by Theresa
She swiped it out of his hand. “Not for long.” She took a couple, popping one in her mouth with a satisfied smile before handing them back. “So tell me, Lucas, other than black jelly beans, what’s your favorite food?”
“Easy. Tacos.”
Ella’s hand froze halfway to her mouth. “You’re kidding?”
“There are many things I kid about, but tacos aren’t one of them. Why what’s your favorite food?” he asked.
She looked at him with sparkling wide eyes. “Tacos.”
“Come on. You’re just saying that.”
“You can call one of my best friends and ask them yourself. We have Taco Tuesday where we gorge ourselves with tacos and drink margaritas.”
“Sounds like you know how to live.”
“You only have one life, might as well make the best of it.”
He looked at her beautiful dark brown eyes that he was sure brought many men to their knees. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said.
“Do you have any traditions with your friends? Assuming you have friends that is.”
“I have friends.”
“Just checking.”
“And actually, I do. My two best buds and I try to go on a camping trip every year.”
Her gaze drifted up and down his button up shirt and settled on his shoes for a moment before moving back to his eyes. “Camping, really? I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the outdoorsy type.”
“Didn’t you ever learn not to judge a book by it’s cover?” he asked.
She tilted her head, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders. “I did, but as you already know, I’m really good at figuring people out, and you don’t strike me as the sleeping in a tent type of guy.”
“What do I strike you as then?”
“The roughing it in a four-star accommodation with room service kind of guy.”
He laughed. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Good to know,” she said, meeting his gaze a humorous smile on her face. “I hate that kind of guy.”
Their eyes stayed locked as if an invisible force was keeping them there and neither were attempting to fight against the resistance. A minute later—or maybe longer; it was hard to tell—Ella cleared her throat and broke the connection. She fidgeted with the small golden heart that dangled from her necklace, rubbing the shiny metal between her thumb and forefinger.
“Have you ever been camping?” he asked, not wanting the little time they had left together to get lost to silence. He was enjoying her company and whether she knew it or not, she was keeping his mind occupied. Before he got on this bus he couldn’t stop wondering about how it would be to stay with his grandfather—a man he only knew through letters and phone calls.
“Once,” Ella said, “when I was seven. And we went all out. I mean we totally roughed it. My dad set up a tent in the backyard and ran an extension cord from the house to the tent.”
“What did you need an extension cord for?”
“The TV of course.”
He laughed. “A TV?”
“And a VCR. I mean how else were we supposed to watch Free Willy?”
“Now that’s roughing it. I’m surprised you survived to talk about it.”
“It was pretty bleak, but somehow we managed,” she said.
He smiled, appreciating the joking tone in her voice and the way playfulness highlighted her face. They fell into easy conversation, and before he knew it the bus was pulling into the depot.
She leaned down, picking up her bag and placing it on her lap. The bus came to a stop and she turned toward the aisle. A couple hours ago he couldn’t wait for his hellish day of travel to be over and now he didn’t want it to end.
People began filing off the bus, and he grabbed his stuff and stepped into the aisle. Ella pushed the strap of her purse onto her shoulder and he nodded to it.
“Is that all you have?” he asked.
“This is it.”
“You travel light.”
She shrugged. “It was only a day trip.”
The aisle cleared, and with no one else in the seats behind them, Lucas stepped away from the seat and stood back to let Ella go first. She slid out from the little world they’d created on the ride, and he followed her off the bus.
“Well,” she said, turning to him, “it was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise.”
“Okay then.” She waved awkwardly and spun around. An unexpected rush of panic filled him, and he called after her. She turned back to him, her long brown hair floating around her.
He moved toward her, knowing that if he let her walk away he would forever question his stupidity for letting her slip out of his life.
“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?” he asked.
Her dark brown eyes focused on him, her eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. She was damn beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman he’d ever known. And somehow, he’d been lucky enough to talk to her for a couple hours.
A couple of hours wasn’t enough.
He had nothing to lose, so he hit her with honesty. “I couldn’t walk away from here without asking. I know I would wonder for the rest of my life what would’ve happened if I just asked. So what do you say? Coffee?”
Her teeth slid over her plump bottom lip. She nibbled at it for a moment, then met his gaze. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“I understand,” he said, and he did, but it didn’t take away the disappointment that was currently engulfing him in a sad pathetic cloud of rejection. He swallowed down the defeat and nodded.
“No, it’s not like that,” she said. “If I don’t get back soon my family will worry.”
“You’re not married, are you?” In the entire time on the bus, he hadn’t thought to ask, but she wasn’t wearing a ring; he’d checked.
Ella laughed. “Not married. Just have three overprotective brothers and a grandfather who worry too much.”
“That’s a lot of people looking out for you.” He had no idea what that was like, but imagined it had its perks. “That must be really nice.”
Her eyes softened. “It is, sometimes. Other times they make me want to rip my hair out.”
“Can I get your number then?” Now that he knew for sure she wasn’t married, he wasn’t going to walk away knowing he’d never see her again. Not when he’d felt alive for the first time in a long time just sitting on a bus talking.
She smiled. “You’re persistent.”
“I know a good thing when I see it.”
“Quite the sweet talker, too.”
“Is it working?” he asked.
She tapped her chin then held out her hand. His eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Give me your phone,” she said.
He didn’t hesitate, though maybe he should have since he honestly didn’t know her from a hole in the wall, but he felt he knew enough that she wouldn’t take off with it. She didn’t. She clicked a few buttons then the sound of a vaguely familiar pop song echoed through the air.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “Now I have your number. And mine is in your call history.” She tapped a few more buttons on his phone then handed it back with a stifled laugh.
He took the phone and looked down at the screen a smile curving the edges of his mouth. “Awesome bus girl?”
“I think it has a nice ring.”
She typed into her phone and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He made a move for her phone, and she held it above their heads, and though she was tall, she wasn’t taller than him. A blush spread across her cheeks, her lips pursed. . He moved quickly and snatched the phone from her hand. He couldn’t hold back the laugh when he glanced at the screen.
“Cute bus guy?” he asked with a dumb smile forcing its way across his face. “You think I’m cute?”
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I’m happy I did.”
“I really should go.” She backed away from him slowly and waved. He stood there, watching until she got into a black Mustang then texted her.
I think you’re cute, too.
Chapter 3
Willow Cove population not nearly enough. Lucas thought as the cab headed into the small town.
Lucas felt like he was transported onto a movie set. He didn’t think it was possible for towns to actually look like this. There was literally an ice cream shop where the building was made to look like a pink cup filled with vanilla soft serve. And there was a cherry on top. Of course, there was. Why wouldn’t there be? It just added to the ridiculousness of it all.
Street signs were pieces of wood nailed to a longer piece of wood and hand painted.
Part of him could understand why his father wanted to leave. This place seemed more like a theme park than a place to live. A large sign sat at the edge of what looked like the heart of town with the words ENTERING WILLOW COVE COME FOR THE LOBSTER ROLLS STAY FOR THE PEOPLE.
As the taxi driver, Frank—an old man with slicked back gray hair and thick lined skin—continued on and passed the sign, the town transformed into something out of a travel guide. Multi-colored buildings lined the main strip, flags and signs hung above doorways, benches sat along the sidewalk, surrounded by baskets of soon to bloom flowers. Cobblestone streets led down alleyways filled with more shops and ending at a row of docks jutting out into the water. Lobster traps were piled along the docks, and colorful buoys covered buildings like a coat of paint.
It suddenly didn’t seem so ridiculous, and when Lucas spotted the bright red signs cut out in the shapes of lobsters pointing down at Joe’s Lobster House, he imagined what life would have been like if his father had stayed in Willow Cove and taken over the restaurant.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t imagine it. His father, who spent most of his days in custom tailored suits and ate out most nights wasn’t the type of man to work in a place that’s biggest claim to fame was a lobster roll.
Joseph Prescott was a cold-hearted businessman who thrived on telling people no, especially his one and only son. Lucas spent the first twenty-one years of his life trying to please his father and make him proud. He never felt like he had, and when he’d found those unopened cards, it was like a light bulb had turned on in his head.
A man who could lie to his face, tell him his grandfather didn’t want anything to do with him, and went out of his way to make sure he never found out the truth wasn’t a man he wanted to please. Quite frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about making his dad proud.
He felt like a caged lion, stepping out into the wilderness for the first time, experiencing the feel of soft grass beneath his paws, and roaming freely with nothing blocking him at every direction.
Lucas had lived his life full of barriers set in place by his father and now, six years since that eye-opening day in his father’s office, he lived his life for himself—a concept that had once been so foreign to him.
“That’s your granddaddies place,” Frank said, pointing at the wood carved lobster signs in the distance.
“I figured as much,” Lucas said. “You know my grandfather, I assume.” It was a small town, and if it was anything like the movies or TV shows, everyone knew everyone.
“Sure do. Known Joe since we were twelve years old. He finally grew into his ears.”
Lucas laughed. “What’s he like?”
Frank met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Joe’s a good man, and don’t let town gossip convince you differently.”
“Town gossip?” Lucas asked.
“Oh you know… the he-said-she-saids and what-nots. None of it holds any ground. Just a silly competition that went too far.”
“Competition?”
Frank laughed. “You really aren’t from around here.”
Lucas had already established that earlier when he and Frank basically played a game of twenty questions in which Lucas wasn’t able to ask a single one.
“No, I’m not.”
“Your grandfather is part of a town rivalry dating back to 1968.”
“That’s the year he opened his restaurant.” Joe had told him that much in a series of letters over the years.
“Also the same year Vinny’s Lobster Shack opened its doors. It’s been an all-out battle over whose is the best ever since. The Prescotts and the Morettis don’t get along, and it’s very rare that you’re friends with both. You make a choice when you step through one of the two doors, and that choice is for life.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe so, but friendships have been lost and lovers have been pinned against each other for decades.”
“All of this over a stupid lobster roll?”
Frank gasped. “First lesson of Willow Cove: don’t ever disrespect the lobster roll. Better yet let’s stick with lobster in general.”
“I didn’t realize I needed to be schooled,” Lucas joked, but when he met Frank’s blue eyes in the mirror he knew he was far from joking.
“Second lesson. Have you seen Willow Cove?”
“We’re here aren’t we?” Lucas asked completely confused, wondering if maybe Frank was hitting the bottle before making his rounds.
“Not the town,” he scoffed. “The movie.”
Lucas had heard about it, and if he remembered correctly, it’d come out in the late nineties. “Can’t say I have,” he said.
“Stream it or whatever it is you youngsters do these days and watch it. That movie put us on the map. Some call it a cult classic, but we here in Willow Cove call it the best damn thing that ever happened to us.”
“I’ll put it on the list,” Lucas said, surprised he was actually considering it and not just saying that to appease Frank. “Anything else I should know?” he asked with genuine interest.
“One thing and probably the most important.”
Lucas met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m listening.”
“If you happen to bump into a Moretti, it’s best to keep walking. You don’t want to get tangled in that mess.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Frank gave him a nod. Lucas doubted the whole feud was as bad as Frank was making it out to be. Just an old man with nothing better to do than spread gossip.
Lucas focused his attention out the window. The multi-colored shops gave way to front yards and driveways, leading to houses that overlooked the water. There was much he didn’t know but one thing he was definitely sure of was that he wasn’t in L.A. anymore.
He glanced down at his phone to check the time when he noticed a new text message. Expecting it to be his partner he opened it and was pleasantly surprised when it was Ella.
Good to know. Hope everything goes well with your grandfather.
A girl he met not even five hours ago showed more compassion in that time than either of his parents had his whole life. There was something about her that was special, and he was damn happy that he happened upon that bus.
He typed a response in his phone.
Well find out soon enough. Almost there.
He hit send, and a couple seconds later a new text appeared.
Fingers crossed.
He pictured her crossing her fingers, long hair blowing across her face, a big encouraging smile directed at him.
“Here we are,” Frank said, snapping Lucas out of his daydream. He took a deep breath, ready to finally meet face-to-face the grandfather he knew so little about. It had been years coming, and while he wished he could find a way to recover all the lost years, he was grateful for what was ahead of them.
Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He grabbed a twenty and held it out to Frank, but Frank waved his hand in refusal. “First ride is on me.”
“I couldn’t,” Lucas said with a shake of his head. “Please. You came so far out of your way.” He held the twenty over the seat and closer to Frank.
Frank didn’t budge, throwing a glance over his sh
oulder. “You can and you will. Just make sure to use me in the future, and it’ll be worth my while.”
Reluctantly, Lucas shoved the twenty back into his wallet. “You got a deal.” Lucas shook Frank’s hand and slid out of the backseat. Frank popped the trunk and once Lucas had all his belongings, he tapped the roof of the bright orange cab.
Frank gave a beep as he drove off down the road. Lucas turned to the house—a large brown Victorian with white accents and a wraparound porch. Entirely too big for one man.
There were two rocking chairs to the right side of the porch, and Lucas wondered if his grandfather ever sat in them and with whom. For all he knew, he was all alone out here with no family to rely on.
Not anymore. Lucas was going to change that. There was no reason for him to be alone in the world anymore. His dad had tried to keep them apart but he’d failed, and Lucas found satisfaction in standing here, knowing if his dad ever knew he’d probably flip a gasket.
Knots twisted in his stomach, and while he was excited to finally get to meet the man he’d developed a relationship with over the past few years, he was also a little scared. An emotion that took him by surprise, but if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn’t all that surprising.
He didn’t want to admit it, but what if his grandfather looked at him and only saw a product of his father, a man who completely erased him from his life? The thought poked at his insecurities and swirled around in his mind.
Before he could think on it any longer, the front door opened and his grandfather stepped out onto the porch. Dressed in a bright green Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants, Joe Prescott walked down his steps without hesitation. He moved well for someone in his seventies. His gray hair was combed back, revealing a prominent forehead. Dark blue eyes softened as he took Lucas in. A smile formed beneath his bushy mustache.
Lucas moved to meet him halfway. “Hey,” he said as they approached each other. Lucas went to hug him then hesitated, not sure what the proper greeting was. Maybe a handshake would be better. Or just a simple “hey” would suffice. His father was not an overly affectionate man, and maybe he got that from his old man.
