“You should’ve just told me,”Drewsaid as he held his hands up in defense. “Ididn’t know you played for both teams.Butgood for you, bro.Ican totally be your wingman the next time we go out.Twiceas many options for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Itried to be neighborly yesterday.Wentnext door to the oldWhitlockplace and got hit in the face with the ball-end of a sex toy.”Ipressed my hand to my cheek and winced at the bite of pain.Ithurt like a bitch.
“Ahhh,” he said in understanding. “Youhad to get a good look at the woman who almost burned your house down.Hot, right?Itold you.”
Drew wasn’t wrong.Aurorawas fine as hell.Fuck-me legs, a tight ass, and a gorgeous face withBambieyesIwanted to see beneath me asI?—
“I’ll take that look as a yes,”Drewsaid, snapping me out of the daydream. “Whichstill doesn’t explain why she smacked you upside the head with a dick.”
“I told you.Shewas unpacking a box and got startled.”
“You gonna tap that?”
“No,”Isaid asIshouldered my bag. “She’smy neighbor.Iwas just introducing myself.”
“You gonna go back over there?”
“Yeah.Itold herI’dfix the stairs that go up to the front door on the second story.Idon’t want her to snap a femur falling through them on her way up and down.”
Drew lifted an eyebrow. “You’regoing to do manual labor, but you’re not going to make a move?”Hissurprise morphed into a grin. “Oryou’re doing manual labor so you can get her in bed and do a different kind of manual labor.”
Drew was a good guy at heart, but he had a tendency to present as a douchebag.Beingthe “love ‘em and leave ‘em” type worked for him, which meant he assumed it worked for everyone else too.Drewloved the waves of tourists that came and went each season; the temporary nature of it all.Hell,Iused to love it too.Butwe were getting too old for that shit.
Maybe getting hit in the face by a dildo would knock some sense into him . . .
“Or,”Drewsaid. “Areyou just poking around while she’s there to see if she’s the same kind of batshit crazy her great-aunt was?Crazycan be fun.Maybeit runs in the family.Mygranddad’s got all kinds of stories aboutLadyWhitlock.”
“Fuck off,”Isaid with a half-cocked smile.Ipunched him in the shoulder. “I’llcatch you later.Staysafe.”
The summer sun was blazing hot whenIstepped out into the parking lot.Itossed my bag into the bed of the truck and peeled out of the station parking lot.
Ernie’sFish‘nFuelwas packed whenIpulled into the gravel lot.Thedouble-wide trailer that served asCedarIsland’sone-stop coffee shop, diner, deli, and seafood market was teeming with locals and summertimers alike.
The bells hanging from the door jingled asIyanked it open and stepped inside.Iwas greeted by the smell of fryer grease andErniebellowing, “Wharton!”
I lifted two fingers and tipped my chin asIslid onto one of the cracked vinyl stools that were pushed up to the bar. “Morning.”
“You getting off or going in?”Erniehollered as he adjusted hisJohnDeerehat and pulled a batch of fried oysters out of the deep fryer.
“Gettin’ off,”Isaid asIstole one of the order-taking pens and started scribbling my to-do list on a napkin.
Flour-spattered overalls came into view asErnieshuffled over and dropped a mug of coffee in front of me. “Longnight?”
“Not bad,”Isaid asIstarted on my hardware store list. “Gota little sleep just after midnight.”
“You want your usual?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Whatcha got there?” he asked, pointing a gnarled finger at my napkin list before turning to get started on my chicken biscuit.
“Gotta drive down toBeaufortand hit up the hardware store.”
“You working on your place?”
“Nah.I’mhelping out a neighbor.”
Ernie let out a pack-a-day laugh. “Youdon’t have neighbors.”Itonly took a few seconds for it to dawn on him. “Youmean the oldWhitlockplace?”
