And I’ve noticed.
The sundresses are new. So is the way she carries herself, like she’s more relaxed, more sure.
It’s like something about this place unlocked her, and now she’s everywhere I look.
I don’t need that kind of distraction.
I stop short when I realize she’s sitting in an Adirondack chair in front of the bar when I get there, legs crossed, hair pulled up in a messy knot on top of her head, wearing another one of those sundresses. This one is a pale blue and shows off the tan that she’s acquired since coming to Coconut Beach. I certainly don’t notice the way the material creeps up her smooth thighs. Nope. Not happening.
What I do allow myself to notice is she’s holding two coffees like she’s guarding them with her life. She has a bag next to her chair.
She looks up when she hears my keys and smiles. “Oh, good,” she says, brightening. “You’re here.”
I try to play it cool and not like the weirdo who was just thinking about her. “Silvie. What are you doing here?”
She hops up and holds one of the coffees out to me like an offering. “Please let me work here. I promise I’ll sit in the corner and you won’t even know I’m here.”
I take the coffee because she’s pushing it toward me. And I desperately need that coffee right now. I’ve been sleeping like crap and working so many hours it’s not even funny.
“What do you mean?” I say, trying to understand. “You want to work at the bar?”
“I have work to do on my laptop,” she says, picking up her tote bag and putting it over her shoulder. “I promise I won’t disturb you. In fact, you won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Promise.”
Yeah, right. I don’t say it out loud, but the thought lands fully formed in my head. I couldn’tnotnotice her here. Even when she’s not around, she takes up my thoughts. That realization makes me clear my throat and focus very hard on unlocking the door.
“I thought you were on vacation,” I call as I turn and unlock the door. “Why are you working?”
She sighs. “I’m on vacation. But when you’re one of the bosses, do you ever really get a vacation?”
I realize I don’t actually know what Silvie does. And, somehow, I’m interested. More than I should be, probably, but not enough to admit it aloud.
“Okay,” I say, opening the door and holding it for her. She follows me like this is already settled, which I guess it is.
“Thank you so much. Birdie and the Bees are insistent I make a friend my own age. I think Birdie might be getting tired of me.”
I doubt that. Birdie is just meddling like she usually is, but I don’t tell her that.
“How’s your pet iguana?” I ask as I flip on the power behind the bar.
Her grin is instant. “Great. We’re having a birthday party for him next week.”
I freeze, turn slowly, and look at her. “What?”
She points at me and giggles, “A joke, Cal.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “You’re funny.”
She beams. “I try. Anyway, are you up for being my friend? That way, I can get the Bees off my back and tell them that I have three friends now. You, Summer, and Iggy.”
I snort at her joke.
She heads for a table with a great view of the ocean and sets up camp with practiced efficiency. Laptop in front of her chair, her coffee within reach, and phone flipped face down as if it might distract her.
Am I up for being her friend?
Right now, I can’t trust my mind when it comes to her. And I don’t like it. Being actual friends means more time spent together. That could be catastrophic for my whole “keep it casual” schtick. Friends means letting your guard down.
Can I even do that?
