CHAPTER FOUR
Chelsea
Derek leaned over my back and whispered in my ear, “Did you hear Paul’s having another bonfire tonight?”
I straightened my posture and cleared my throat. Mrs. Sawyer was standing at the register, paying for sunscreen and a stack of gossip magazines. I nudged Derek away with my elbow. I hoped Mrs. Sawyer didn’t see the way I had turned a deep crimson.
“Here you go, Mrs. Sawyer.” I slid the magazines into a paper bag and handed over her change.
“Thank you. Today’s my first beach day all week, and I can’t wait to get caught up with my celebs.” She patted the bag.
I smiled, unable to relate to her fascination with gossip. But Mrs. Sawyer lived across the street from my parents and I couldn’t be rude to one of their neighbors. Although, on Brees Island, everyone was technically a neighbor.
“Bye, Derek.” The woman winked before leaving through the storefront glass door.
I twirled on my heels and shot him a stern look. “What was that all about?” My neck still tingled from his breath. It annoyed me that it felt kind of good.
“What? You think I should ask Mrs. Sawyer to go with me instead? I think she’d say yes.”
I lowered my voice and looked down the aisle, making sure there weren’t any other customers in the store. “You know what happened between us was a one-time deal, right?”
“One time? I don’t think so. That’s what you said the last three times.” Derek shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and arched a shot with the wrapper. “Score.” The paper landed in the center of the trash can.
“I’m serious, Der.” I could tell he wasn’t taking any of it seriously—not my attempts to deflect his advances or dissuade him from asking me out.
The flirting had been relentless since high school. He had cooled things off when I left for college, but now that I was home indefinitely, he was in hot pursuit. It didn’t help that I had stayed over at his place. I blamed the dullness of the island—that and his body. Derek definitely didn’t look like that when we were in high school. He was athletically built, tan, and eager to show me his new wave tattoo. Although, ever since we had crossed the friendship line, I feared that we would never be able to get back what we had on the other side. We weren’t even sleeping together, but maybe I was wrong thinking guys were better equipped to handle casual hookups.
And what exactly was I doing? Hooking up but not having sex? It was stupid.
“I will pick you up at eight.” He pointed at me as he backed out of the space behind the register.
“Der, you’re not listening.” I jammed my hands on my hips and gave him my most severe glare. It wasn’t working. He winked in response.
Then the words smacked me. They came out of nowhere.
“No, you’re the one not listening. See you then. I’ve got to get all the kayaks checked in. It’s that time.”
I didn’t hear the last part. I had already ripped a handful of register paper from the feed and grabbed a pen from the mason jar on the counter.
Why can’t you give me what I want?
It can’t all be in my head
It’s so easy to feel since we’ve met
Could it be that you’ve always known
And you’re ok leaving me alone
I tapped the pen against my cheek. Gah! I couldn’t get the next verse out. As suddenly as the words popped into my head, the rest had slipped away. Time was the only answer. Time with my guitar, my hammock, and no more distractions.
“Miss, do you have any crab nets?” An older gentleman whose shorts were embroidered with marlins stood in front of the counter.
“Huh?” I shook my head. “Oh, crab nets. Yes, yes, we have plenty of crab nets.” I walked from behind the counter, leaving the lyrics next to the register.
I guided the man to the side of the store lined with fishing tackle. “Do you need child size or adult size?” I asked.
“There are different sizes for different size crabs?” He scratched his head.
I repressed a sigh. Tourists. “No, I meant is the net for a child or an adult? We have some with extenders that makes it easier for the kids to scoop up crabs if they’re crabbing from the piers.”
He chuckled at his mistake. “Oh, I see. Well, we need both. We’ve got the whole family here for two weeks. My grandkids, my son, and his wife. It’s going to be a big time.”
The register paper fluttered when the air conditioning kicked on. Panic gripped me as I saw it slip to the floor. I should have stuffed it in my apron pocket.
I forced a smile. “That sounds nice. Where are you from?”
This was part of the job—making small talk with tourists. My parents had been in business for twenty-five years, but my grandparents had run the store before them. It was a family business based on southern hospitality, and I needed to keep my manners even though my lyrics were lying somewhere on the floor.
“Pennsylvania. Our friends from church vacationed here last summer, and they couldn’t stop talking about it. Thought we’d give it a try. This is our first time on the island.”
I resisted the urge to tell him how obvious that was. “Well, I hope you and your family have a great time.” I reached for the crab nets. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“How about some of these fishing gadgets?” He pointed at one of the pink lures. “The boys might want to try it. They’d have fun trying to catch something.”
“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.”
This time I wasn’t able to hold back the sigh that escaped my lips. I closed my 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.”
I trudged to the register and placed the nets against the wall. My father was never around when it was convenient, like when there was actually a customer who needed help. I knew exactly where he was. Anger singed along my temples.
The Pennsylvania man was focused on the filament lines and silver weights. I had at least a second to find the paper with the freshly minted lyrics. I dropped to the floor and reached under the bottom of the shelf to rake my fingertips along the floorboards. I hit something soft and gooey. Ick. Derek 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 my hands and knees, I shouted over the counter, “On my way.”
As usual, the lyrics would have to wait.