“Way to be specific.” I chuckle. “Okay, I’m going to go get in line.”
“Nah, come with me.” He nods toward the back of the shop as he grabs the shirt from me. I follow closely behind him, trying to keep my eyes off his firm butt—and failing miserably.
He walks me through a door that leads to a small room identical to the main shop with its white walls, beautiful floors, and teal accents. To the right, a door leads to the outside, flower boxes hanging by the window, and from the looks of it, there is a small sign that hangs just outside the door, but I can’t see what it says from my angle.
“This is a little-known secret of Port Snow. Locals come to the side entrance and give us their orders when the line is long. It’s the best way to avoid the crowds. Make sure when you want something, you come back here. I’ll go get your bakery items. Be right back.”
A secret checkout counter? How freaking adorable.
He goes to the front and starts plucking things from the glass case while I take in the small counter. It’s quite tiny but serves its purpose. The only difference between this room and the front is that instead of the cute old cash register, there is a modern iPad checkout system. I would wait in line to see the old cash register work . . . well, maybe I would wait in line. Depends on how badly I want a treat.
Griffin comes back to the counter holding a teal pastry box with red-and-white string tied around it and a white bag. Even their packaging is charming. No wonder this is a tourist destination.
“All right, got you everything and added a whoopie pie for free because they’re my favorite and I didn’t want you to not choose it.” He winks and starts ringing everything up, tapping away on the iPad.
“That was sweet. Thank you.” I hand him my card as well as Brig’s 20 percent off discount, enjoying that I get to see him in his element. “How often are you in here working?”
He spins the iPad around for me to sign. “Almost every day. I’m usually here with my sister, Jen, and when I’m called out by the station, my parents come in to help, or one of my brothers covers for me.”
“That’s sweet. So you kind of get the best of both worlds.”
“Exactly. Receipt?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.” I take the box and bags. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll see you around, Ren.” He points to the door to the right of me. “If you go out there and turn left, you’ll see a little path; it’ll take you back out to Main Street.” With one last parting smile, he walks back to the bustle of the store, leaving me with a skyrocketed pulse and a thirst for more.
CHAPTER SIX
GRIFFIN
“Hell, if she was my algebra teacher, I would have done a lot better than a C minus.” Reid is washing down the pastry cases, unable to shut up about his run-in with Ren. “I would have asked for all the extra credit, if you know what I mean.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me like a douche.
“Are you still talking about the new girl?” Jen asks, making her way from the back, where she was packaging up all the pastries and fudge.
“Yup. She’s hot. Definitely a teacher I would have paid attention to. Those pubescent boys aren’t going to know what hit them this fall.”
I’m counting out our register drawer, trying to stay focused on the numbers whipping through my head, but it’s difficult with Reid’s constant small talk. I jot down another tally mark on the paper in front of me and set aside a stack of bills. I’ve already accounted for all credit card transactions, which we only accept in the back; the front counter is cash only. We make sure that’s known with a bunch of signs around the shop and an ATM we conveniently have next to our front door.
“Hello, are you listening?” Reid asks, sounding annoyed.
“No. I’m counting.”
“Well, I’m talking about you, so you might want to lend me your ear for a second.”
Huffing, I set the cash on the counter, knowing my very persistent brother won’t be quiet until I give him my full attention. “What’s up, Reid?”
Satisfied, he smiles. “You should ask her out.”
“Ask who out?”
“Ren.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. “No.”
I go back to counting, but Reid starts snapping his fingers at me. “Hey, I wasn’t finished.” I look back up at him, not even slightly interested in this conversation. “I saw the way she was looking at you today. I think she likes you.”
“You’re confused. She was probably just being nice, since I’m the guy who pulled her out of the window of her car. And even if she does like me, which I highly doubt, there’s no interest on my end. So that’s the end of that.”
“Bullshit,” Reid and Jen both say at the same time.
Christ. My two most nagging siblings are ganging up on me. Just what I need when I’m trying to get home and relax.
“Can we not make this into a dissection of my personal life, please? I’m not in the mood, and I want to get this done so I can go home.”
“Griff, she’s pretty, she’s sweet, and she’s smart. She’s new to town and, I’m sure, could use a friend,” Jen says just as the door opens, its bell chiming through the space. Brig pops in, grease all over his shirt and a smirk on his face.
Uh-oh. There’s only one reason why he’d be smirking at me that way.
“What are we talking about?” He rubs his hands together and takes a seat on a barstool near the window. “If it’s about the hot new teacher in town, I want in on this conversation.”
“We’re trying to convince Griff to ask her out.”
Brig slow claps his appreciation. “Novel idea. I think they’re a perfect match. It’s like Cupid struck both of them in the ass down in that ditch.”
“I’m not asking her out,” I huff, giving up on the register and leaning against the wall behind me, arms crossed. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on counting while these three are yapping in my ear.
“Why the hell not? She’s perfect for you,” Brig says, a little insulted at my rejection. “Before you even say no, you should at least get to know her a little. I told her today she could borrow your truck while her car is in the shop.”
I count to five before answering, tamping down my temper. “Why the hell would you do that?” Okay, maybe I didn’t tamp it down enough.
“Uh, because she lives three houses down from you?” Brig rolls his eyes as if I’m the stupid one in this conversation. “She needs some help, so be a knight in shining armor, dude. Help out the damsel in distress and then make out with her on the beach. Maybe cop a feel; get some for once.”
“I’m not doing that,” I answer, going back to the money, letting them know this conversation is over.
“And why not?” Jen asks.
“Because I’m not interested in starting or being in a relationship. I’m happy with how my life is right now, and I don’t need anything complicating it.”
“But she has heart eyes for you,” Brig says like a jackass.
“Don’t worry; there are plenty of Knightly brothers to choose from,” I reply.
“Come on, Griff. How fun can going home to an empty, lonely house really be?” Jen chimes in, concern evident in her voice.
I shift on my feet, my voice terse. “I like my house. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Silence falls between us, an awkward air advancing in like a fast-moving cold front.
“Is this because of New Orleans?” Reid finally asks, taking a seat next to Brig. Both of my brothers fix their gazes on me, waiting for an answer.
Why is this a fucking thing whenever we talk about my love life? Can’t they just let it go? What happened was . . . hell, I don’t even know how to describe it. All I know is I don’t foresee love in my future.
Claire was the love of my life, and I lost her; in a blink of an eye she was gone. I’m not going through that again. Not ever.
Shaking my head, I turn away from my family. This conversation is o
ver.
And with that, I take the cash to the back office, where I can get some peace and quiet.
Ask Ren Winters out on a date? Not going to happen.
And she’s not going to drive my truck either. I think that’s evident in the fact that she drove her car in between two trees.
Can’t blame a guy there.
Leaning back on my palms, I let my fingers sink into the cold sand as my legs stretch out in front of me, the salty ocean air filling my lungs with memories of my childhood.
All the football games we held out on the beach, tackling each other until it was too dark to see anything. The summers we spent trying to boogie board over the waves but failing—none of us had any skills when it came to water sports. The picnics we’d have as a family after long days in the shop, sharing bars of fudge and picking our favorites out of the new flavors Dad had created that week.
So many memories were made on this sand, some that have faded and some that have stuck to me like glue, shaping me into the man I am today.
The sun starts its descent toward the crest of the water, the waves lapping against the slate rocks to the left, their dark features replicating the deep color of the sand.
“Hey there.”
Her voice is distinct: sweet and small, but there’s power behind it.
I turn to see Ren walking toward me in a pair of yoga pants and a light-pink long-sleeved T-shirt. She eyes the spot next to me. “Mind if I join you?” She holds up a little bag I didn’t notice at first. “I brought the whoopie pie.”
Hell if I can resist one of those. It’s a signature Maine pastry that’s been recreated too many times in bakeries across the state, turned into a cheap knockoff, but not at the Lobster Landing. We’ve stuck to the traditional chocolate-cake cookies and creamy vanilla center. Why change something up when it’s one of the major delicacies tourists from around the country come to try?
“Bribing me with a whoopie pie? You really know how to break me, don’t you?”
“Not bribing.” She shifts on her feet, toeing the sand, looking shier than I expected. “Just offering you a little goody in exchange for some company.”
Hell, how can I refuse that?
I pat the sand next to me. “That’s an even trade.”
At her bright smile, the realization hits me harder than I could have expected: she actually enjoys my company, and hell, I enjoy hers as well.
She sits right next to me, our shoulders almost touching, and instead of stretching out her legs like me, she keeps them crossed in front of her as she pulls out the whoopie pie. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a taste, and right about now, my mouth is watering to the point that I’m afraid I might drool.
“Do you mind if I give you half? It’s huge, and I don’t think I could eat it all by myself.”
“I would love to eat the other half of your whoopie pie,” I answer, eyeing the damn thing like it’s the last one on earth.
She splits the chocolate, cakelike cookie with light cream filling down the middle and hands me a half. “That was easier than I expected.” She takes a bite, and I watch as she slowly closes her eyes, letting the flavors sit on her tongue. “Oh wow. Oh wow, that’s really good.” She springs her eyes open. “How can you serve these to people all day long and not take a bite out of each one?”
“Besides the fact that customers would get mad if we started nibbling on their baked goods, you learn pretty quickly not to eat everything, or else you’re staring down a pastry-filled gut and scone-size love handles.”
She holds the whoopie pie out in front of her and turns her head toward me. “Sooo . . . what you’re telling me is that these treats aren’t sugar-free, fat-free, dairy-free?”
“Not even a little.”
“Well, damn.” She chuckles and takes another bite, moaning.
The sound stirs something inside me I haven’t felt in a long time. Longing? Yearning? The need for a woman? Thoughts about my love life began to confuse me the moment Ren sat down.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she says, before I can pinpoint exactly what the feeling is. “When I was thinking about taking the job, I did a lot of research on the town and looked at all the pictures I could find. Let me tell you, the internet does not even come close to the real thing. I’ve been here a full one and a half days, and I’m already in love with this town: the atmosphere, the people, the shops, the old, judgy elders who stand outside of the general store.”
“Did you meet them today?”
“Not ‘meet’ per se, but I heard them talking about me as I walked in and out of the shops. They’re not really quiet.”
“That’s because they can’t hear each other. So they’re all talking extremely loud, especially the ones who don’t wear hearing aids. The one you really have to look out for is Mrs. Davenport. Sweet old lady, but packs a lot of punch when it comes to her ability to gossip. She’ll lure you in, ask you questions, and then strike when the iron is hot.”
Ren takes another bite of her whoopie-pie half, mine already consumed. “She sounds dangerous.”
“Very. Watch yourself around her.”
“Good to know. Anyone else I should steer clear of?”
I shake my head. “Nah. Ruth at the coffee shop is pretty cool if you’re looking for someone to hang out with. Her friend Rylee is usually in the coffee shop in the mornings. She’s a romance author who recently got married and adopted triplets with her husband, Beck. He’s still pretty new to town, if you need someone to commiserate with.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m still stuck on adopting triplets. That is a huge undertaking.”
“Not for them. They couldn’t have kids on their own, so it was a blessing for them.”
Ren makes a sweet sound of understanding just as she finishes her whoopie pie. “Ah, that’s amazing. Good for them.” Ren pauses for a second. “So do you know everyone in town and their backstories?”
I nod, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah. I grew up here with all the same people. Some have come, and some have gone, but when you live here for so long, you just add the new people to the community, to your second family.”
“A second family. I like that.” She tilts her head to the side, and I can feel her curious eyes on me. “How many people do you think already know about me?”
“Do you want the truth?” She nods, so I continue. “Probably everybody. Like I said, news travels fast. Sometimes it isn’t correct news, but in the end, it gets straightened out. You just have to let the initial excitement die down first.”
She nods slowly and stares out at the sunset sky with me, the world turning to a burnt orange color, casting a glow on the both of us.
“Have you ever thought about moving away?”
So many times.
After I lost Claire, there were countless days I had my bags packed and was ready to drive as far as I could, away from the painful memories until they started to fade. The first year after her death, I could have sworn I still saw her everywhere. In the window of the coffeehouse, in the back of the shop sneaking cookies, in our bedroom, waiting for me to get home.
Everywhere I looked, I saw Claire, and it was too painful to be in Port Snow, but every time I tried to leave, my family pulled me back in, convincing me that I still had my town and family to rely on. If I moved, they were worried I would bury myself in a hole and never come up for air.
They were right; that’s exactly what I would have done.
So with some encouragement and a lot of whoopie pies, I made it through the first year.
But I don’t want to get into that with Ren, so I lie. “Nah, how could I leave this place? It’s perfect, right?”
“Feels perfect,” she answers with a sigh. “I moved from Los Angeles, and let me tell you, I feel like I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough. It wasn’t the place for me. But Port Snow? I think I might just have a love affair with this town.” She turns toward me. “Are there any kind of groups or clubs I can get involved in? I still h
ave some time before classes start, and I would love to meet more people, make friends.”
I scratch the back of my neck, thinking. “Uh, there aren’t a lot of clubs or anything like that here since most of us own businesses and spend all of our time in our shops. But you know, there is the restoration group.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“It’s a little group I’m a part of. We go around and touch up all the buildings on Main once a month, making sure everything is as pristine as it can be. The town is known for its beauty, and we take a lot of pride in that, so we divide it up and spend one day a week going around cleaning our sections.”
“Ahh, so that’s how you keep everything so perfect. That’s really smart, and it sounds like fun. Who do I talk to if I want to join?”
“Uh, that would be me.”
“Really?” Her eyes widen. “So you run your parents’ shop, volunteer at the fire station, and run the beauty-restoration group? Is there anything else you do?”
“Maybe a few other things here and there, but nothing too big.”
“Well, you might as well run for mayor at this point.” When I don’t say anything, her mouth falls open. “If you say you’re the mayor, I’m going to have to leave right now.”
I laugh, my shoulders rising and falling. “No, I’m not the mayor; that’s a job I don’t ever want. The crap he has to deal with on a daily basis is annoying and petty. Not a fun job.”
“Sounds horrific.” A smile peeks past her lips. “Have you ever complained to the mayor?”
I laugh and don’t even try to mince my words. “Oh, plenty of times. I have no shame in it. When you want something done, you badger the mayor until it’s taken care of.”
“Oh, Griffin.” She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “And here I thought you were better than that.”
I chuckle quietly. “So are you all settled in the house?”
“For the most part. There are some things I desperately need from a department store in order to function, so I’ll call Bart tomorrow and have him take me to the nearest store that’s not an artisanal bakery.”
That Second Chance Page 7
