by Tara Sivec
Help me… I’m dying.
“Is it okay with you ladies if I borrow Birdie for a minute?” Putz asks, his eyes never leaving mine, even though he’s talking to my sister and Tess.
“A minute?” Tess snorts. “Man, I was just starting to like you again, and now you’re saying you only need a minute? Run, Birdie, run!”
Wren and Tess are both snorting and laughing now, but Putz and I ignore them, and he silently nods toward the back of the building where my mom disappeared and where I heard her golf cart putter to life and zoom away right after. I uncross my legs and slide off the end of the table like I’m in a trance when he turns and starts heading that way, following behind him and ignoring my sister when she laughs herself right of the bench again as soon as I walk by.
When we’re around the back of the building and out of sight and earshot from Wren and Tess, Putz stops by the locked back door of the Dip and Twist and turns to face me, and I stop a few feet away from him, swaying a little bit when I come to a halt. He starts to jerk toward me with his arms out, but I quickly smack one hand against the brick next to me and hold the other one up in the air to stop him. I don’t need him anywhere near me, and I definitely don’t need him putting his hands on me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, taking a few deep breaths before I lower my hand that’s keeping him at bay, but I keep one on the building just in case the vodka decides otherwise.
“Two Sip and Bitches in one day must be rough,” Putz muses, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his athletic shorts when he realizes I’m not going to fall.
“Yeah, well, we only got to bitch at the first one, since we were at work,” I remind him. “We made up for the lack of sipping at this one. Maybe a little too well.”
There’s a small porch light above the back door of the shop in between us. It doesn’t give off much light, but it’s enough for me to see that Putz hasn’t taken his eyes off my face and one of his sneaker-covered feet is tapping nervously against the concrete.
I hear his voice hot against my ear earlier telling me he actually wasn’t okay with me dating Bradley, and I have to press my palm harder against the warm bricks before my knees give out, his eyes still locked right on mine.
And then I remember that phone call two years ago, where I asked him to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t be serious about Bradley and told him to give me the name of any other possible dating prospects, and he said nothing. He gave me his blessing, and then he walked out of my life.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Putz asks, removing one of his hands from his pocket long enough to rub the back of his neck, looking nervous and adorable, but I have to remain strong.
I’m not going down that road again, remember? And Tess and Wren were talking out of their drunk asses all night with all that ridiculous nonsense.
“Booze. Lots and lots of booze. That’s pretty much the only thing occupying my brain right now, Putz. Thanks for asking,” I reply flippantly.
All of a sudden, I’m tripping over my feet as I scramble backward when he closes the distance between us in the blink of an eye, my back bumping into the bricks and Putz’s hands smacking into the wall on either side of my head, caging me in like he did earlier in the bar, all of that adorable nervousness gone and a little of that sexy pissed-off annoyance from this afternoon coming back. But he’s closer this time, or maybe my drunk brain just wants him to be closer, but either way, I can feel the heat from his strong body as he holds himself over me, his chest brushing against mine with every inhale he takes, my nipples hardening, wishing it was his tongue brushing against them instead. My eyes flutter closed, and my head thumps back against the bricks when he dips his face, and his mouth is right against the shell of my ear.
“Stop fucking calling me Putz. I thought we were past that now.”
Hot breath, small growl. Cue the goose bumps, clench the thighs, and hold on tight to the damn bricks behind you. What in the holy hell is happening right now?
“What… what are you doing?” I whisper, feeling him nuzzle his nose against that sensitive spot right below my earlobe, making me let out a small whimper and rub my thighs together.
Everything is hot and aching… my breasts, my skin…. My clit is pulsing, my fingers digging into the bricks where I keep my hands plastered down by my sides, wishing I could grab the back of his head and make his lips, which still hover by my ear, latch onto the side of my neck, and slide my fingers between my thighs with the other, gathering all the wetness he’s created to rub away the pulsing ache in my clit until I come, screaming his name. Holy shit, he needs to move away.
He repeats what he did in the bar earlier, sliding his cheek against mine as he pulls his head back until he’s looking down at me again, and I can see a muscle tic in his jaw.
“What I’m doing is absolutely nothing until you’re sober and remember every sweet goddamn second of it.”
All the air in my lungs leaves me with a whoosh as Palmer immediately pushes off the wall and steps away from me. He takes all that heat and delicious smell right along with him and leaves a whole shit-ton of what the fuck and wet panties behind.
“I can trust you three will not be driving your golf carts home, correct?”
I want to roll my eyes and tell him we’re drunk but we’re not stupid, but all I can do is nod.
“And if you happen to find yourselves in the middle of Summersweet Pond and have no idea where your clothing went, let your mother sleep and call me instead,” he adds, starting to walk away.
He’s a few steps past me when I finally remember how to use my voice.
“You blocked me, remember?”
He pauses, looking back at me.
“Yeah, well now I unblocked you.”
My flustered, confused, and turned-on body is still completely flattened against the brick wall of the Dip and Twist as he turns and heads back over to the picnic table area, where I realize Tess and Wren are still laughing like idiots.
When he disappears around the corner, my knees finally give out and I slide down the wall until my butt hits the cement, curling my legs up against my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
“Birdie!” Wren shouts, coming around the corner a few minutes later. “Call Mom! I can’t find our bikes, and we need a ride home!”
CHAPTER 12
Palmer
“Put it in the hole.”
“How am I supposed to woo Tess on our date later with a food baby? I regret everything,” Bodhi moans, rubbing his stomach.
I chuckle, kicking my feet up on the railing in front of us, crossing them at the ankles, and taking a drink of my icy cold bottled beer. “Just because Eddy’s has all-you-can-eat crab legs doesn’t mean you should actually eat all that you can,” I remind him, flipping the brim of my hat around to the back so I can fully enjoy the sun setting out over the ocean.
After I finished work today, Bodhi met me at Dockside Eddy’s for dinner. Located on one of the permanent resident ends of Summersweet Island, Eddy’s is surrounded by cottages and not too far from the school, hospital, and other island facilities. It sits right on the boat dock for residents, and even though they won’t kick any tourists out if they stumble this far away from town, it’s pretty much known as a place just for local residents to relax and unwind far away from strangers.
“You can’t just tempt me with a good time like all-you-can-eat crab legs and expect me not to party,” he says, rocking his chair back on two legs. “The hot crab dip, ultimate nachos, mussels, clams, oyster Po Boy, and fish tacos might have been overkill though.”
Dockside Eddy’s is one of the best fresh seafood and oyster bars I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been in seafood restaurants all over the world. The best thing about it is it’s low-key and rustic with nautical artifacts hung all over the mismatched clapboard walls inside and a huge covered deck with a few ceiling fans running along the whole backside that looks out over the ocean. The building looks like it’s taken the b
runt of every hurricane that has ever passed through here, and the entire thing leans a little to the left, but it’s relaxed, and comfortable. Jimmy Buffett is usually playing softly from the sound system, and it’s the best place to unwind at the end of the day and catch up on the local gossip. A few feet away at another table, there’s even a man I recognize who works on the ferry, finishing his crab cake dinner with his sad-eyed Basset Hound sitting by the legs of his chair next to a bowl of water the waitress brought out for the panting dog a few minutes ago.
“I’ve been busy bribing Tess the last few days to go on this date with me tonight, and you’ve been busy getting your ass grabbed by Miss Abigail. I haven’t had a chance to ask you how it went when you tracked Birdie down the other night at the ice cream place.”
I smile against the glass bottle pressed to my lips when I think about how adorably passive aggressive Birdie is being by scheduling me daily lessons with that grabby-handed woman. My smile falls as I bring the beer away from my mouth to answer Bodhi’s question.
“It didn’t.” I sigh, watching a local tie his boat up to the dock, help his wife out of the vessel, and the two walk hand-in-hand up the ramp to the door to the bar. “I found her at the Dip and Twist, but she was drinking vodka slushes like they were water and clearly wasn’t processing things yet. Couldn’t have much of a conversation with her at that point.”
When I walked away from Birdie after blowing her mind two days ago at SIG, I went back to my cottage and took a shower to cool off, then felt like an asshole for walking away from her like that. I couldn’t handle pacing in my cottage all night until I could see her at work the next day. I just wanted to know if she fully understood why I ended our friendship two years ago and wasn’t still making up dumb shit in her head.
I don’t want to rush her. It’s bad enough I know I scared the hell out of her by being all aggressive and backing her up into the brick wall. As soon as she called me Putz, I lost my mind. And then I lost it again when I just had to get closer to her, brush up against her hot body, and run my nose along her jaw, forcing my tongue not to dart out and taste her by clenching my teeth together so hard they almost cracked.
“Pretty sure I freaked her out by getting all up on her again,” I mutter, annoyed with myself that I just couldn’t keep my distance like a fully developed human and acted like a caveman.
“Oh, I don’t think I saw any freaking out happening when you backed her into the bar and smelled her like a drug-sniffing K9.” Bodhi laughs, letting out a loud belch and then a contented sigh while he rubs his seafood belly. “She got the lady shivers; I saw it. You’re a sexy beast. I’d get the lady shivers if you nuzzled me too. Come here and let’s try it out.”
I smack Bodhi away with a laugh when he leans over the arm of his chair to try to tug me closer to him. And then I choke a little on my laugh when I remember the way Birdie shivered and made a tiny little whimpering sound behind the Dip and Twist when I ran my nose against that soft little spot of skin right under her ear.
Because you scared the holy hell out of her, you idiot!
“At least she hasn’t been running away from me at work the last few days.” I shrug, finishing off my beer and exchanging it for a new bottle from the tin bucket that used to be filled with ice and six beers and is now filled with cold water and a lot less beer.
Birdie has been busier than ever at the golf course, getting ready for a huge annual three-day golf outing the Board of Education puts on for all the Summersweet Island teachers and anyone who works for the school and their families. All the employees at SIG have been busier than ever, getting ready for this event to make it as special as possible to thank the teachers and school employees for all of the hard work they put in all throughout the previous year, and to get them pumped for the upcoming year.
Since Birdie’s promotion will require her to handle the planning, organizing, promoting, and marketing of this event going forward, Greg is letting her take the reins this year as another way to prove herself. It’s been amazing to watch her the last few days, even if it’s meant we’ve barely had any time together. I’ve seen from a distance how much she’s been busting her ass while I gave my lessons and found new ways to avoid Miss Abigail, and we’ve had a few work-related discussions when she’s had to ask for my help setting something up when I’ve been in between clients and waiting around in the bar.
When I think about how Birdie jumps every time she hears my voice and always takes a step back from me as I move in closer just to talk to her, I curse myself again for being so fucking assertive with her twice. It’s like as soon as I admitted I lied about not caring if she dated Douche Dick and it’s the reason why I pushed her away, someone opened up the floodgates and there’s no stopping everything I feel about her and everything I want to do to her from pouring out of me.
“Birdie!”
Almost as if everyone at Dockside Eddy’s has been watching a live feed of my brain on the TVs inside instead of a baseball game, the patrons in by the bar all shout the woman’s name starring in every thought in my head.
Bodhi and I turn in our chairs, and since there aren’t any walls on the part of the building where the deck is attached, we can see inside and everything happening. And what’s currently happening is a gorgeous blonde walking through Dockside Eddy’s, turning heads and being greeted like she’s Norm on that old show Cheers my dad used to watch reruns of.
“Oh, did I forget to mention my date with Tess is starting here, and my bribery also included getting her to bring your girl with her tonight?” Bodhi prompts from next to me. “Just wanted to remind you I’m on your side, but you still have to work for it a little.”
“What in the hell did you bribe Tess with for that?”
I don’t even bother turning to look at him, and he just replies with a laugh that should probably make me nervous. I just barely notice Tess and Wren walking through Dockside Eddy’s as well. My eyes are glued to Birdie, and my legs and feet suddenly have a mind of their own, slowly lifting me from my chair until I’m standing so I can get a better view.
Her blonde hair is hanging soft and wavy and loose all around her shoulders, and I watch her swipe a long lock out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear before hugging an older woman who gets up from a table to greet her. I’ve watched Birdie’s skin get a little more golden in the hot sun the last few days working outside, and with the white, off-the-shoulder, one-piece shorts thing she’s wearing that I think women call a romper, she’s got a whole hell of a lot of sun-kissed skin showing and looks like a beach goddess.
She’s stunning, and she takes my breath away, and it’s getting harder and harder to give her time to process things even though it’s only been a few days. I want to charge across the deck and up inside the bar, and I want kiss the hell out of her so she’ll stop processing and start understanding. I’ve been keeping things cool and casual and light and easy at work so she doesn’t freak out, but maybe I’m the one who’s freaking out.
I spent the last two years shutting these feelings down and forgetting what an incredible human being she is so I could try to move on with my life and not miss her every second of every goddamn day. I thought I would come back here and slowly get to know her again and let those feelings build, but as I watch her walk through the bar, stopping to chat with everyone, even pausing to help the waitress out and clear a table, I should have known I’d never stand a chance coming back here and not falling fast. Why did I ever think she’d change and become someone else I’d have to get to know or fall for all over again?
Birdie has always been a hard worker, even when I first met her and she was a fifteen-year-old caddie who could barely lift a bag of golf clubs but insisted she could do everything a boy could do and better. And she did. Every damn day, she earned more tips than her male counterparts, and it wasn’t just because she was young and hot, and creepy, dirty old men liked to stare at her. She worked twice as hard as everyone else, always offering to help in other departments,
doing extra work and learning different jobs on the course during her breaks without getting paid, just because she didn’t like not knowing how something worked. It drove her insane if someone asked her a question at SIG and she didn’t know the answer.
I watch Birdie get pulled in a hundred different directions as she walks through Dockside Eddy’s, her smile never faltering and the greetings of hugs never stopping even though she’s trying to relax and sit down after a long day of work just like everyone else. I think about how she does the same at SIG, always getting pulled away from something she’s doing and how she never complains or says no to anyone. She helps wherever she’s needed, and she gives whatever is asked of her, even if it takes everything out of her.
Even with how busy she’s been at SIG, I’ve also watched her take a pile of work with her and rush out of the clubhouse to take her nephew Owen to the mainland for a baseball game or to the other side of the island for practice when Wren has been too busy at the ice cream shop. Something Birdie has done a hundred times over the years and will probably continue to do, always putting her family first, and always doing whatever she can to make her single-mom sister’s life easier.
Because that’s who Birdie Bennett is. And that’s why I fell in love with her when I was a fifteen-year-old kid who didn’t know his ass from his elbow. She always took care of me, she always made sure I knew her friends were my friends and her family was my family, and she went out of her way to make sure I never felt one second of loneliness when I was on Summersweet Island. She even managed to do it from hundreds and thousands of miles away, over phone calls and texts and video chats, checking to make sure I was okay and that I knew I had a home and people who cared about me no matter how far away I was.
Even now. Even when she’s scared, and confused, and still trying to forgive me for the hurt I caused her by ending our friendship, and even with how busy and hectic her life is, she’s still helping me. She’s still taking care of me. A golf cart showed up at my cottage the morning after the drunk Dip and Twist incident, with the keys in an envelope under the visor, and I know that was Birdie’s doing. But it wasn’t just any golf cart. It was my baby. My obnoxious, supped-up golf cart and the first big purchase I made with the first big purse I won. My dad was so annoyed, because he wanted me to spend my money on something he thought I should, like a boat or a car. No, thank you. I wanted a black golf cart with bright blue flames painted all over it, a tricked-out sound system that got Birdie and me in trouble more than once for blasting Dr. Dre through town, twenty-three-inch tires with fifteen-inch spinning rims, black-and-blue leather racing seats, and multicolored LED lights running all under the cart roof and along the undercarriage that would glow against the asphalt as we raced around the island. I fell to my knees and wept when I saw her in my cottage driveway, thankful that Birdie didn’t key the shit out of it, smash the headlights in with a 9-iron, or let Tess light it on fire since I’ve been gone. Baby Blue was just as beautiful as I left her, had a full tank of gas, and even looked like she just had a recent wash and polish.
