Page 44 of Shifting Sands
“Erin? You still there?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’m just trying to calculate the odds that he has a wife and three kids he’s hiding from you.”
“Oh my God, stop.”
“Or a dungeon. Or, like, a bunch of jars in his fridge, labeledPast Relationships.”
“You’re the worst,” I say through a laugh, but I can’t help the flicker of doubt that shadows the edge of my voice. “Seriously, the guy probably lives in some tiny apartment somewhere, maybe even off the island, and he was embarrassed for me to see it.” I sigh. “I mean, it tracks. He wears shoes that are falling apart and drives a beat-up truck.”
“Yeah, but he also paid for our night’s drinks without blinking,” she says.
He did do that.
“I know. And I tried to give him my card.”
“Maybe he has an open tab that they let him pay off over time, and he just wanted to do something nice for you since he couldn’t afford much more.”
“I wouldn’t care about that,” I say.
“I know that, but he might be used to snobby vacationers who look down their noses at him.”
“That’s true …” I trail off as I think back to our lunch.
“What?” Erin asks like she can read my thoughts.
“I met him at a garage where he works, and he was wearing these jeans that were pretty beat up. Staples held them together,” I tell her.
“Staples? Really?”
“Yeah, I mentioned it to him. Just playing around. He said someone had ripped them at the bar, and he used the stapler to mend them.”
“He works two jobs, so it’s not like he’s a bum,” she says.
“Exactly. There could be a million reasons he’s struggling to make ends meet. He hasn’t got anything to be embarrassed about,” I say.
“So, maybe don’t press to go to his place tonight,” she says.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. But I’m moving my stuff back to the guest room, just in case.”
She whistles low. “You’re so in full Hallmark movie territory.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Oh, come on. A beautiful, single young woman goes to a small coastal town to house-sit for her elderly aunt, where she meets a mysterious yet incredibly attractive bartender with a tragic backstory. My friend, you’re just a few sad piano notes away from a Christmas special.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t stop smiling. “It’s not that serious. I mean, we’ve been texting. We’re hanging out. Some … extracurriculars.”
Erin laughs. “Yep, that’s how it all starts.”
“What? I thought you said I could have an island fling!”
She hums like she’s about to launch into a full romantic dissection, but changes course. “You can, and you should. Just be open—that’s all.”
“Open for what exactly?”
“Anything.”
“You’re crazy,” I mutter.
