Sophie pulled over again. “Sure,” she said, her voice merely a ghost.
“Just a minute.” The sound of tape ripping came through the line. Sophie stared out the window, wanting to feel something but unable to. She’d already cried enough over Clint. She’d been angry for long enough. This was simply numbness, and Sophie welcomed it.
“It’s an unopened teapot,” Mom said. “Several bags of tea from Teavana….” She sucked in a breath, sending Sophie’s heart into overdrive. “There’s a letter here.” A few seconds of silence passed. “I’ll let you read that, dear.” The tenderness in her voice told Sophie she wouldn’t like what was in the letter. Sophie resolved not to read it when it came.
She’d had enough of dealing with the aftermath of Clint. It was time to move on.
“What else?” she asked, her voice hollow.
“There’s an airline voucher here, Soph. Seems like you can fly anywhere, anytime.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say. She and Clint had not been planning a vacation. She didn’t even know where he lived right now.
“OK, Mom. Thanks. Can you send it all to me?”
“Yes, I’ll just tape it back up and forward it.”
“Thanks.” Sophie took a deep breath to clear her emotions and focus her mind. “How are you?”
Seemingly relieved at the change in topic, her mom talked about the new dishwasher she’d bought, her friends at the senior citizen center, and the wonderful summer weather. Sophie marveled at how happy she sounded, how carefree. She realized that now that Mom could be herself, she was genuinely happy.
Sophie was doing what she wanted. She loved The Sandy Tortilla, loved the sense of freedom she enjoyed in the winter. But something was still missing in her life. As she mulled over what it was, an image of Mont and his bronze body flashed through her head.
Jenna agreed to work a double shift on Monday and Tuesday, so Sophie stayed open for lunch and dinner. But by Wednesday, with Polly out on a yacht in the bay and Tripp unable to spell most of Sophie’s menu, she was forced to close the taco stand. She spent the time off scouring Redwood Bay for anyone who could work a few hours each night for the next couple of months.
She already knew who she wanted in the cramped space with her, but since she hadn’t heard from Mont, she clung to her pride and didn’t call him. Instead, Sophie returned to the beach to find out if she could even afford him. She set up a beach chair a few feet from her stand and opened her ledger. Though focused on working out her budget, she still felt something shift when Mont arrived. Something imperceptible, but present nonetheless.
She glanced up as he said, “You’re not open tonight?”
The cloud of worry dissipated at the sight of his smile. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing his voice, seeing that smile, inhaling his cologne.
She scanned him, finding him in beachwear—gray shorts, white T-shirt, flip flops—along with his balloon-making belt snug around his trim waist. Her eyebrows rose.
“You said I could work your line.” He shrugged. “I’m shocked you’re not open. Is everything OK?” He peered at her, as if trying to peel back her skin and see inside her soul. Again, she wondered if he had X-ray vision or if he studied everyone the way he did her.
Sophie sighed and glanced toward the ocean so she wouldn’t cry. She rarely cried, because it was not pretty. And yet, with Mont standing there asking if she was OK, the tears pressed behind her eyes.
“Sophie?” He stepped closer, but stopped when she shook her head. Embarrassingly, she sniffed, and that was the beginning of the end.
The squeaking of a balloon couldn’t tear her attention from the water. She wiped her eyes, but it seemed like every opening on her face leaked. She hated how hot her cheeks became, how her head ached.
A gentle nudge on her shoulder forced her to turn. Mont held a yellow and orange balloon lion toward her. Grateful she had something to focus on, she took it. She found it remarkable that he could make something so intricate in a matter of seconds.
She kept her eyes down as she watched his hands. Strong and agile, they crafted a black and white zebra with several complex twists. Sophie imagined what his hands would feel like on her face, wiping her tears, holding her close. Moved into action by her thoughts, she took off down the beach, hoping Mont would follow.
He did, making his zebra gallop along beside her. She kept on in silence, not sure what to say. She thought if she opened her mouth, the sobbing would spill out. She walked with her face toward the sunset, the awkwardness between them growing with every passing second. Sophie knew she needed to speak first, and she appreciated that Mont was present, but not pushy.
When the ocean finally swallowed the sun, Sophie stopped. “Thank you,” she said, hugging her arms tight to her body. She’d completed enough of the budget to know that if she closed for dinner every night she’d lose way more than it would take to pay Mont and stay open. Still, she didn’t know how to order the words to ask him.
“Mont, do you think—” she began at the same time he said, “I can work the dinner shift with you.”
Sophie finally looked directly into his eyes, relieved by the warmth she found there. It seemed impossible that in the short time he’d known her that he could care, but he certainly looked like he did.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You can show up at four fifty-five.”
The right side of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “It’s a few hours a night,” he said. “I just need time to work out, and….” He trailed off like he didn’t know what else he did with his time. Sophie certainly didn’t, but she wanted to find out. She wondered if there was room in his life for her. At the same time, she was terrified he couldn’t make room. Or worse, that he could.
“I might need to leave on a moment’s notice,” he added. “My agent is on the lookout for anything that suits my portfolio.”
The hope that had been blossoming in Sophie’s chest deflated. “I thought you were auditioning for the part of that villain at the end of the month.”
“I am,” Mont said. “But things happen fast in the film industry.”
Sophie knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t press the issue. “If you can try to let me know in the morning, I’ll do my best not to freak out.”
He laughed, the sound nearly dulling the constant crash of the waves against the shore. Sophie smiled, marveling at how alive Mont was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that freely.
He took a half-step closer, leaning in so she could smell that wonderful mix of sweat and cologne. “I’d like to see you freak out.” He grinned at her, a heated glint in his eyes. “Just to see what would happen.” He held her gaze for a half-beat past comfortable, then turned and sauntered down the beach.
She watched him for a moment, admiring his silhouette, wondering how far he’d have to go for her to freak out. Judging by the swagger in his step and how it made her skin warm, she guessed not very far at all.
Chapter Eight
Mont should’ve made her work harder—she had been about to ask him to work for her. And he’d sailed in and volunteered.
It’s OK to be a nice guy, he told himself as they approached the closed taco stand. But a part of him wanted her to squirm while he contemplated whether he’d help her or not. Mont thought Sophie could do with a bit more squirming. Plus, it would’ve been fun to watch.
“Same pay?” He snuck a look at her out of the corner of his eye, fully aware he wasn’t sorry about spending the next several weeks with her. His strong feelings surprised him, because he hadn’t felt anything for a woman since Amber left last summer. Mont thought the past year of subdued emotions toward women would last forever. But Sophie unlocked what he’d been holding hostage in just a few days. Heck, if he was being honest, in just a few minutes.
“Same pay.” She stumbled in the sand, brushing into him, and he thought it might be natural for him to weave his fingers through hers and hold on.
He reached for her just as someone asked, “Are you guys opening tonight?”
Mont dropped his hand and turned toward the deep voice. A tall man stood a few feet away, his arm claimed by a red-haired woman.
“I haven’t seen you closed all season.” The man glanced at the woman. “I was telling my girlfriend how awesome your nachos grandes are.”
“I can whip some up, Jake,” Sophie said.
Mont wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow Sophie as she opened the side door on the stand. He nodded toward her, hoping to get some insider information. “Do you know her?”
“Sort of,” Jake said. “She’s older than me. She was always following me and my brother around when we were kids, trying to get herself killed by falling out of trees and getting stuck in barbed wire.”
Mont couldn’t quite make the image of a dirty tween climbing trees mesh with the high-strung business owner opening the window on her taco stand. “Give me five minutes,” she said, a smile gracing her face for only a moment. “You want to come help, Mont?”
“Sure.” He turned back to Jake. “It was nice to meet you.”
“How do you know Sophie?” Jake asked, and Mont thought he sounded more interested than he should. Or maybe now that he’d started thinking of how to make Sophie his, he assumed every other male would want her too.
“Oh, I don’t, really.” He hated how the words sounded, but he realized they were true. “I’ve just helped out here a couple of times, so….” He trailed off, not quite sure how to explain. “Well, I better see what Sophie needs.”
With the couple standing outside, it didn’t take long for a line to form. Mont donned his apron and wielded his pen with precision. As soon as the line died, Sophie closed the window.
Mont raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re closing early?” He thought for sure that because she’d opened late, they’d work as long as possible.
A faraway look clouded her eyes. She blinked, and her focus returned. “Trying to find balance.” She pulled out her ledger and nudged her phone to make room on the counter. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you promised me I’d get a secret every night at the end of your shift.” She cast him a playful look. “I haven’t gotten a single one.”
Mont grinned at her, sifting through the things he could tell her. “What do you want to know?” He had a few things hiding in his closet, but he wanted to tell her about himself. He had questions for her too.
“Where did you grow up?” she asked.
Mont’s enthusiasm waned. “Ah, the childhood stories. OK.” He leaned against the counter behind him. “I grew up in a small town outside of Topeka, Kansas. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Oskaloosa?”
Sophie laughed. “Is that even a real city?”
Mont enjoyed the sound of Sophie’s laughter before he answered. “Of course it is. And it’s a town, not a city. Less than a thousand people lived there when I was growing up.”
She returned to her ledger. “What did you guys do in Oskaloosa?”
“My dad farmed.” He didn’t say that his father wasn’t very good at keeping corn alive—and it practically grew itself in Kansas. “Oskaloosa is surrounded by cornfields, I’ll have you know.”
“Oooh. So you’re like the children of the corn?” The teasing sparkle in her eye caused Mont to wonder—not for the first time—what it would be like to touch her face, kiss her lips, run his hands through her hair and down her back.
He laughed, mostly to calm his now-racing blood, but also remembering the hours he’d spent napping in the cornfields surrounding his childhood home. “Something like that.”
Several seconds turned into silence while Mont tried to think of something more interesting to tell her. Past relationships, dropping out of college, and overcoming alcoholism didn’t seem like great conversation starters.
She stayed busy writing numbers, her brows knitted together in cute concentration. The sight of her—so tan, so windblown, so kissable—made him downright crazy.
He cleared his throat. “So that’s the secret for tonight.”
“You owe me for the past few shifts.”
“Put them on my tab.” He wasn’t sure why, but Mont needed to put the brakes on whatever this was. It was ridiculous. She was just writing numbers while he talked about cornfields. He shouldn’t be so hot, shouldn’t want to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.
She looked up, those tea-stained eyes stunning. “You can go. I’ll just be a few minutes putting in my food order for tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, hitting the accelerator again. This woman made him want to move at light speed, then slam on the brakes to see her fly toward him. He certainly didn’t have much to go home to, and the moon rising over the ocean was beautiful. Maybe she’d want to walk with him along the beach, this time without the cloud of worry and the chance of crying.
“You don’t need to wait for me. I have my car.” Sophie’s voice sounded near the edge of awkward.
Mont shuffled his feet, sensing defeat. “Well, I’m going to walk along the beach for a bit. The moon is amazing tonight.”
Sophie looked up like she might be able to see the moon through the roof of the shack. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You should look for yourself.” Mont hung up his apron and collected his balloon-making materials. “You know, for balance.” His zebra sat next to Sophie’s lion, and he left them for her since she obviously wasn’t going to come with him. Maybe he’d misread her; maybe she really only needed him to take her orders. The thought alleviated his fear about starting something with her he couldn’t finish—but also downright pissed him off.
Mont woke early, as he usually did. He tried to prolong getting out of bed, but in LA, he had to use the pre-dawn time for his exercise and the habit was hard to break. The sun rose just as early here as it did down the coast, and his furnished studio didn’t include the best blinds.
Giving up on getting any more sleep, he stood and stretched. After donning his running shorts, shoes, and a tank top, he hit the road. Pictures were tomorrow morning, and he needed one more ab. After only two miles, Mont dropped to the grass in the park and did sit-ups until his abs felt like fire.
By noon, he’d showered, read all the news on the Internet feeds, updated his Facebook status, and then found himself standing next to his car. He warred with himself about where to eat lunch. Sophie served a mean taco salad, something that adhered to his diet.
But he’d eaten there for the past several days, and while she hadn’t recognized him once, he wasn’t disguised today. He wanted her to see him. Which meant he couldn’t eat lunch at The Sandy Tortilla today.
He stopped at the post office to mail his mother a check. Working for Sophie certainly had a lot of benefits. He knew his mom would be upset with the amount he’d sent. But he also knew his parents needed it. And the truth was, he didn’t. At least not right now, with what Sophie paid him for a few hours of what he hardly considered work. If he didn’t need the money for his parents, he’d gladly work in that microscopic shack with her for free. Just to be close to her. To learn more about her. To breathe the same air.
As he got in his car, he glanced toward the lighthouse. He’d known it had brought him here for something, and he couldn’t help feeling like he had done the right thing by sending so much money to his parents.
He thought about Sophie as he ate a salad with grilled chicken at the local diner. His phone remained stubbornly silent during the meal, not that he expected her to text or call. She was working, and he knew how singular her purpose was while she manned the grill.
“Haven’t seen you in here for a while,” a woman said, drawing Mont out of his circular thoughts about Sophie.
He glanced up to find Lucy, a curvy woman with brown hair smiling down at him. She wore a uniform, and her tag said Manager under her name. Lucy was pretty, the same way Amber had been. Round face, porcelain skin, deep eyes that could
see right through any façade. At least Lucy’s eyes were simply blue, no violet in sight.
“I’ve been eating at the taco stand lately.” He smiled at Lucy, who had made him feel welcome in Redwood Bay the first time he’d met her.
Lucy’s face split into a grin. “Oh, I lose a ton of business to Sophie. Her tacos can’t be beat. Luckily the locals usually get their fill in both places.” She glanced at his half-eaten salad. “You need anything else? The salad is OK?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s great. It’s just—I’m full.” Mont tried to puff out his stomach to indicate how stuffed he was.
Lucy quirked her eyebrow. “OK, well, you let me know if you need anything else.”
“Do you know where I can find an apron?” he asked.
“An apron?”
“Sophie makes me wear this purple thing, and…” He grinned. “I feel like a fool in it. I need something black. Or blue.”
Lucy leaned her hip against the table. “So you don’t like looking like a fool in front of Sophie? I see how it is.” She smiled at him, a slow and knowing grin.
“I don’t like the color,” he said. “It has nothing to do with Sophie.”
“Sure, Mont.” Lucy pushed away from the table. “Try the hardware store. Taylor has everything, including aprons.” She glanced at his plate. “And try to eat some more. You’re going to make me think my food isn’t very good.”
“I will, thanks,” he practically shouted after her as she walked away. He wanted to eat everything in sight, no matter if it was edible or not.
One more day, he coached himself. Once the pictures were done, he’d eat steak and potatoes—and ice cream. His mouth salivated as he left the diner, his mind already focused back on Sophie and what secret he could share with her when he saw her that night.
“You bought your own apron?” Sophie’s voice from behind him sounded like calm music.
He turned as he finished tying on his new black apron. This one had a pocket in the front and went up around his neck. “This one’s better, right?”