by T. I. Lowe
She did as she was told and placed the glass and a small pitcher in front of August, who was busy grinning at his phone.
“You seem to bring out the best in my dad.” She stood before him, fiddling with the order pad wedged underneath the cash register.
He pocketed the phone and looked up at her. “Your dad possesses a laugh that needs to be freed at any chance. I enjoy him sharing it with me.” The purple hints in his eyes glittered with amusement, and she knew without a doubt that August meant it.
Emotion rolled over her in such a sudden wave that it stung her eyes. Blinking it away the best she could, Josie whispered, “He doesn’t laugh like that much anymore.” The words barely came out as her throat closed in around them.
August reached over and cupped her hand with his warm one. “Then I think it’s time he gets back to it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” With her free hand, she batted away the rebellious tear that fled from the corner of her eye.
August lightly squeezed her hand. “Does this—and what I did this morning—make you uncomfortable?”
Josie was surprised by his sudden question enough to get the waterworks in check. She blinked a few times before shaking her head. “Not uncomfortable. Just unexpected.”
“So you’re okay with this?” He squeezed again.
Josie moved her hand so that she could entwine their fingers together. “I’m okay with this, even if it scares the mess out of me.”
August’s lips tugged up on one side as he angled his head a little closer. “I’ve heard you ain’t living bold enough if it doesn’t scare you a little.” Tease reflected in his tone just as clearly as it did in his silvery-blue eyes.
Jasper came bustling through the kitchen’s swinging door with a fat po’boy sandwich sitting proudly on top of a mountain of homemade chips, scaring a squeaky yelp right out of Josie.
August coughed back a chuckle as he slid his eyes away from her to study the plate of food. “Oh, wow! You’ve outdone yourself, sir.”
“You best keep this between you and me. Don’t need that feisty Nan Bradford coming after me.”
“Promise.” August picked up the hoagie roll that could barely contain the fried shrimp and oysters stacked inside with the homemade tartar sauce and coleslaw working as inadequate but tasty glue. He took a giant bite and groaned around it. After wiping his mouth with about four napkins, he said, “So good. How’d you manage making it taste so light?”
“It’s the tempura batter I use, instead of the cornmeal dredge most other places use.” Jasper beamed.
“It’s a winner.” August tucked into the food with gusto.
“Thanks, son.” Jasper waved goodbye to some parting patrons and shuffled back into the kitchen.
As Josie kept herself busy with closing down the front, August kept up an appealing litany of appreciative moans and groans until his plate was completely wiped clean.
August gathered his plate as two o’clock arrived and walked into the kitchen. He didn’t emerge again until she was closing up. She noticed he was covered in what looked to be grease.
“The fryers are clean,” August commented as he walked over to her.
“Okay . . .” She was confused yet grateful about not having to clean the fryers. “Why’d you do that?”
August shrugged. “You’re helping me with the paintings, so I want to help you in return.” He leaned closer with a coyness twinkling in those silvery-blue eyes. “That’s what friends do, right?”
“I suppose.” She shrugged back, trying to mimic his casualness.
“You ready?” August asked.
She regarded his filthy shirt. “For what?”
“To paint.” He held out his hand, and for some reason she wouldn’t completely grasp until long after that day, she accepted it.
They loaded up in his truck, and in the confines of the warm space, the scent of grease was a bit overpowering. Wrinkling her nose, Josie let out a giggle. “We stink.”
August cranked the truck and rolled the windows down. “I think it’s more me than we.” He stared out the windshield in the direction of the ocean waves. “But I have an idea on how we can get the stink off.” He shifted the truck into reverse and then into drive. “You’ll need a bathing suit.”
“We’re going to the beach?” Josie wasn’t opposed, but she already had her heart set on heading into the country.
“That would work too, but I have a better idea.” That’s all the answer August would give her, grinning and shaking his head when she asked for more clues.
She gave up on figuring it out and dashed inside her house when he pulled up only minutes later. Josie made quick work of changing into a tankini and loading a bag with a change of clothes and a towel. After covering up with a tank top and a pair of cutoffs, she dashed back out. She was happily relieved when August headed inland.
Once they reached the fire station, August commented, “Did you know there’s a pretty steep hill in the backyard here?”
Josie unfastened her seat belt and glanced over at him. “No. An actual hill in this flat country?”
“Yep. I think they must have built up the foundation before building the fire station.” August shut the truck off and exited with Josie following. “Let me change into my swim trunks and I’ll show it to you.”
“Umm . . . okay . . .” She had no idea why he was suddenly interested in showing her a hill, but she let it go and wandered over to inspect the paintings in progress while he went upstairs to change. The profile picture of her wasn’t even halfway complete but it was already breathtaking. She loved the vibrant streaks of color that touched her face at various angles. The canvas on the easel beside it looked a little hurried when compared to the one he’d been working on. The time clock seemed to be ticking down on the project, but then it occurred to her that was self-imposed and perhaps it was time to slow down a bit and really appreciate the process, as it seemed her painting companion was a pro at doing.
Josie was about to pick up a paintbrush when August walked past the partition, wearing the same blue board shorts he’d worn the first day he visited the diner, minus the shirt, and that was distracting.
A bottle of shower gel in one hand and a towel in the other, he asked, “Ready to get cleaned up?”
Heat flooded her cheeks as she blurted, “I’m not showering with you!”
August bit his lip, but the smirk was unmistakable. “Sweetheart, don’t go putting thoughts like that in my head.” He tsked and motioned for Josie to follow him, leading her to the side door and then around back.
Sure enough, there was a hill, and when she saw what was draped down it, she let out a laugh. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did.” August walked over to what had to be the longest homemade slip-and-slide she’d ever seen and began squirting shower gel down the length of it. “It’s ten feet wide and a hundred feet long.”
Josie watched with a good amount of apprehension as August turned on several sprinklers lining the edges, instantly soaking the clear plastic and producing tiny bubbles. It looked dangerous but so, so tempting, just like its creator. Especially when the familiar soapy scent of August’s shower gel began perfuming the air around her. “This looks like a broken bone waiting to happen.” Even though she was protesting, Josie was already removing her tank top, shorts, and flip-flops.
“No worries. Tuck and Zach came over yesterday and we spent a better part of the day testing it out. Everyone walked away intact.” August sauntered over to her and held out his hand with pure mischief lighting his handsome face. “I bet with the shower gel, we’ll take off like lightning.”
“I don’t know . . . I like all of my bones the way God made them and really don’t want to chance messing up the great job he did forming them.”
August chuckled and gently tugged on her arm. “Come on, Jo. We’ll do it together.”
Hesitating for only another second, Josie gave in and allowed August to pull her to the top edge. She toed the slippery s
urface and gave him a sideways glance. “Won’t it be complicated to slide together?” She imagined it would be tricky to not bump into each other along the way.
August held her eyes and tilted his head, a seriousness forming in his gaze. “Perhaps . . . That’s the case with most anything, ain’t it?” He leaned closer. “But I’m willing to risk a little complication as long as you’re by my side.”
Josie didn’t know what to say to that, and August gave her no time to figure it out. In a blink, they were diving down the hill on the slippery plastic. By the time they made it to the bottom, August had managed to do what he did best: he’d helped her overcome her ill-placed fears and live a little. Even if it was on a long piece of plastic and could be viewed as a childish way to spend the afternoon.
By the third trip down the slip-and-slide, the notion of being childish had vanished as nicely as the stench of fryer grease and seafood. It morphed into a heated competition on who could make it to the bottom first. Running starts and horseplay had the two nearly tied in wins and all-out exhausted.
When they couldn’t fathom one more trip down the hill, August disappeared inside and returned with a sliced watermelon. They sat side by side underneath the shade of an ancient oak tree and munched on the supersweet treat until the giant bowl was emptied.
Nice and full and ridiculously sleepy, this time when Josie’s head ended up leaning on August’s shoulder, she left it there and simply enjoyed his nearness. She could have easily closed her eyes and let the day slip into a lazy snooze, but the painting was calling out to her.
“We need to go paint,” Josie mumbled but didn’t move her head from his warm shoulder.
“Yeah.” August yawned. Instead of standing as she expected, he slumped against the tree a little more, wrapped his arm around her, and began running his fingers through her drying hair.
“Seriously . . . we need to . . .” Her words slurred and trailed off.
“Yeah,” he repeated again. And again, he did not make a move to stand.
Needless to say, the painting was kept for another day.
10
“This is so sissy,” Tucker griped while squinting at the idea August had presented to them.
“Says who?” August asked as he dumped another bag of wooden beads and trinkets on top of the blanket he’d spread out in the shade of the same tree he and Josie had napped underneath the week before. He bit his lip to contain the smile that memory wanted to produce and focused on his brothers. Zachary was already sitting cross-legged and eager to get started.
“The world.” Tucker shrugged a lanky shoulder and plopped down beside Zachary, grabbing a spool of jute twine.
“Since when did we start caring what the world thought?” August joined them on the blanket and began fishing out some beads. “Besides, this is for the camp, so man up and start stringing beads.”
Tucker rolled his eyes at August but dove into the project with gusto. They were all committed to seeing the camp succeed, and it was no secret that Tucker would do anything to ensure his older brother stuck to staying in Sunset Cove. “Why are you rushing us?”
August gave his watch a quick glance before adding another bead to the twine. “Because Josie will be here in two hours and y’all gotta get lost before then.”
“Why? I like her.” Zachary grabbed a wooden medallion but replaced it in the pile after giving it some thought.
“I can’t chance y’all saying something to run her off or embarrassing me.” August gave Tucker a pointed look when the teenager glanced up to dispute him. They both knew he’d be the guilty party.
“You just don’t want to share her and that’s not nice.” Zachary huffed.
“How about you help me knock these out and I’ll bring you back over later in the day to play on the slip-and-slide?”
Zachary perked but Tucker didn’t look impressed.
“Two words for you, Tuck: shower gel and a boogie board.” August waggled his eyebrows.
“That’s more than two words but you have yourself a deal.” Tucker set in to stringing beads like nobody’s business as he and August discussed other ways to soup up the slip-and-slide experience until the task was complete.
It had taken less than two weeks for Josie to complete both the handprint piece and the freestyle piece, and August was impressed as well as disappointed. While she flitted around him, cleaning up her paint supplies, he stood still in front of the freestyle canvas with a wry smirk.
The look he was giving the canvas finally caught Josie’s attention, and her busy body came to a sudden halt beside him.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“I didn’t say that . . .” August tilted his head and studied it from another angle. “It’s just different from what I’d imagined.”
She scrunched her nose and squinted at the artwork. “How so?”
“The words aren’t the ones I was thinking of.” He angled his head in the other direction, eyes staying zoomed in on the canvas that Josie had filled with the words DRIFT, BOOM, SHOUT. Drift made no sense to him, but he kept his lips sealed on that opinion. It was like she was avoiding the only DR word that made sense.
Josie crossed her arms and huffed. “You said to fill them in however I saw fit.”
“I did.” August shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose-fitting cargo pants and gave her a sidelong glance as the words DREAM, BOLD, and SHINE came to mind.
“What words were you thinking?” She fiddled with the brush in her hand.
August shrugged and moved over to the table to close a tube of paint. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“You’re seriously not going to tell me?”
“Nope,” August answered, hoping to rile her up.
“What is the purpose of these three pieces?” she asked, giving up faster than he wanted her to.
“They were commissioned for a private collection.” That’s all he was giving her on that subject too. He gestured for her to follow him to the kitchenette, where he began scrubbing the paint from his hands at the sink. “I have another job I need your assistance with.”
Josie’s eyes darted to the door as they did every time he pushed for a little more from her. “I . . .”
“You handled this project just fine. Chances are looking favorable you can do it again.” He leaned near her ear and whispered as best he could, “This next one is huge. Please don’t leave me hanging.”
Josie made quick work of washing and drying her hands while her head did a jittery shake of protest. “I don’t have much time. Especially for a huge project.”
August followed her out the door and stepped in front of the truck door to block her escape. “But the project is for the camp. It’s a new medium I haven’t worked with before, and I bet you haven’t either.” He raised an eyebrow, hoping it was enough bait to hook her once more.
Josie glanced around before meeting his eyes. “What’s the project?”
The plan was to behave and keep his hands to himself, but when she stepped into his space, the idea was nixed. Slowly he reached out to unravel the hair tie from her long braid and then worked his finger through it. “Only one way to find out.”
“August.” Her exasperated tone was enough to unleash his grin.
“Jo.” And his flirty tone was enough to have her huffing.
Josie tilted her head closer, all the permission he needed to continue exploring the silky texture of her hair. “I have to work a double tomorrow.”
“No worries. I’ll be here working on it. Whatever time you can spare to help will be greatly appreciated. I’m gonna need it. Thanks again for working with me on this pop art project. I’ll have your part of the commission by the end of the week.” He already had the check written but wanted to secure another reason to seek her out if Josie decided to bail on him. Leaning against the truck, he tugged her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. The hug was a perfect fit, just like everything else with Josie Slater.
“Okay.” On a lon
g sigh, the stiffness of her body transformed to softness as she finally returned the hug.
August recalled a favorite blanket he had as a kid. It was nothing special, just an old tattered afghan blanket with moth holes, but he always kept it close when comfort was needed. After his parents were taken away, August needed the blanket more than he cared to admit. Holding Josie, he realized she had the same effect on him, and it took great effort for him to let her go when she eventually took a step back.
“I can’t wait for you to see what we have to do for the camp.” He handed her the hair tie and pulled on a playful grin to lighten the moment.
“Okay.” It seemed to be the only word Josie could form, but he caught sight of the smile she was failing to suppress. As she climbed into the truck, she reached for the door handle, but August wedged himself in the way. He leaned down and widened his grin into a goofy expression until she cracked and returned it.
“Now that is one pretty picture to leave me with, Miss Slater.” With that he stepped out of the way and closed her door.
As the vehicle disappeared around a curve in the road, August let out a chuckle. “Making that woman laugh could easily become one of my favorite pastimes,” he mused to himself.
11
“What just happened?” Josie mumbled a mile down the road as the shock finally wore off. She steered the truck to the edge of an overgrown field and put it in park. Placing her forehead against the steering wheel, she sucked in several deep breaths.
You know what just happened! You knew it would if you allowed August Bradford close enough!
One short, exhilarating week of painting and a few stolen moments were enough to have her falling headfirst into his appealing world. It was filled with so much alluring whimsy and creativity that she wouldn’t mind never returning to her normal life. Knowing that wasn’t an option, Josie sat up, quickly rebraided her hair, and shifted the truck into drive and headed to the diner.
