by T. I. Lowe
Lincoln cut a glare at Josie, recalling how supportive she’d been that very same morning when she swiped a bite of French toast while taking a moment to chat with her friend.
“Okay.” Opal took another bite.
“What’s that red blob on your chin, Josie?” Lincoln pointed at it.
Josie’s eyes bugged out of her head as her hand darted up and wiped away the evidence that was obviously marinara sauce. “This lemonade is outrageous, Opal. May I have another glass?”
Opal narrowed her green eyes, watching the group for a few beats before standing. “Sure.”
As soon as she was inside, Lincoln tossed the rest of his biscuit and the remaining biscuits on the platter to the seagulls waiting patiently by the railing. “No carbs, but you can eat pizza and had no problem at breakfast this morning.”
“There’s a few slices left in Josie’s truck,” Sophia whispered, extending a peace offering.
“You couldn’t warn a guy?” Lincoln chugged the rest of his lemonade, unable to get the foul taste from his mouth.
“You didn’t notice me protesting a bit strongly at the store yesterday?” Josie spoke up.
Lincoln looked over at her and found her making that silly face she had sported then.
Sophia pointed to her face. “That is a warning look. You ever see us wearing that look, you better take notice.”
He scratched the side of his beard. “But her mom is an amazing cook.”
“Opal is exceptional at a lot of things. Cooking is not one of them,” Josie supplied.
“Yeah, just a few months back she made us cookies with pickle relish in them. And, honey, just let me tell you one thing, dill has no business in a chocolate chip cookie. Makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it.” Sophia’s prim face puckered again.
“Why not tell her the truth?” Lincoln reached over, swiped Sophia’s glass, and finished it off in one long gulp.
“She’s one of the dearest people you’ll ever meet. We don’t want to hurt her feelings,” Josie whispered just as Opal’s humming grew closer.
Opal came back out with another pitcher of lemonade and refilled everyone’s glasses. “I sure hate that y’all can’t try out this new recipe,” she said to Josie.
Lincoln snorted.
“What’s that about?” Opal asked him.
Lincoln ticked his head in the guilty women’s direction. “Opal, I’m about to prove I’m your true friend. One that’s honest, unlike those two.” He shot Sophia and Josie a glare before redirecting his attention to her. “Straight up, you can’t cook. Those things on that plate are an abomination against biscuits. As of right now, you’re off KP duty indefinitely.”
“KP?”
“Kitchen Patrol,” he clarified. “No more cooking for you. Stick to creating your unique furniture and making your wishes. That’s what the world needs from you. Not fishy biscuits.”
Opal sat back, stunned by his admission. She searched the other two for more answers, but they were too busy studying their laps. “Umm . . . thank you?”
Lincoln tipped his head in one quick nod. “You’re welcome.” He stood and helped her out of her chair. “I’m starving. Let me take you out to supper.”
“What about those two fibbing friends over there?” Opal asked as Lincoln settled his hand on the small of her back and began directing her down the deck steps.
“Those two fibbers are stingy, too. They already ate pizza. If they’re still hungry, they can finish their stash in Josie’s truck.” After helping Opal into the Jeep, he limped around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “You seriously had no idea about your cooking skills?”
Opal snickered. “I know it’s unusual and you know by now I like unusual. But it sure has been fun watching those two soldier through my experiments without ever saying a thing about it.” She giggled again, and again he was reminded that her silliness was only a cover for the sharp-witted woman behind the curls and eccentric outfits.
Lincoln took her to a barbecue joint he’d stumbled upon a while back. They ate their fill of pulled pork, ribs, and all the fixings while Opal chattered nonstop, but for some reason he didn’t mind so much.
His cheeks actually hurt from laughing with Opal during their meal, but Lincoln couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he parked beside his beach house. Even the constant throb in his leg didn’t dampen the best evening he’d had in quite a while. And even though he tried not to see it, Opal Gilbert was one intriguing woman. She didn’t just wing it with her refurbished pieces. The pixie knew how to properly do things, like how to use the right hardware and the proper technique to stain a piece so it didn’t look like an uneven gaum. A lesson she patiently taught him when he’d flubbed his first attempt.
With the smile still in place, Lincoln climbed out of the Jeep and slowly maneuvered to the back porch. He wedged his cane beside the porch steps and eased down to sit on the top one while watching the sky paint itself in vibrant hues of orange and purple over the ocean. Breathing in the salty air, he leaned back on his elbows and scanned the beach as his phone chimed. He dug it out of his pocket and winced at the number. Taking in another less even breath, he sat up and hit Play on the voice mail and listened.
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Momma. . . . I just . . . I just wanted to let you know that your dad is mostly better . . .” She sniffed and breathed heavily into the phone. “I . . . we . . . miss you. And I think you need to make this right, sooner rather than later. Your dad will forgive you, Son. All you need to do is ask.” She sniffed a few more times. “I hear you’re faring pretty well there. That’s good. That’s what I had hoped for, but I never thought you would shut us out like this. Please call me soon. We love you.”
The heavy meal churned in Lincoln’s stomach as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. With a watery gaze, he stared at the ocean without seeing it. The only thing he could see before him was that last day in Beaufort and the look on his father’s face right before Lincoln turned his back on him and the rest of his family. He’d felt less of a Cole man in that moment than he did lying in the hospital after that first surgery.
If only it were possible to take it all back. To hit the Rewind button . . .
Slowly standing, Lincoln wiped at his damp eyes and limped inside to hide from that mistake for a little while longer.
8
“Are you sure this is how you want to spend one of your last nights of freedom?” Sophia questioned Carter’s fiancée, Dominica, as the women set up their foldout chairs on the quiet beach. The sun had long set and granted the night a clear sky twinkling with millions of stars.
“It’s an honor to be included in a Sand Queens meeting for the very first time,” Dominica replied, her subtle accent sharping the ends of each word.
“I’m tickled you wanted to spend it with us, Dominica, but we could have thrown you a true bachelorette party.” Opal regarded the beautiful Cuban woman, considering her a breath of fresh air for Sunset Cove. Dominica’s family and friends weren’t due to arrive in town for another few days, so there was no way Opal would have let her spend the evening alone while the guys celebrated.
Dominica giggled nervously. “No thank you. This is more my style.”
The women settled down and studied the ocean before them. Opal loved how the foamy crests of the whitecaps appeared to glow at night as the moonlight danced along the top of the water. With each languid roll of the waves touching the shore and the subtle roar off in the distance on a melodious repeat, she could have easily closed her eyes and dozed off.
“Has Carter told you where y’all are going yet for the honeymoon?” Sophia spoke, breaking the trance as she began handing out thermoses filled with her homemade hot chocolate.
Dominica took one and held it in both hands. “We’ve done our fair share of traveling the world. I wanted something more private and cozy, so he’s taking me to the mountains.”
“That is so sweet,” Josie commented as she passed out thick slices of pumpkin br
ead.
“How romantic.” Opal swooned a bit before focusing on the treat. She took a deep inhale of the spicy aroma before taking a bite.
“Isn’t a log cabin in the mountains a little cliché?” Sophia added with a dramatic eye roll.
Opal scoffed. “Don’t be so cynical. Just because you’ve had a rough patch with Ty doesn’t mean you have the right to rain on Dominica’s romance parade.”
“Seriously, Sophia. That wasn’t nice,” Josie spoke quietly.
Sophia dropped her uppity air for a look of remorse. “I’m sorry, Dominica. I didn’t mean anything by that. The only cliché here is me. High-profile couple on the rocks.” She groaned at her own angst and slumped further down in her chair. Sophia worked for a successful PR firm that represented some of the biggest names in the professional sports world, namely her NFL star husband. Those two couldn’t do one thing without the media reporting on it and padding it with false accusations.
“Is Ty coming into town anytime soon? It’s been ages since we’ve seen him.” Josie spoke in her soft voice again. She towered over the others by almost a foot but had a knack for making herself seem small. Opal had been praying that the woman would grow in her confidence, because she was one spectacular woman in Opal’s eyes.
“Probably not. They’re gearing up for the playoffs. Besides, the only way I could probably get him in this town would be to knock him out and have him shipped here.” Sophia flipped her hoodie over her head, which was already shielded by a hat.
Opal studied her friend. Even though the ball cap and hoodie hid most of the brunette’s features, her mouth was set in a hard line and her slouching shoulders were indicators that something was weighing her down. “What happened?”
Sophia shrugged. “I suggested we move back here and try for a fresh start, but Ty’s dead set against it. Said I was being selfish for even suggesting it.” After a brief pause, she admitted, “Things just aren’t like they were in the beginning . . .”
“Aww, sweetie, maybe after Ty gets past the playoffs, things will smooth out for y’all.” Opal reached over and held Sophia’s hand, hoping to offer some comfort. She knew her friend well enough to know there was more going on than what she had mentioned.
“I hope so, for Collin’s sake. The poor baby isn’t handling all this uncertainty very well. He’s been acting out.”
“Collin’s a toddler. He’s supposed to act out.” Opal winked at her and the women laughed.
“This is true,” Josie agreed before taking a sip of hot chocolate.
The laughter broke the sad mood and the friends moved the focus back to Dominica and her approaching big day. She happily chatted about the wedding details while everyone enjoyed the pumpkin bread.
After about an hour, the snacks were long gone and Josie was nodding off to sleep.
“Ugh! We are too young to be this boring!” Sophia flicked a hand at their semicircle of chairs.
Opal was ready for when she spoke the words. Giving her friends a rascally look, she asked, “How about something cliché then?”
Within the hour, the three Sand Queens and their honorary queen were pulling off said cliché while sneaking around the parking lot at the Palmetto Fine Arts Camp, which was currently under construction. Tonight, it was serving as the playground for Carter’s bachelor party. Music boomed from the woods, where Opal knew the guys were goofing off. Their boisterous yelling and raucous laughter blended into the songs blaring out from the camp speakers. Luckily, they were in the middle of the country with no residents for miles, so they could successfully act like hooligans without disturbing the peace.
Opal handed each woman a handful of washable paint pens and orders to give each guy’s vehicle a feminine touch. She looked down the row and easily spotted Lincoln’s Jeep. Eyes set on the goal, she hurried over and began with the tire cover, turning the black circle into a neon-green peace sign with hot-pink accents. After that, she worked on the passenger’s side, thinking Lincoln was the true hippie and needed reminding of that fact. Fluffy flowers and hearts decorated the side before she moved to the driver’s side. A large rainbow took up the back part. Once she finished it, she scooted up to the door and decided on adding another peace sign with the word groovy underneath it.
Proud of herself, Opal stood up and came face-to-face with a scary sight—glaring eyes and severely pinched brows watching her from the other side of the driver’s window.
Yelping, her feet cleared the ground by at least a foot. “What are you doing in there?” Opal whisper-screamed while clutching her chest.
One of those thick eyebrows arched up while the rest of his face remained frozen in the scowl. “It’s my Jeep. You mind telling me what you’re doing to it?”
She hid the paint behind her back and forced an unsteady smile to her lips. “Making it pretty?”
“Get in,” Lincoln demanded. A combination of guilt and shock had her scurrying around to the other side and hopping inside. Before she closed her door, he barked another order. “Leave the contraband outside.”
Opal dropped the paint pens, wiped her guilt on her jeans, and shut the door. She steeled herself, waiting for him to lay into her, but after a few minutes passed in silence, she chanced a glance at him. With his head resting on the steering wheel, the thick locks of his hair served as a curtain around his face, blocking out whatever was bothering him.
“Linc . . . what . . . ?” She began to ask him what was wrong, but the past two months had taught her a thing or two on how to maneuver the rocky terrain of Lincoln Cole, and asking that question would only plow her right into a roadblock. Clearing her throat, she began again. “What’s so wrong with painting up this ugly beast?”
He tilted his head just enough for a dark eye to peep from the mass of brown hair. “Please tell me it’s washable paint.”
“I’m assuming.” She kept her reply short, hoping to draw the other eye out. She had to bite her lip to hold back the giggle when it actually worked.
Lifting his head, Lincoln said, “It better be some fine art skills then.” His dry retort was her undoing and sent the giggle slipping out.
“I can’t believe you were hiding out here and caught me red-handed. I officially fail at pranking.”
“Who says I’m hiding?” His voice was sharp and his glare sharper.
“Aren’t you?” She continued to navigate the conversation with caution.
Lincoln let out a rugged sigh and leaned his head back. Eyes fastened to the roof, he muttered, “They’re having a paintball gun battle in the woods.”
Opal’s first thought was that surely there was a tactic he could use to perch hidden somewhere so he could participate, but then reality popped her in the back of the head from her foolish thought. And that made her want to pop Carter in the back of his head for not considering their evening’s entertainment choice wouldn’t be very entertaining for a soldier still healing from wounds he endured during an actual battle. Surely Lincoln found nothing amusing about playing war games in the dark.
“Where do the guys think you’re at?” she asked after a punctuated silence swept through the vehicle.
“I told Carter my leg hurt and I was calling it a night.”
“Is it hurting?”
“It’s always hurting,” he mumbled, pushing both hands through his hair. After giving the ends a swift tug, seemingly to demand they stay out of his eyes, Lincoln reached over and cranked the Jeep. He glanced in the rearview mirror and began backing out.
“Whoa!” Opal’s hand lashed out and gripped his forearm. “I’m here with Josie, Sophia, and Dominica.”
He ignored her protests as he circled the parking lot until finding the other pranksters working on painting an ocean along the back of Carter’s tailgate. He rolled his window down and said, “I have Opal.”
Josie’s eyes bugged out, taking in the side of the Jeep where Opal knew her crime was on vivid display. “What are you going to do with her?” Her question came out all squeaky as she fidgete
d.
“Don’t know yet. Depends on how mouthy she gets.” Lincoln rolled the window up, leaving Josie standing there looking like a frightened kitten while Sophia and Dominica hid behind the side of Carter’s truck.
Opal gave her friends the meanest look she could conjure and mouthed, “Cowards.” She turned her sights on her surly driver. “Look, Linc, I’m sorry for decorating your Jeep. I’ll wash it all nice and clean tomorrow. Promise.” Her hand moved to the door handle, ready to make a break for it once he reached the first stop sign.
“Nah. I’d rather you make this wrong right another way.”
Her belly flipped, thinking the worst. “I’m not that kinda girl, Lincoln Cole. You let me out right now!”
He snorted with no humor at her demand and kept driving. Didn’t even come to a complete stop at the sign, so there was no way she could escape unless she was willing to test out her tuck-and-roll skills. Knowing that would end in an epic fail, she reached over and pulled on her seat belt and then commenced to huffing and puffing in protest.
Lincoln kept his eyes on the road and finally gave some explanation. “Back home, when I’d have a lousy night, I’d take the top off the Jeep and cruise back roads with the radio cranked up. You know of any good back roads around here, Opal?”
Opal uncrossed her arms and sat a little straighter. “If dirt roads will make my wrongs right, then I’ll lead you all over this here fine county.”
“Deal,” he agreed. “I’m gonna swing by the firehouse to lose the top, and then you can lead the way.”
She perked up some more. “Can I drive?”
“No. You can copilot.”
Her shoulders drooped a bit. “Fine.” She only managed probably the shortest pout in history by the time they pulled up in front of the firehouse. A night cruising around with Lincoln was more appealing to her than it probably should be. The fluttering of her heartbeat and the smile stretching her lips couldn’t be stanched if her life depended on it.
As soon as he parked off to the side of the two-story brick building, they both hopped out and made quick work of removing the top.
