“And what are we?”
“Complicated,” she returned.
Cal ran his thumb down the condensation on his glass. “I’ll take complicated over just friends. I can live with complicated.”
Edie was grateful to hear it but wasn’t sure she could say the same for herself.
This love triangle was a limbo she couldn’t live with much longer, not for the sake of her own sanity.
But for the sake of her heart, she supposed she’d have to remain there a little longer.
CHAPTER FIVE
“That’s the fourth cancelation, Skip.” Camille hung up the phone, shoulders hanging, too. “We’re effectively one hundred percent vacant from this moment forward.”
“Everyone’s all worked up over that dang storm.” The old fisherman hobbled toward the back windows of The Getaway, his thick brows perched over an examining gaze.
The sea was active with whitecap swells that left a frothy foam on the sandy coastline after each crash and boom. Even the sky seemed to match the ocean’s drama with dark gray clouds charting across its expanse faster than any boat Camille had seen. Mother Nature was downright angry.
“Those weathermen like to rile everyone up with buzzwords like, ‘storm of the century’ and ‘gale force winds’. All they’re aiming to do is create a commotion at the grocery store, a bottleneck on the highway, and a mess of our reservation schedule,” Skip groused.
Camille understood Skip’s frustration, but unlike her curmudgeon friend, she paid attention to the weather reports and took them seriously. Especially this one that threatened torip the shutters and the shingles off of their newly renovated coastal inn.
“I think we should probably batten down the hatches,” she said confidently, fully aware she had no clue what the exact term referred to. But it sounded right.
Skip looked at her like she’d fallen off her rocker. “Batten down the what?”
“Batten down the hatches. Secure the windows. The doors. That’s what that means, right?”
The old man just rolled his eyes and shuffled back to his favorite reading chair. “Millie, this house has weathered more storms than years you’ve been alive. It’ll be fine.”
“Maybe, but I still think we should make preparations. They’re saying we might be without electricity for some time. Foster has a few generators from the construction site he said we could use. And I’m planning to head into town to stock up on essentials like water and canned goods. Is there anything you’d like me to pick up while I’m there?”
“Some common sense.”
Camille folded her arms over her chest and cut Skip a firm look. “I’m going to take this storm seriously for the both of us, since it seems like you can’t be bothered. As an innkeeper, it’s my job to take care of the Inn. And as your friend, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
Those words worked their way past Skip’s grumblings, wedging somewhere in his heart based on the relenting grin he finally offered her.
“And before you go saying you can take care of yourself—”
“Lord knows I can’t do that anymore,” he admitted gruffly. He settled his readers on the bridge of his nose and picked up the book from the side table. “And I also know it was the good Lord that brought you here to me, Millie. You do what you need to do with the place. I’ll stop my grumbling.”
“Oh, that’s highly unlikely.” She nudged the old sailor with a fist before shouldering into her purse to set out on her long list of errands. “Any special nonperishable food requests?”
“None of those baked beans. Give me gas.”
“Noted.” She laughed.
“And only the canned fruit in syrup. The other stuff doesn’t have any flavor.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
He held her eyes for a heartfelt moment. “Just make it back before rainfall. I don’t like the thought of you out on those roads when they’re slick and the oil comes to the surface.”
“I’ll be back before you know it, old man.”
“That’d better be a promise.”
