“Do we not like the girl who left?”
My spine straightens in irritation. He’s poking the bruise I came here to get away from. “First, there’s no ‘we.’ Second, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Clearly,” he says lightly, and I’m not sure if he’s referring to the two of us not being aweor the fact that he’s ill-informed.
Is he really the one all the girls in town are allegedly crushing on? He’s cute, sure, but not Myles caliber. It must just be the novelty of someone new in a town where everyone knows everyone else. I wonder if he knows.I’mnot going to be the one to tell him—he’s a bit too confident already.
He sets the orange haphazardly in the display bin, and I frown. “You’re doing that wrong.”
“What?”
“The oranges, my guy,” I say. Why does this kid always seem to be around when I’m in a mood? He probably thinks I’m a total bitch, but it doesn’t seem to have fazed him yet. “That’s not how we stack them here.”
His brows lift. “Wow. I didn’t realize I was talking to the Orange Police.”
I walk up to him and take the orange he’s holding out of hishand. He grins down at me, but I ignore it. “They should be in straight rows, angled into a tight pyramid.” I start rearranging the section in front of me to show him. “It’s neater, and people are more likely to buy produce that’s visually appealing. That includes how it’s displayed.”
He hums thoughtfully and mimics my design. “How do you know so much about this?”
I think about how to answer that, and consider evading the question like I did the night we met. But if he’s working here, he’s obviously gonna be around for a while, either having moved here or at least committed for the entire summer. My dad only considers short-term hires if they’ll be in town through Labor Day. “My dad’s your boss.”
“Ah,” he says, a tiny hint of surprise in his tone. “So you’re the daughter who doesn’t work here anymore, and whose summer shifts Mr. Madden needed to fill. Now I know your last name, at least.”
I sigh and give in. “I’m Amelia.”
He points to himself. “Gregory.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “I know.”
“You mean youremembered.”
Man, this guy is cocky. “When you’ve lived in the same small town your whole life, the outsiders tend to stand out.”
He runs a hand across his hair. “How long does it take for one to go from outsider to insider, would you say?”
“Depends on how long you’re planning to stay.”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to get rid of me or if you’re worried you’ll miss me if I leave.”
“Definitely the first one.”
He laughs. “I hate to break it to you, but I think we’re here for a while. The whole summer, at least.”
“We?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t think any of the apartment complexes in town would rent a sixteen-year-old his own place.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“Arizona.”
“Wow, that’s… different. What’s it like there?” I haven’t traveled much, but when you live in a place as beautiful as Kingfisher Cove—somewhere other people spend their hard-earned money to visit—it doesn’t feel necessary.
“Hot and dry.”
“Hmm. Could be better for my hair,” I say. The summer humidity near the ocean is my one complaint because it brings out the frizz in my naturally wavy hair.
Gregory’s gaze lands on me and sticks for a long moment. My heart catches, and I quickly tell it to stop being stupid. “What color is that, anyway?” he asks.
