“When it’s convenient for you, Mr. Banks.”
To anyone just watching, we barely acknowledged each other. But the underlying convo streaming between us when our eyes meet is loud and fucking clear. I want her, and she wants me. And I plan to use the rest of my summer in Coconut Beach to explore that further.
I head out, closing the door behind me, then take the stairs to the beach level. The beach is already packed with tourists even though it’s barely after nine. As I stroll the packed sand, I pass a group of kids who have built a sandcastle the size of a car. Actually, one might even call it a kingdom.
I move toward the boardwalk, and two women in matching striped hats stop arguing over brunch when I pass. They stare at me, and I keep my gaze focused in front of me. Part of me wonders if they recognized me, but being looked at like that is nothing new. My sister—rest in peace—used to call me a thirst trap. Whatever the fuck that meant.
The difference between Coconut Beach and New York is no one looks twice at me there.
I pass Cocktails & Chaos and see Cal unstacking chairs on the patio.
He gives me a nod and a cheesy grin. “Hey, New York! I haven’t seen you around lately.”
“You might soon,” I tell him with a wave, continuing down the path toward the farmers market, which is booming with people. I’ll be avoiding that area, considering big crowds aren’t my first choice. I tolerate them but really do prefer being alone or in small groups.
Two weeks ago, I was in my penthouse, living the same day on repeat. Now I’m dodging sunburned families and flip-flop traffic on the boardwalk.
Gideon told me to find myself, but I don’t think he expected me to, and I sure as hell didn’t.
When I pass Sunrise Beach Park, I can smell the food trucks cooking at Street Eats. Across the way is Salty Sirens, a locally owned coffee shop, with a turquoise awning and a chalkboard menu on the sidewalk. As I enter, a teenager in a neon-pink shirt greets me. Her name tag saysJewel.
“How may I help you?” she asks, staring at me.
I read the menu that’s written with chalk on the giant board behind her. They all have summer names. “Coconut Lifeguard?”
“Yeah, it’s great, but only if you have a sweet tooth. Otherwise, I’d go for something like an Iced Beachball or a Shaken Bikini.”
I smile at her. “Uh, what about a double shot of espresso, iced and …”
The day I walked into the B&B and met Wendy, I memorized everything in the room while avoiding eye contact with her. That included the sticker printed on the side of her drink cup.
“Oh yeah. A gigantic iced coffee with a splash of cream, two pumps of vanilla. Light ice and a swirl of caramel.”
Her brows furrow. “For Wendy?”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Wendy Winslow. That’s her order. Her family owns Seaside B&B.”
All I can do is smile because I stupidly forgot I was in a small town. “Actually, yes. I’m staying there, and I thought I’d pickup a coffee for her.”
“Wow. Are you twodating?”
“No,” I state. “Do you assume every man who walks in here and orders a woman a coffee is dating?”
“Hmm.” She pretends to think about it. “Yes.”
“Teenagers,” I mutter, handing her a twenty and stuffing another one in the tip jar. “Keep this situation to yourself.”
“It’s going to take more than twenty bucks,” Jewel says.
I scoff and open my wallet, putting another one inside.
“One more,” she says, blinking innocently.
“This is extortion,” I whisper.
“Call it what you want,” she tells me. “You’ll pick them up down there.”
