I squeeze lime over the second taco, and the juice mixes with the hearty flavors. It’s easy to get lost in Coconut Beach and imagine nothing else exists outside of here.
She kissed me.
Wendy closed the gap and walked away, leaving me gutted. It wasn’t ordinary.
Both tacos are gone in minutes, and I order a second beer. The bartender pulls it from the cooler and pops the cap without asking if I want a glass. Cold spreads down my throat on the first gulp. I peel the label on the bottle, and the condensation makes it come off in wet strips.
Tonight, I should stay in my room. Finish the book I started this morning and let the kiss exist as a onetime thing we’ll both pretend didn’t happen. That’s the smart play, and I’ve built a career on those.
The copper on the water deepens to amber as the sun drops lower. I leave a few hundred dollars on the bar, more than enough to cover my tab, and walk back toward the B&B along the beach route. Sand gets in my shoes, and I don’t stop to shake it out.
By nine forty-five, I’ve showered and changed, standing at the door in the Captain’s Room with my hand on the knob. I take the stairs down.
Two trays of white paint wait, along with an extra roller propped against the wall. Wendy is on the step stool, rolling thefirst coat along the top of the wall, in an old T-shirt and paint-stained jean shorts. Her dark, wavy hair is twisted up, and a smear of white is streaked across her forearm.
“Thought I wasn’t invited,” I say, licking my lips while trying to hold back my grin, but I fail.
“Had a sneaky feeling you’re not the type to listen.” She smirks, but doesn’t turn toward me.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she loves having me watch her.
“You’re right.” I grab the roller.
She looks over at me, her eyes sliding down my body. “You’re painting in that?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You can stop eye-fucking me now.”
Wendy’s mouth falls open, and then she closes it. Her pulse beats in her neck. “Um, I’m not.”
“Just making sure,” I say, removing my shirt.
She keeps her eyes zeroed in on mine, not allowing her gaze to wander. Right now, this woman is completely in control.
“Abs don’t impress me, Banks. Do you realize where we are? They’re basically a requirement in Coconut Beach.”
“Glad to know I fit in.” I toss the material on the stairs, then start at the opposite end of the hall, putting space between us.
The spongy sound of latex rolling on drywall fills the area. Being around her shouldn’t be this easy.
“We should talk about it,” she finally says, keeping her eyes focused on the corner she’s painting, where the two tall walls meet.
“About?”
“Last night. It can’t happen again.” She dips the roller and keeps her strokes as even as her tone.
“Understood,” I say.
“Great. Glad that’s out of the way.”
“Can you explain why?”
“You’re a guest, Carter.”
“That’s the only reason? Because if so, I can leave.”
She shakes her head. “That’s absurd. My grandmother would flip. Even if you scurry off to Grand Palm, it’s still a no. You and I are not happening.”
I narrow my eyes at her, then smile. “Okay.”
