Ralph laughs. “Oh, you’ve met Lucy already. Great gal, isn’t she? Been comin around these waters for years.”
“So I heard,” Lincolns replies, slipping a big tub of guac into a cooler beneath the counter. “Thought it was a shark when I first saw the dorsal fin and about shit my shorts.”
“Oh, those are out there, too. Be careful around the Washout.”
“Good to know.” Lincoln straightens up and brushes his hands together. “How’s the guac, Ralph?”
He slides a ten-dollar bill across the counter. “Best damn guac I ever had,” he declares, sinking his dentures into the steak taco. “Same goes for these tacos,” he says, pulling a napkin from a dispenser and wiping his mouth. “Real glad to have ya folks here in town. I was getting tired of crawfish boils and collard greens.”
Lincoln laughs and slides him three dollars back. “I’m with you there; not a big fan of mud-bugs and seaweed.”
Ralph scoops up the basket, leaving all of his change behind. “See y’all tomorrow!” Turning, he passes the Chevelle and strolls back into the sand, swatting at a brazen seagull swooping in for a sniff of his food. I watch Ralph stop for a horse drawn carriage clip-clopping down a pedestrian trail snaking through the beach. A newly married bride and groom smile and laugh in the back, while the driver up front tips his top hat to Ralph.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I exhale, letting the salted breeze wash over my face. “I feel like we’re in a Cialis commercial.”
Grinning, Lincoln tosses a rag in the hamper. “Minus the erectile dysfunction, of course.”
I snuggle up against him. He smells like food and I want to eat him up. “Of course.”
He rubs my back with the side of my face resting against his soft chest. Together, we watch waves break against the shoreline in the distance. Seagulls cry out from above and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy drifts past from one of the food trucks parked down the line. “What do ya say we call it a day?”
Pulling my head from his chest, I look up. “What about dinner?”
Lincoln shrugs. “We had a great lunch. Let’s go hit The Hut and let someone else cook for us tonight.”
I follow his gaze to the exploding waves showering the air with mist. What can I say? It’s a beautiful June afternoon. The sand is white and warm. Huge cruise ships sail past in the distance, packed with an unfathomable number of tourists, all flush with cash. Cleaning up the last of the lunch mess, we lock up and remove our shoes. Lincoln takes my hand and stops next to the Chevelle, admiring our newly wrapped food truck glistening in the sun. Blood red with black trim, white letters curl across the side.
Guac & Roll All Night
and Tacos Every Day.
We look at each other and smile because it’s perfect. And it’s all ours. Luckily, we got a steal on an old Hostess truck and fixed it up to our liking. On budget. Jack’s life insurance policy hasn’t deposited yet and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Last I heard, it was on track to deposit in the next week or two, but I’ve heard that before. Fingers crossed this time. It’s hard not to think about what you could do with three-quarters of a million dollars. The house hasn’t sold yet either and I’ve already written off any potential cash associated with that upside-down monstrosity. Yet, even without the extra money, we’re doing just fine. It’s like we were meant to be here and I can’t believe my wish came true.
Digging our toes into the hot sand, we pass brightly colored umbrellas and folding chairs. Frisbees and footballs sail on the wind. Two kids go racing by, laughing and chasing after a dog in seventh heaven. I still can’t believe we’re here. When recent legislation made food truck permits user-friendly, Charleston became a no-brainer in Lincoln’s mind. He was all over it. The weather is as warm as the people, and all we have to do is step outside our front door to soak in the breathtaking scenery. But the money… It’s like these people have never had Tex-Mex before in their entire lives. They’re used to southern comfort dishes and run us out of stock every lunch and dinner. This requires more trips to the store but that’s okay because we get to do it together. We shop together, cook together and live together, and, somehow, he’s not sick of me yet.
“Did that really happen last night?”
Turning to the sound of Lincoln’s voice, I push my shades higher up my nose, squinting against the bright white sand. “Did what happen?”
“Did someone really pull your hair?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Because you like to mess with me,” he says, leading me into the merciful shade of our favorite tiki bar. We slip back into our shoes and I could stay in this place forever. Located right on the beach, the open-air view is second to none. Salt and limes scent the air with strings of party lights running above. Tightening my ponytail, my eyes draw to the long tiki masks hanging from the thick posts supporting the Mexican palm thatch protecting us from the sun. I could literally stay here forever.
Pulling a wad of cash from his shorts, Lincoln orders two cold beers. When we first arrived, we tried way too many fruity drinks: Mai-Tais, Blue Hawaiians, Pina Coladas in coconut shells, hurricanes, Singapore slings, and even something called Otto’s Shrunken Head served inside a smoking skull. No, the fruity-tooty is for the tourists. We’re locals now and I may order a whiskey-sour later but for the time being, cold beer has never tasted better on my lips.
“I still can’t believe we live here,” Lincoln says, leading us to a table overlooking the beach. Sitting, we stare at each other over our sweaty bottles. I smile coyly and turn away, watching the waves roll in and the people stroll by.
I sigh. “This view is so beautiful.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replies, not taking his eyes off me and making me blush.
“You’re sweet.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean thank you for coming with me. This place wouldn’t be half as beautiful without you.”
My cheeks get warm and I cool my tongue with a long drink. “I’m sure you’d be fine,” I say, scanning the multitude of bikini clad women buzzing around the bar like flies.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I laugh a little and rub my thumb back and forth across the condensation on the bottle, clearing a spot in the glass. Looking up, the touch of a grin plays on my lips. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”
“I always believed I could make a food truck work, but this…” Blowing out a heavy breath, he takes off his ball cap and pushes a hand through his hair. “This has exceeded my wildest dreams. We’re making some serious bank here!”
“That’s because these people love what you cook! They’ve never had anything like it and keep coming back for more.” Reaching under the table, I rub his leg, stiffening at the feel of his muscles beneath my fingertips. “You’re amazing at what you do.”
Tossing his shades on the table, his eyebrows rise into his tanned forehead. “Well, don’t stop now. Tell me more about how great I am.”
I laugh and roll my eyes.
“We should take tomorrow off,” he suggests, leaning his elbows against the table. “We deserve it.”
I cheer him with my beer. “I’ll drink to that,” I reply, clinking my bottle against his and tipping it back.
Setting his beer down, Lincoln gets up. He smiles down at me, a warm glimmer haunting his eyes. “I’m going to order us some wings and hit the restroom,” he says, bending over and kissing me on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”
My insides race because this is really happening. We live here now and our food truck is kicking serious ass. I’m with the man I love and, insurance policy or not, nothing can stop us now. We have fate by the balls and I will not let go. My phone vibrates against the table, drawing my eyes. My heart lurches in my chest. Every time Mary calls I’m certain she’s traced the Vette back to the coroner and I’ll have to talk her off the ledge. Inhaling a courageous breath, I swipe at the screen an
d press the smartphone to an ear.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Okay, I just booked a flight for next Tuesday.”
“To where? Here?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Oh my God, that’d be amazing! We will have the best time.” I lower my voice and watch the ocean. “You literally have no idea. Charleston is crazy beautiful.”
“Aww, I can’t wait to see you guys and your new truck.” Mary sighs into the phone. “Plus, I could really use a break from this place.”
“Uh-oh,” I say, watching three shirtless guys clip-clop past in flip-flops. “What’s wrong?”
“Work is just super busy right now; and hey, do you remember that guy I met at a Colleen Hoover book signing last week?”
“The nice gay one?”
“Yeah, turns out Craig’s not gay. Not even close.”
“Really?” Sipping my beer, I watch a bachelorette party across the bar raise their shot glasses high into the air.
“We went out this past weekend and it was aaaamazing! We totally click.” Mary gets unusually quiet and I can tell that’s my cue to jump in.
“But?”
“But…I ran him through our database at work and he’s had one moving violation his entire life, and that was for running a yellow light. That’s it.”
“Ooookay.”
“And,” she sighs, “he’s not on Facebook.”
“He’s not?”
“No! And he’s not on Instagram or Snapchat either.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I really like him and I have no way of knowing what he did last summer, or what he had for dinner last night!” She pauses to lower her voice. “He’s untraceable. What do I do, Sienna?”
“Umm, why don’t you try just asking Craig what he had for dinner last night?”
“In person? That is so weird!” Noise filters through as if she’s suddenly on the move. “Hey, I have to let you go. We’re showing a preview for ‘The Little Mermaid 2’ in the children’s section and all the kids dressed up for it. They are so stinking cute and about to wreak havoc upon the library.”
“Send me some pics!”
Disconnecting, relief washes over me like the waves in the distance, forcing my muscles to relax. Mary didn’t find the coroner. She just simply booked a flight here next week and I didn’t think I could possibly get any happier. But I am. I can’t wait to see her and hear all about her crazy new fling. My eyes draw to the bar, where Lincoln’s talking to a tattooed bartender, named Sebastian, pointing at something on the menu. Grinning, I can’t wait to tell him his baby sister is coming on Tuesday. He’s already pointed out several places he wants to take her, including the old… My head snaps back and I scream when someone yanks on my ponytail.
The End
WHITE WIDOW written by NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR KAITLYN CROSS.
Thank you so much for reading White Widow! This powerful story poured out of me without fail and, in the end, I am so happy Sienna didn’t fall victim to her shithead husband. According to the CDC, 24 people per minute are survivors of rape, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner in the United States alone – more than 12 million women and men over the course of a year.
If you are experiencing domestic violence, you are not alone. Please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or TTY 1-800-787-3224 for confidential support.
Thank you again for reading White Widow. If you have a quick minute, please turn the page and leave an honest review; it can be a few short words or a rambling soliloquy. Either way, I am eternally grateful for every reader!
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Television and movie producers can contact me at [email protected].
Books by Kaitlyn Cross:
Fate Interrupted Box Set – A New York Times and USA Today Bestseller
Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted
Coming in Early 2018:
Fate Interrupted 4: Just Married
Life is short, buy the shoes!
White Widow Page 17
