashed potatoes with the spork.
“Nothing.”
Beck offered her the last bite, but she shook her head. Polishing off the last of the dinner, he closed the container and put it back in the bag.
