“You need some tackle? Did you bring any rods with you?”
The man studied the fluorescent fishing gear. “No, I guess I need some of that too.”
Haven knew this time the sigh had escaped her lips. She closed her eyes. Time to refocus. “Ok, well let me put these nets behind the register for you, and you can tell me all about your fishing needs and we’ll get started on that next.”
She trudged to the register and placed the nets against the wall. Her father was never around when it was convenient, and there was actually a customer who needed help. She knew exactly where he was. Anger singed along her temples.
The Pennsylvania man was focused on the filament lines and silver weights. She had at least a second to find the paper with the freshly minted lyrics. Dropping to the floor, she reached under the bottom of the shelf and raked her fingertips along the floorboards. She hit something soft and gooey. Ick. Travis needed to do a better job with the floors. It had probably been a year since he had gotten under here.
“Miss, do you think my grandson should have this graphite rod or something a little heavier?”
Still on her hands and knees, she shouted over the counter, “On my way.”
As usual, the lyrics would have to wait.
EVAN PULLED the handle on the campground office door. A pair of bells jingled as the door closed behind him. On the other side of a laminate desk sat a woman with short gray hair. This is not how he pictured someone named Shug. She was missing bangle bracelets, fluffy curls, and sweet perfume.
“Good morning.” He smiled at the woman who didn’t sport an ounce of makeup.
“Ahh, good morning. You must be—” Her lips twisted around as if she was trying to recall Evan’s name.
He extended his hand. “Jay. I’m Jay.”
He had settled on a cover story while he got dressed. He was going to be Jay, the writer. It was a little Hemingway-esque, but he immediately knew it was the kind of character he could easily play for as long as he was on the island. One day he would have to tell Ivy how she unknowingly helped him on this escape.
“Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Shug. My husband said he put you up in Silver Belle.”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s great.” He winced, knowing his enunciation of ma’am had slipped. He was rusty with the accent work.
“I’m kinda partial to Silver Belle, but Pearl of the Oyster is a close second in my heart. I really wanted to go with a picnic theme. Picnic at the beach.” Her hands stretched across the air in front of her. “Harry told me to have at it. He’s not much for decorating.” She giggled.
“Yep. I got the picnic part with the red checks. Very nice.”
Shug pulled a folder from the desk drawer and licked her thumb as she flipped through a few pages. “Ok, if you could fill out your name, email address, and length of stay right here.” She pointed at the open lines and twirled the folder around for Evan. “How many nights? We charge in advance.”
Evan reached for the pen she had offered. Earlier this morning he had told Harry he would stay all month, but it didn’t feel right. “I’d like to take Silver Belle for the entire summer.”
Shug jumped in her seat. “All summer? My, that’s a surprise.”
Evan kept his focus on the three lines he had to fill in.
“Did Harry tell you the nightly rate for the campers?” She had retrieved a calculator from the same desk drawer, and she began counting the rest of the summer days on the calendar out loud.
“No, but I have cash. It’s not a problem.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He would need to go into town and buy something other than boots.
The campground hostess whistled. Evan got the impression she wasn’t used to long-term camper residents. She scribbled a few numbers, and then punched them into the calculator.
“All right. If you stay until the end of August, that’s ninety-two days at sixty-five dollars a night.” She paused as if to see if Evan was going to interrupt her. “With tax and water fees, that comes to sixty-five hundred dollars.”
Evan handed her the pen. “Ok. I need to run back to Silver Belle, but I’ll bring the cash in a few minutes.”
Shug looked at him suspiciously. That was the last look he wanted to see.
“Promise. I’ll be right back.” He smiled his best movie star grin and darted out of the office door.
He jogged the trail to the camper, tugged twice on Silver Belle’s handle, and reached for his duffle bug. Everything he had was in that bag, along with several wads of cash. He formed two stacks with the bills until he had all sixty-five hundred dollars to hand to Shug. He shoved the money in his front pockets and slammed the door behind him.
The salt air hit him the same time his phone started ringing. He clenched his jaw and his fist as he pulled it from his back pocket. Emmy. He pressed decline and tucked the phone in his jeans. Emmy wasn’t going to give up until she talked to him. One of the things he had liked about her from the beginning was her persistence, but right now, it was the one thing that was pissing him off. Funny how cute, endearing things could suddenly turn into the ones that were the most aggravating. Evan smacked a mosquito against his neck as he trudged back to the campground office.
EVAN PULLED into an open space in front of Owen’s General Store. Shug had told him he could find everything he needed from beer to flashlights at the island’s largest store.
He didn’t recognize the song playing on the local station, but he liked the words. Something about summertime, sand, and dancing. It wasn’t anything like his Texas music, but the lyrics were catchy. He adjusted the volume on the radio. He liked to play it loud since he had rolled the top down, but part of staying incognito was not drawing attention to himself.
His boots hit the gravel parking lot, and he took the steps into the store two at a time. On the other side of this door was a twelve-pack with his name on it. Who cared if it was only ten in the morning? It was time to get this indefinite vacation started.
“Welcome to Owen’s,” a guy wearing an apron called across the store. He was stocking the freezer with beer.
Evan walked in his direction. “Thank you. That’s just what I was looking for.”
“Sure, man.” He handed Evan a case of beer. “Haven should be back at the register now. She can ring you up—unless there’s something else you’re shopping for today.”
Something about the store reminded him of his hometown in Texas. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what seemed so familiar. He was about as far away from Brees, Texas, as he could get.
“Actually, I have some more shopping to do.” Evan knew his list was longer than just a case of beer.
“How about I take that for you, and you can have a look around?” The clerk gripped the sides of the cardboard carton and headed toward the front of the story. “Holler if you need anything.” Evan couldn’t help but notice how friendly the guy was.
“Thanks.” Evan began browsing the outer perimeter of the store. There wasn’t much in the duffle bag he had left in the camper. A few T-shirts, another pair of jeans, his running shoes, and enough boxer briefs to make it through the week. He didn’t need much.
He eyed the wall of board shorts. Now that he was living at the beach for the summer, he would need a pair. Unless there was a red carpet event that Kelly Saint-James insisted he participate in the black tie selection, he had no interest in clothes. T-shirts and jeans fit every occasion. It felt strange to stand in front of the wall display of bathing suits. He reached for a navy pair with a white stripe on the side pocket. They were simple. He needed simple.
Behind the swimwear was a rack of suntan lotion—something else he hadn’t thought to throw in his bag. Sullen’s Grove was the original destination; he reminded himself he hadn’t planned on driving until the road ran out.
On the other side of the dressing room was a stand stacked with flip-flops. Exactly what he needed to fit in on the island. Beachgoers didn’t wear boots, especially not fiftee
n-hundred-dollar designer boots. Evan glanced down at the brown leather encasing his feet before grabbing a pair of tan flip-flops with a rainbow logo on the side.
He strolled back to the other side of the store where the grocery aisles were. Yesterday he had avoided junk food. Jake, his personal trainer for the past two years, would punch him if he saw Evan eyeing the row of cookies and chips. The hell with that. Jake wasn’t here to force raw eggs and protein shakes down his throat. Evan tossed two bags of corn chips in his arms.
Trying to balance all of the items between his hands, he dumped his shopping selections on the counter. He looked up in time to hear an auburn-haired girl with the prettiest frown he had ever seen, curse under her breath. One of the bottles of lotion rolled off the pile and bumped against her hand, jarring the pen she was using against the paper.
He thought he heard her sigh. She scooped up the note and tucked it into the front pocket of her apron.
“Is this all?” She sounded annoyed.
“Sorry about that.” Evan wrapped his arms around the stash and tried to bring it back together in the center of the counter. As soon as he let go, a bottle of hot sauce toppled to the side and was headed for the floor. He reached out and snagged the glass container before it shattered on the wood.
“Wow. That was quick.” The girl had perched on her tiptoes to witness the great save.
Evan placed the jar upright next to the register. “Catlike reflexes.”
“Hmm.” She settled on her heels and shuffled through the pile. With the laser in one hand, she started scanning tags before placing the items in the paper bags marked with the Owen’s General Store logo.
He couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t impressed. He rubbed his jaw. It must be the stubble. He hadn’t shaved in several days. All part of the new incognito persona, he thought, but still girls usually flirted with him. He would be hard pressed to recount a time when a girl had batted her eyelashes, or asked him out and didn’t know exactly who he was.
“So what was that you were working on?” He leaned against the counter with his elbow as a kickstand.
For the first time since he had approached the checkout, she paused and looked at him. “Was there anything else I can get you, sir?”
Puzzled, he fished in his jeans pocket for his wallet. “No. Thank you.”
The preoccupied cashier pointed at the screen. That will be two hundred and thirty dollars and twenty-four cents.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. He liked the color; it was pretty. She was pretty, in a natural way. It was nice to look at someone who hadn’t spent a gazillion dollars to have their face reorganized.
Evan counted out the bills from his wallet and handed them to her before gathering the bags in his arms.
“Thank you for stopping by Owen’s.” She said it as if she was speaking on autopilot.
“Thank you.” Evan smiled and then walked out on the porch.
He loaded his purchases in the back of the Jeep. Dammit. The beer. He jogged back up the stairs and into the store.
The girl had her back turned and was focused on the paper she had spread out on the counter.
“So, you are writing something.” He pretended to peek over her shoulder.
“Hey, that’s private.” She shoved the paper back into her apron pocket.
“Dar—” He bit his tongue. He couldn’t say darlin’ here or anywhere. “I left my beer. The guy in the back brought it up for me, and I forgot it.”
“Oh, Travis didn’t mention it.” She turned around, searching the space along the counter for the beer. “Here it is.” It slid across the counter as she tugged on the handle.
“Really, I’m sorry if I pried.” Evan watched as she scanned the box. He hadn’t noticed the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose. They were cute. “I should have minded my own business.” He handed her another stack of bills, and then lifted the beer to his shoulder.
A smile spread across her face, and he saw a glimmer of blue in her eyes. A shade of blue he had seen in the sky before. “It’s ok. Have a good day.”
He walked toward the door and pivoted on his heel to ask her something, anything he could think of, but she had already pulled the paper from her pocket again and had forgotten he had even been there.
He smiled. It had been awhile—a very long while—but this was what it felt like when nobody knew who you were.
HAVEN LOOKED at the clock again. It was the one her grandfather had put in the store on opening day. Of course, she wasn’t around in 1961 when the store first opened for business, but she had heard the family tale so many times, she felt like she had been there. Her grandmother had served pineapple upside down cake and champagne punch. It was the social event of the season. Knowing Perry Island, Haven thought it was probably the only social event that year. The little hand was almost at the five—that was all she cared about.
“See you at eight. Don’t forget, hot stuff.” Travis tossed his apron in a ball across the counter.
“Wait, I didn’t say I was going tonight. I have things to do.” Things that included finishing two incomplete songs that had surfaced at the most inopportune times today. Ben’s party would be like all of the rest—over the top and expensive. She didn’t mind missing it.
“Whatever. You and I both know there’s nothing else going on tonight. See ya.”
Haven rested her forehead against the smooth surface of the counter. This day would never end. If she could just make it through one more, then she would have a full day off. No matter what Travis had planned that day, she was going to write. He could party alone.
Nell walked next to the anxious girl and typed in her clerk number on the register. “You ready to clock out?”
“I can’t get out of here fast enough. I’m so glad you’re here.” Haven ducked out of the apron and handed it over to the petite woman.
“For someone who is going to inherit this gold mine, you don’t seem to like it too much.” Nell flattened the apron against her chest.
“Don’t remind me.” Haven didn’t like to talk about the store as an inheritance. There were no brothers or sisters to share the burden. It was just her. If things went the way she wanted, she would be writing songs and hearing them on the radio. Her life on Perry Island would be part of the past.
“All right, kiddo. Go on. Get out of here. You probably have something fun planned tonight. I’ve got the store.” Nell shooed her from behind the register.
“If you see my dad, tell him I closed out the drawer like he asked and the report is in his office, ok?”
“Sure thing. Don’t worry about reports. He’ll find it. Night.”
Haven walked past the coffee machine, and the leftover display of this morning’s donuts. In less than thirteen hours, she would be right back here, starting the day all over again.
She grabbed her purse and her keys from the office and kicked open the screen door to the employee lot. Maybe she could squeeze in a few writing hours before Travis picked her up.
ONE OF the advantages to working in a beach store was getting first dibs on all the cute clothes that came in. Haven appreciated that point if nothing else. She tied the halter-top behind her neck and pulled the rest of the fabric around her sides. Travis was going to notice her no matter what she wore, no use in trying to hide it.
At eight sharp, she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to face the dark-haired guy who had chased after her since they were fourteen.
“Hey, you look hot. Ready?” Travis smiled, his eyes trailing the V between her breasts.
It was hard to ignore the look on his face. It stirred something under her skin—something she had felt a few nights ago. “Uh, yeah. Let me get my bag.”
She twirled away from the door and closed her eyes. Quick party and then she was going to be home by ten. That might give her a couple of hours to write before bed.
Travis held the door open as she passed under his arm. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“
Why? Ben’s parties are always the same. Booze, music, and a load of tourists he seems to pick up on the beach. Scratch that, girls he picks up on the beach.”
“If you have to ask, then I’ve been doing everything wrong.” He opened the passenger side door.
Haven recognized the gesture as something that happens on a date. This wasn’t supposed to be a date. Hesitantly, she slid into the car and waited as Travis closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
She glanced at the light in her bedroom window. How had she let him drag her into this? Her guitar was in there with two songs, like half a heart, waiting for its whole.
BEN’S PARTIES were always epic. His dad was the island’s most successful realtor, and when there was less than six square miles of real estate to sell, any tiny piece of it was valuable. Mr. Jordan had figured out Perry Island was like an untapped oil pipeline long before anyone else caught on.
Travis parked next to the fence, several cars away from the main gate. During party nights, Ben kept the gates open.
“You ready?” Travis squeezed Haven’s hand. She felt the warmth of his palm as it pressed against his knuckles. Moments like this she knew he was the sweetest guy on the island, but she also knew he would always be the sweetest guy—he wouldn’t leave.
“Yep. One red cup and then you have to take me home.” She tilted her head to the side.
“Whatever you say, boss.” He snatched the keys from the ignition and stuffed them in his pocket.
Haven hopped from the car before he could make it to her side. She didn’t want him trying any more of that chivalrous stuff tonight. They were here as friends.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, you know. I’m not your boss. I work at Owen’s just like you.” She sidled up next to him as they walked through the iron gates of the Jordan beach estate.
“I’m just kidding around with you, girl. Lighten up. We’re here to have fun.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s kind of hot that you’re my boss.”
Finding Haven Page 3
