“So, what brings you to Beaufort?” I ask, her small hand still engulfed in my own. It’s soft and dainty, a contrast to the sass she’s been throwing my way today. The way her eyes dance each time she shoots a zinger at me causes my interest to grow. I don’t know what the hell possessed me to reach for her arm, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. The moment my rough fingertips made contact with her smooth skin, my skin began to buzz and hasn’t stopped.
“Work.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
She sips her water and then leans forward, her face lighting up. “I’m a nurse. I graduated in the fall and took a job with a travel agency.”
The way she immediately checked me for injuries earlier makes sense. “Damn, I should have faked an injury earlier.”
Her eyes widen before she purses her lips. “That’s not funny!”
“Maybe pretended to need mouth to mouth?” I lift a brow.
One corner of her mouth tips up as she rolls her eyes. “Now you’re just being crass!”
I nod. “Probably.”
“Definitely.”
“Definitely.” I grin. “So, travel nursing, what’s that exactly?”
“Basically, I go wherever I’m needed. I’m contracted at Beaufort Memorial until November. Then, after that, I’ll go where they send me next.”
“So, you’re only here temporarily?” I do the math in my head. “Six months?” I don’t know why that thought causes disappointment to wash over me.
“Yep. Although my contract with the travel agency is only for a year. So, I figure, if I find a place I like, then maybe I’ll stay.”
Her hand is still in mine, but I grab the straw that’s lying on the table with my free hand and begin twirling it through my fingers. Her accent is light, and I’m caught up in the soft, musical sound of her voice. The more this conversation flows, the more caught up in everything about her I become.
“Well, what do you think of our lovely slice of the south here?” I ask.
Beaufort is an amazing town. The charm, the atmosphere, and the weather all make for a perfect place to live. Travel magazines are constantly claiming it as the best place to live, retire, or visit.
But the town hasn’t always been kind to me. And there may be times that I love it, but more often than not, I find myself just wanting desperately to escape it.
She pulls her hand from mine and tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen from her messy bun behind her ear. “Well, I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours, so I can’t really say.” Her cheeks pink. “And so far, I’ve managed to be rude to a local and almost run him over.”
I do my best to look stern and tell her, “Yeah, not the best way to start out in a new town.”
She nods. “But, I do prefer small towns over bustling cities. And I love the water.” Her eyes flutter shut, her face softening. “There’s just something about the ocean that calls to me.”
I’m entranced by the way her perfect lips curve, causing her nose to crinkle slightly, her long lashes to flutter. She looks peaceful and serene, and my chest tightens with the desire to feel that, too. “Maybe I was a mermaid in a past life.” She opens her sparkling eyes and pins me with a look that causes the air in my lungs to leave in a whoosh.
The dreamy look in her eyes and the softness of her face as she talks about the sea makes me want to get swept away by her. She’s beautiful, a fact that I’d noticed the moment I laid eyes on her. But, the fact that she can simultaneously make my heart pound and give me shit makes her the most attractive woman I’ve ever encountered. And the realization that I want to spend the rest of the day with her, getting to know her, causes my heart to pound, my stomach to ache.
I clear my throat, hoping that the action will also clear my mind. “The ocean calls to me, too. One of the reasons I never moved away from this place. But if you were a mermaid, then I was probably a pirate. And not one of those cool ones like Johnny Depp. I was probably more like that guy whose face was an octopus. What was his name?”
She laughs loudly, for the first time, and the sound hits me in the gut.
“You should do that all the time.”
“What?” Confusion lines her face, but her eyes continue to dance.
“Laugh. It’s beautiful. But, of course it would be, because you’re beautiful.” I can’t believe that I’ve just said that, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something even more embarrassing.
Her head tilts to one side and she makes a show of studying me. “You sure you’re the same jerky guy from yesterday? Maybe you have a twin brother and he was the one working the bar?”
I lift a shoulder. “You caught me. I’m the nice one. And, apparently, the cheesy one, too.”
She leans forward and drops her voice. “I love cheese.”
She may be over my behavior yesterday, but shame washes over me nonetheless.
I need to apologize.
To her and to Dani.
I also need to stop being a dick, but that’s something that’ll take more time than we have today.
So, for now, I start with Grace.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I tell her, all traces of humor gone. “I’d had a shit day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
She nods, causing the strand of hair to fall from behind her ear again. “You’re right,” she says, tucking it back in place. “But I was rude, too. So, let’s just call it even.”
I extend my hand across the table, and her brow wrinkles in confusion. “Let’s start over. I’m Bronnson Williams.”
She slides her hand into mine and my skin begins to hum again. I give her fingers a squeeze before shaking her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Bronnson. I’m Grace Monroe.”
Her hand still firmly grasped in mine, I tell her, “Beautiful name, Grace. Are you new in town?”
She nods.
“Well, I’ve lived here my entire life. If you need a tour guide, I’d love to show you around.”
She makes no move to pull her hand from mine, but her eyes shine as she nods once more. “I’d like that, Bronnson.”
“Call me Bronn.”
“Okay, Bronn,” she says softly, pressing her lips together.
Shelley skips over, her hands full with our lunch, and interrupts the moment. Even though my mouth is watering as the smell of fried food wafts over, I’m disappointed that I have to let go of Grace’s hand.
Her face falls, and I’m relieved that it isn’t just me that feels something.
Shaking my head, I tell myself to get it together. I’ve only just met her; it’s too soon to be feeling anything. But, I do feel something. It’s just a little niggling in the back of my mind, but it’s there. And it’s whispering to me to not let her get away again.
“Here y’all go!” Shelley beams as she sets the po’boys in front of us. “Y’all need cocktail sauce?”
I nod. “Bring us a couple lemon wedges and hot sauce, too, Shel.”
“You got it,” she sings and then skips away.
I clap my hands together. “Alright. First, and most importantly, do you like spicy foods?” She begins to answer, but I hold up a hand. “Now, don’t answer too quickly. The entire rest of your life hinges on this one answer.”
She rolls her eyes and I chuckle.
Shelley comes back with the items I requested and sets them down without a word. Once she’s disappeared back to her homework, I look at Grace. “Okay. So, spicy, yes or no?”
She nods. “Spicy, yes.”
I blow out an exaggerated breath and pretend to wipe sweat from my brow. “Shoo. Thank God.”
Her lips are pursed, and momentarily I’m distracted by them.
I blink. “Okay, so to properly eat an oyster po’boy from Red’s, you have to squeeze a bit of lemon on the oysters and then apply the appropriate amount of hot sauce.”
She quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me. “And what is the appropriate amount? Should I watch you to ensure that I do it correctly?”
I make a point of studying her. Resting my elbows on the table, I steeple my fingers under my chin. “I’m not sure you’ll get the technique right. Better let me do it for you this time. Don’t want to ruin your first experience because of a rookie mistake.”
She pushes her plate to me and gestures at the sandwich. “Have at it. But if I hate it, I want you to know that I’ll forever blame you. So, make sure you have a steady hand.”
I wink. “These hands?” I hold them up. “These hands know exactly what they’re doing.”
Grace pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and peeks up at me through her lashes. “Show me,” she whispers, and I swear to God, if it were possible to fall in love with someone based on two words, those two words would have done the trick.
Slowly, I grab the bottle of hot sauce and, making a show of it, unscrew the cap. My eyes never leave hers and she holds my gaze, her blue eyes dancing with amusement.
Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from hers and focus on the task at hand.
She watches intently, not speaking as I dab the Texas Pete on each one of the oysters in her sandwich, making sure to get it exactly right.
It started off as a joke, but now I feel the need to make it perfect for her. As if the entirety of whatever this is brewing between us hangs on the outcome of her taste buds.
My body flushes. I don’t know what this is, but I know that I want it to be something. I haven’t been in a relationship in years, if you could even call a few dates with the same woman that. It wasn’t that I was uninterested in dating, only that there weren’t a lot of options in this town.
Whatever this is, I don’t want to fuck it up because I couldn’t back up my big talk.
I finish preparing her po’boy and slide the plate back to her. “There. It’s perfect.”
She doesn’t speak, just grabs the sandwich and brings it to her mouth. I watch intently as she takes a bite, scanning her features for any signs that I’ve fucked it up. She chews with her eyes closed and I hold my breath, waiting for her approval. As ridiculous as it sounds, I need her to approve of my choices of lunch for us. As if the approval of the food will also equal an approval of me.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, her lids pop open and a wry smile graces her face. “You were not lying. Your hands are very capable.” She licks her lips, then dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever had hands that knew what they were doing better than yours.” She winks at me and I bark out a laugh, letting out the breath I’d been holding.
She dissolves into a fit of giggles along with me, and I strain my ears to hear her over my own laughter. I meant what I’d said earlier, her laugh is beautiful, and I want to memorize it.
“Seriously, how was it?” I ask her once I finally catch my breath.
She picks the sandwich up again and takes another big bite. With a mouthful of food, she tells me, “Amazing. Better than your pasta yesterday. You were totally right.”
My chest puffs and I nod, then grab my own sandwich and dig in.
“Hey, aremt ewe guh uss ho sah, too?”
Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging slightly open.
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Uh, sorry, I don’t speak food-ese,” I joke.
She huffs and then makes a show of chewing her food and swallowing. “I said, aren’t you going to use hot sauce, too?”
I set my sandwich down and grab my napkin, wiping the crumbs from my face. I’d been meaning to shave this morning, but the boat was rocking a bit harder than normal and I didn’t want to end up looking like Edward Scissorhands had been my barber.
“I don’t like spicy foods,” I tell her and watch as her eyes turn into saucers.
“What?” she squeaks. “But. But, you… You said…” she sputters, and try as I might, I can’t stop from laughing.
Again.
I’ve laughed more this afternoon, with this woman that I barely know, than I have in the last month.
“Nah. I’ve got a sensitive palate. Me and spicy don’t mix. But my dad told me once to never trust someone that didn’t like hot sauce. And he was the smartest man alive.” I lift a shoulder and then set my napkin back on the table. Picking up my sandwich with one hand, I point it at her. “You, Grace, passed the test.” I take another bite and then wink.
Grace sits across the table, staring incredulously for about thirty seconds as I chew my food. Finally, she grabs a pickle chip and dips it in the spicy ranch that my pathetic taste buds can’t handle, and pops it into her mouth, pushing herself back in the booth. “More for me, I guess.”
She crosses her arms over her chest once more, tempting me with another view of her spectacular cleavage, and makes a show of looking me over.
“So, I’ve proven my trustworthiness. But what about you? Can I trust you?”
I rest my forearms on the table and lean across. My gaze intense, I whisper, “Probably not.” I’m only partially kidding.
But I want her to trust me. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
She continues to mindlessly pop pickles in her mouth while tapping a finger against her lips. Finally, after a few moments, she puts me out of my misery.
“Only if you take me somewhere that serves fried fish platters and has the local IPA on tap.”
Sweet Jesus, I think I just fell in love.
I stroke my stubble. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have caviar and champagne?” I’m only half-joking. She isn’t the type of girl to want to go to a dive bar and gorge in fried foods.
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “Let’s live a little.”
I lift my chin, trying to play it cool, even though I’m downright excited that she agreed to dinner, and fucking giddy that she doesn’t want a fancy restaurant. “Alright. Hole in the wall it is. I know just the place.”