“Fine.” But it wasn’t fine. She didn’t man the till—he did. She didn’t need to know he’d just agreed to new terms: A fifty-percent pay cut.
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday morning, Sophie woke in a panic, the dregs of her dream still fresh in her mind. She stumbled into her kitchen to her phone. No texts from Polly. No messages.
The relentless waves from her dream pounded in her head as she dialed Polly. No answer. It was somewhat early, but frustration still poured through Sophie. The dream had been so real, the storm so huge, the yacht much too small to survive.
She dialed Tripp, who answered on the second ring. “Hey, Sophie,” he said cheerfully, which calmed her racing heart a bit. Leave it to a fisherman to be chipper so early in the morning.
“Hi, Tripp. I haven’t heard from Polly. Do you know if she made it back from that yacht trip?”
“Yeah,” Tripp said. “She called me Sunday night. Said she was home, drying everything out.”
Sophie frowned, the last of her adrenaline wearing off. “Oh, OK. She hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
“Maybe she’s sleeping something off,” Tripp said suggestively, and Sophie managed a weak chuckle. “Hey, a group of us are meeting tomorrow morning about the local business collective thing.” Tripp cleared his throat. “After our peak hours of selling and Lucy’s breakfast rush is over. About ten o’clock. Can you make it?”
“Absolutely,” Sophie said. “At the diner?”
“Lucy says she’ll give us free coffee.”
“I’ll be there.” After hanging up with him, Sophie sent a group text to Lucy and Polly: Diner, today, 2:30. We need ice cream and a girls therapy session.
Or at least she did, since this thing with Mont was rapidly morphing into something Sophie couldn’t easily walk away from.
By the time she pulled into Lucy’s diner, it was a few minutes past their meeting time. Lucy waved to her from across the diner, where she and Polly were already seated. Sophie hurried toward them and slid into the booth across from Polly.
“You’re alive,” she said to her cousin, more relief in her voice than she realized she’d been harboring. She frowned, though Lucy nudged a chocolate chip cookie dough shake toward her. “Why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls?”
Polly’s hair looked sun streaked and shiny. She wore little makeup, but she didn’t need much. She looked…different.
“I fell in love with him,” she said, her eyes turning glassy with unshed tears. She shrugged as she swirled her plastic spoon in her ice cream. “No promises were made. He had to go back to Seattle.”
Sophie took a bite of her shake to give herself a minute to process. “So you didn’t call me back because you didn’t want to tell me you’d fallen in love with…what’s his name again?”
Polly did look different. Did love change how a person looked on the outside? Would Sophie be able to see it in herself? She glanced at Lucy, who looked just as miserable as Polly. What a group they made.
“Easton.” Polly sighed his name. She locked her eyes on Sophie’s. “And I didn’t call you because I knew you’d ask me all kinds of questions. And I know you think falling in love in a few days is ridiculous.”
Sophie reached across the table and covered Polly’s hand with hers. “Maybe for me,” she said gently. “But, honey, you’re not me.” Of course Polly could fall in love in less than a week. She was one of those women who could have a love-at-first-sight romance, get married and have lots of babies. Sophie envied her because of it.
The cracks inside Sophie suddenly felt sharp, jagged enough to cut. She took another big bite of ice cream to soften them.
“Lucy said it was a bit fast,” Polly said, spearing Lucy with a doleful look.
“It is,” Lucy said. “You can’t deny that.”
“She also tells me you’ve been seeing someone,” Polly said, her apparent grudge against Lucy melting as fast as her ice cream.
Sophie didn’t deny it. “His name is Mont. He’s been working for me in the evenings.”
“Oh, this is sunset-on-the-beach guy?” Polly’s eyes took on a new glow as she smiled. “Good for you, Soph.”
She cut a glance at Lucy. “I’m…he’s not here permanently.”
Polly waved her spoon like that was a trivial detail that could be worked out in minutes. “So what? Neither was Easton.”
“Yes, but that works for you,” she pointed out. “You don’t have a failed engagement in your past.” Or all the emotional scars that came with it.
Polly’s gaze softened. “I know, cousin.” She glanced at Lucy. “But Luce says he’s a nice guy. The sparks fly between you?”
Sophie nodded. “There are some sparks.”
“Please, Soph. You two practically light the taco stand on fire,” Lucy said.
Sophie spared Lucy a withering glare. “When was the last time you came down to my stand? Oh, that’s right. Not once this summer. So what do you know?”
Lucy grinned, only fueling Sophie’s frustration. “You went out with Blaine one time, just to get me to go out with Mont. So we like each other. Doesn’t matter.” She swallowed, because if she said the words out loud they might come true. “He’s going to leave Redwood Bay. He’s only here until summer ends.”
The words sounded as terrible as she expected them to. They echoed in her ears with a ring of finality.
Lucy and Polly exchanged a glance, and Sophie was suddenly sorry she’d called this therapy session. She’d needed to make sure Polly was alive, and she’d hoped for some advice on what to do about Mont. She could see now though, that the advice she was getting was Go for it! Ignore all your good sense, Sophie!
That had never gotten her anywhere worthwhile. Her father had been scared of change, of going against his good sense with his business. Sophie had done that, and even nine years later, she was still working winters at the diner. She couldn’t abandon reason in her personal life, too.
She glanced at her closest friend and her cousin. “I’m….”
“Scared?” Polly supplied.
“Not ready?” Lucy guessed.
“Maybe both,” Sophie said. “I mean, Clint left only a few months ago.”
“Nine months ago,” Lucy said. “Ten. Nearly a year, Soph.” Her voice was kind, soft, like she was speaking to a puppy that’d been kicked.
“Maybe I’m still broken,” she whispered.
Lucy put her arm around her. “Maybe it’s time to let it all go. Everything with your dad, with Clint. All of it.”
Polly nodded, and changed the topic to lighter things: the town’s upcoming Labor Day celebration. The truth of their words struck her in the chest, but she didn’t know how to let go of old hurts.
The grudge against her father proved that. She clung just as tightly to the way things had ended with Clint, and she wasn’t willing to add another set of regrets to the shattered pieces of her life.
The next morning, after buying her seafood, Sophie arrived at Lucy’s a few minutes before ten for the community business meeting. She found Polly saving her a seat and slid into the chair just as Lucy brought out a tray filled with coffee mugs.
“Hey,” Polly said, pouring in a spoonful of sugar. Hilary flashed her a brief smile, and Sophie noted she wore a turtleneck tank top. She must be suffocating in that thing, Sophie thought, but if anyone could pull off the look, it was Hilary.
“Hey, Pols.” Sophie took a sip of her coffee. “You know, I didn’t need fifteen texts about Mont last night.”
“Did I send that many?” Polly blinked innocently.
“He works with me. He actually asked who was texting, and I had to mute my phone.”
Polly threw her head back and laughed. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him to mind his own business.” Sophie finally relented and smiled at her cousin. “What? You thought I’d read your texts out loud to him? ‘Hey, Mont, my cousin wants to know if you do private modeling sessions with only Speedos.
Oh, and do you have a brother?’”
After that text, Sophie hadn’t been able to get Mont’s tanned muscles out of her mind. And she’d seen nearly all of them during the photo shoot.
“A girl can dream,” Polly said.
“You’re already in love, remember?” Sophie glanced away as Tripp stood. When she looked back at Polly, her face had fallen a bit. “How’s Easton?”
“He’s in Seattle.” Polly turned toward the front of the room this time.
“Good morning. I’m glad so many of you could make it.” Tripp beamed around the room, and Sophie followed his gaze.
She found Mike Hays, who rented jet skis and scuba diving equipment, seated at a table with Taylor, the owner of the hardware store. Next to them sat Greg Butterman, the owner of a stable who offered pony rides during the summer.
Lucy sat at the table next to where Tripp stood, with Millie; Shawn Lovell, who operated the only realty venture in town; and Diana Wixom, who ran the bakery.
Several more fishermen took the seats next to Sophie’s table, and a handful of souvenir shop owners rounded out the crowd.
Sophie knew them all. Had bought her wedding dress from Millie before Clint had called everything off. Then half her body weight in cookies from Diana on her way out of town to recover from the breakup.
“We’d like to form a co-op of local business support,” Tripp said, drawing Sophie away from the people who worked as hard as she did. A flash of admiration shot through her. She felt like she was among people who understood her, who wouldn’t judge her for missing Sunday brunch, or silencing phone calls from her mother during a busy service, or staying late to prep for the next day.
Tripp spoke of the advantages each business could provide for the others, and how he wanted to collect email addresses to continue the conversation and send out sign-up sheets. She slipped out early, with whispered instructions to Polly to sign her up, and headed to the beach so she could finish prepping and get The Sandy Tortilla open.
The weeks before Mont’s audition passed at light speed, and before she knew it, the time for him to leave for Spain had arrived. Sophie thought about it as she bought her fish from Hilary, as she made her way to the beach, as she opened The Sandy Tortilla and started chopping.
“My flight is at eight-forty Thursday morning.” Mont’s words brought Sophie’s attention from her morning prep, just as they had for the past couple of weeks. These words, though, didn’t carry quite the same romance as some of his other statements. She certainly didn’t welcome them the way she did “Good morning, Soph,” or “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” or “Did you see the sunrise this morning?”
Of course she hadn’t seen the sunrise. She and Mont spent hours together after work each evening, and she’d been waking later and later. She hadn’t complained once, not even when he took her on a midnight hike through the Redwoods.
When she’d finally confessed she detested hiking, he took her to movies. Or restaurants. Or down the beach. Mont seemed to know everyone in town, and he’d already charmed them all—especially Diana at the bakery, who gave him free cookies and an interested smile. Sophie wasn’t surprised. Someone like him didn’t go unnoticed.
“Eight-forty,” she confirmed. “And you’ll be gone all weekend.”
“Maybe longer,” he said, leaning into the doorway of the taco stand the way he always did. “It just depends on how well the audition goes.” He flashed her a smile she knew was meant to be reassuring. She’d learned to interpret his grins over the past couple of weeks. She could even decipher some of the emotion he hid so well. Right now, a vein of worry rode beneath his deep-blue eyes and perfectly white teeth.
“It will go well,” she said, returning to her cutting board. “I want updates every night.” And so did Polly. As late as Sophie had been out with Mont, she’d spent an additional hour responding to Polly’s multiple texts. It seemed as though she was trying to hang on to her romance with Easton through Sophie and Mont.
“You know there’s a huge time difference between California and Spain.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Sophie smile. They’d talked many times about the time difference, many times about his audition, many times about why he wanted to make his acting career successful.
Every conversation ended in a healthy make-out session, but she was wary about going further. She’d been careful to keep their private time limited to the taco stand, where sometimes he pressed her against the counter and ran the tip of his tongue down her throat until she whimpered.
Or sometimes the bench on her front porch—she was careful never to invite him inside. Her bedroom was too close and her willpower too weak. The bench was hard and small, but it hadn’t kept her from entangling her legs with his as he teased her earlobe with his mouth and let his hands roam over her stomach and across her back.
Or sometimes one of their cars, though that had been the most dangerous. His was the easiest to keep some form of separation, what with the gear shift in the way. Of course, he’d solved that by lowering her seat and climbing into it with her.
She hadn’t had to tell him she just wasn’t ready for anything more physical. Mont never asked her to go further. He seemed to be able to sense when she wanted him to kiss her and when she just needed to be held.
He hadn’t said as much, but Sophie knew he was waiting to see how his auditions went before taking that next step. She was too. No need to get her heart broken over a man she’d always known was going to leave, though she feared that no matter what happened, her heart had a price to pay.
“You promised you’d get up early to call me right after I finish dinner service.”
“Did I?” Mont’s footsteps came closer, but Sophie resisted the urge to turn into his arms.
“You did.” She ran her knife through an onion a little too roughly. His nearness made her every nerve stand at attention, no matter that he held her tight with those strong arms every single day.
“Remind me how early.” He stood so close, his breath washed over her ear.
A shiver scuttled across her shoulders, a reaction she couldn’t control. “Six-thirty,” she said, proud her voice didn’t scratch. She’d gotten better at hiding how strongly he affected her. Or at least she pretended she had. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” she said, still concentrating on chopping the salsa ingredients.
His arms came around her, wrapping her in a hug, her back to his chest. “You have Blaine coming in, right?”
She put down her knife and turned to face him. He didn’t drop his hands, but kept them securely on her waist. “Jenna is doing a double shift tomorrow, and Blaine will be here Friday night.”
Mont smiled down at her with a new grin she hadn’t quite seen before. There was no hidden emotion in his eyes, no well-concealed meaning. He simply looked at her openly, and if Sophie were a betting woman, she’d say his expression radiated…love.
She didn’t dare to hope for such a thing. In fact, seeing such fondness in his face caused a bolt of terror to explode in her chest.
He lowered his head toward hers. She stretched up to meet him halfway, needing to expend some of her nerves. She pressed into him, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her from being swept out to sea.
His lips tasted like coffee and something sweet. Jam, maybe. His mouth moved with slow precision, drawing her closer, deeper, farther. He broke contact first this time, taking the tiniest step away from her.
She touched her lips, and they felt swollen. When she looked at him, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Um, sorry?” he said.
She whacked him on the bicep, a laugh accompanying the action. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughed with her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Stroking her hair, he said, “I’m going to miss you.”
She pulled away, trying to find a balance between kissing him, missing him and keeping distance. She didn’t want to get hurt again, but she didn’t want to miss out on something great
because she was afraid.
“Don’t say anything,” he said, smiling a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tonight, and I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
She nodded and waved as he left. Once he’d gone, she slumped against the counter, tears pressing behind her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt like crying, especially after he’d kissed her so completely. The sensation had plagued her for weeks, always when she thought about Mont leaving Redwood Bay, leaving her.
“You want him to get this role,” she lectured herself as she pushed back the tears and returned to work. “He needs the money, needs the validation, needs it all. Do not ruin this for him.”
With her resolve firmly in place, Sophie finished her prep in record time.
That afternoon, Sophie found herself stepping inside Lucy’s diner. She needed a hot-chocolate shake—and a good chat with Lucy herself. She hadn’t kept her friend up on everything since the therapy session—she didn’t text obsessively the way Polly did—but Lucy ran the diner. She knew everything about everyone, whether she wanted to or not. After all, the diner only sat half a block from Polly’s flower shop.
She brought Sophie’s shake, set it on the table and slid into the booth opposite her. At two-thirty in the afternoon, the diner was empty.
“So Mont’s leaving for Spain.” Lucy’s dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her tan face and fake eyelashes. She had a naturally beautiful bone structure, something Sophie constantly tried to achieve herself with makeup.
“Yeah.” Sophie swirled the straw through the whipped cream. “For a few days. He has a big audition.”
“You sound reasonably happy about it.”
“I am.” Sophie glanced up at her friend. “He needs this. I want him to get the role.”
Lucy cocked her head to the side. “I think you’re actually telling the truth.”
Sophie shrugged. “Sometimes I think I am too.”
“But you like him, right?”
Sophie sighed. “I like spending time with him. He’s funny, and sweet and—”