That Second Chance Page 14

  And when he showed up at my door with pizza and an offer to help with the chairs, I thought that maybe, just maybe, something might spark between us. But when he made no move, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been reading him wrong this entire time.

  Maybe I have been.

  Maybe I’ve been misinterpreting his looks.

  Maybe I’ve been living in a fantasy.

  “Good morning,” Jake says, walking up to me with a cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming out to help.”

  I try to hold back the yawn that wants to pop out, but it’s useless. I cover my mouth, but Jake sees before I can hide it.

  “Early, I know, but the scones and coffee will be worth it.”

  I take the cup from him and hold it up as a thank-you. “I work for free food. It’s how you can get me every time.”

  “If that’s the case, how about some free crab cakes for cleaning my fryer?”

  I pat him on the shoulder as I blow on the steaming coffee. “I’m not that desperate, Jake.”

  He snaps his fingers in disappointment. “Damn it.”

  “Good morning.” Rylee and Ruth stroll over with a plate bearing scones in all different flavors, the aroma making me think the early wake-up might just be worth it. “There is apricot, raspberry, cinnamon chip, and of course blueberry.”

  Ruth hands me a napkin, and I contemplate which one to take. “They all look so good. Which one do you think I should take?”

  Perched on the back of a pickup truck, hauling soil, Beck calls out, “Take the apricot.”

  Rylee shakes her head. “He’s just saying that so you don’t take the blueberry, which is his favorite. We have a sitter watching the babies right now, so he’s feeling a little rambunctious.”

  “Maybe I’ll take the blueberry, then.” I glance over at Beck; his mouth hangs open in shock. I laugh. “Just kidding. I won’t take your precious blueberry. I’ll go for the cinnamon chip.”

  “Smart choice,” Brig says, stepping over to us as Ruth hands me the pastry. “Griff had one already this morning. That’s his favorite.” Oddly, Brig wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  The power washer shuts off, and when Griffin looks up, his eyes immediately lock on mine, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He waves before setting the power-washer handle off to the side, wrapping up the hose in a tight circle. And when he walks toward us, I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. There’s a swagger in every step he takes, purpose in his gait.

  The way his T-shirt rides against his strong pecs, wrapping around his thick biceps, tapering at his waist, not to mention the way his jeans hug him in all the right places—it’s hard to look away.

  When he reaches us, his eyes quickly rake over me before he sticks his hands in his pockets. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Sure, anytime.” I take a bite of my scone while everyone is silent, intently watching our interaction. It’s rather uncomfortable, but thankfully Griffin steers the conversation to more comfortable topics.

  “Okay, the picnic tables should be dry soon. Let’s start on the landscaping and then move on to the tables. It doesn’t seem like we’ll have a lot to do because this little section has been pretty well maintained.”

  “I’ll take credit for that.” Jake cutely raises his hand. “My staff is really good at wiping down the tables every night and keeping things as clean as possible.”

  “They do a great job,” Griffin says, adding, “But that truck, dude, we need to shine it up.”

  “I’m on it, don’t worry.”

  I glance over at the food truck, and from what I can see, it looks fine, but then again, I’m pretty sure the people of Port Snow have higher standards.

  “Before we get started, has everyone met Ren?”

  “We have.” Rylee leans over and puts an arm around me. “And we’re snagging her for flower planting and replacement while you boys pick weeds.”

  “No way. Last time you worked on the flowers, you left us to doing all the weeding,” Brig complains.

  “Then you should have called it first if you were going to be upset about it,” Rylee counters and loops her arm through mine. “Come on, Ren, we’ll show these boys what real work is all about.”

  As she walks me toward a pickup truck with a bed full of flower trays, I look over my shoulder to find Griffin watching me. He gives me a smile and then turns toward the guys, motioning for them to join him on the cobbled ground, where they start meticulously pulling small weeds from between the cracks.

  Flower beds seem so much more appealing right about now, even though it’s not working with Griffin.

  I finish up my scone, licking the last delicious crumbs from my fingers while Rylee gives me the lay of the land.

  “Okay, this isn’t an easy job, but it’s better than being on our hands and knees the first half of the morning. Jake has five flower beds around the area. We’re just going to replace some of the dead flowers and spruce them up, make them real showstoppers.”

  “I love that. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Have you ever planted a flower before?” Ruth asks.

  “I used to help my mom every spring in the garden. I’m so your girl for this project.”

  “Really?” Ruth gets excited. “This is great. We’ve had a few people come to help, and Rylee has scared them away. She’s too intense when it comes to the flower beds.”

  Rylee scoffs. “They have to be done a certain way, or they look like crap. That’s not my fault; that’s just holding people to higher standards.”

  “Well, don’t worry. You’re not going to offend me. So please tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like.”

  Ruth holds out a pair of gardening gloves, the palms and fingers dipped in a pink wax. “Don’t worry; she’s never been one to keep her mouth shut when it comes to the flower beds.”

  “They’re a vital part of making the town pretty. Sorry I want to make sure they’re perfect at all times.”

  “I get it; my mom was the same way. Tell me what to do, and I’ll get started.”

  “Why don’t you start assessing the flowers and taking out the ones that need to be replaced? Rylee and I can bring you replacements based off what you take out.”

  “That works great.”

  I slip on my gloves and snag a shovel from the garden bucket. The first flower bed is very close to the truck, so Rylee and I can still chat as we get to work.

  “Are you second-guessing joining this little committee?”

  I chuckle and start digging out an old purple iris that’s wilted. “How about I tell you tomorrow?”

  “I like that,” Ruth says. “Get the full experience before jumping to conclusions. That’s a true teacher right there.”

  “Why did you guys join?”

  “We’ve both been a part of the committee for a long time. My dad was a part of it,” Ruth says. “With Griffin’s parents, actually, and he always took great pride in making the town beautiful, so I wanted to do something to honor him. It also gives me some time away from the coffee beans, which is always a plus.”

  “Ruth dragged me along with her,” Rylee jokingly says. “And I kind of got attached to it, heading up all the flower beds in town. I roped Beck into it. He absolutely adores the town, though, and wants to make sure it stays in pristine condition. He’s actually from Los Angeles like you.”

  “Oh, really? What brought him out here?”

  “Me.” Rylee’s smile couldn’t be any bigger as she sets trays of flowers by the bed I’m working on.

  “That sounds romantic. Care to share?”

  “They met at a wedding they were both crashing in Key West,” Ruth chimes in. “She tried to move on, and he wouldn’t let her. Let’s just say he was smitten right away. And our friends Victoria and Zoey wouldn’t let her leave the island without spending some quality time with him.”

  “Oh my gosh, sounds like a dream. So he decided to move out here to be with you?”

  “Not right away,”
Ruth says, clearly relishing her chance to tell Rylee’s story. “There was some time apart and phone sex.”

  “There was no phone sex,” Rylee cuts in.

  “There was phone sex, babe,” Beck calls out from the sidewalk, making Rylee blush.

  I peek over at Beck and can’t help but wonder what phone sex with him would be like. Totally inappropriate, but that’s where my mind wanders. I bet he’s very good at it. He has enough confidence to pull it off.

  “Ignore him.” Rylee waves him off and turns her attention back to me. “So is there anyone special in your life?”

  I immediately feel multiple pairs of eyes fixate on me.

  How did I not realize I’d be put through the gauntlet today? I’m the new girl; they’re going to want to know everything about me. Hell, I would do the same thing if I were them. I just wish the first question wasn’t about my dating life, something that has been nonexistent for a while now.

  “Anyone special in my life? Unfortunately, no.” I pull out another iris.

  “So you didn’t leave anyone behind in Los Angeles? Can we expect a guy to come flying in any day now to tell you he made a big mistake and wants you back?”

  Ruth places a hand on Rylee’s shoulder. “Please excuse my friend and her wild imagination. She loves overdone romantic gestures that are usually fabricated. She is a romance author, after all.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry; she’s good. No, there’s no one. No unexpected claims for love on my end. If anyone comes flying out here to beg for me to come back, it’s going to embarrassingly be my mom.”

  “Ugh, my mom would be the same way if I left Port Snow,” Ruth says. “Then again, I’m all she has left. But let’s not talk about that.” She leans forward a bit. “Is there anyone you have your eyes on? You know, we have a lot of eligible bachelors in this town. And believe me when I say Port Snow knows how to grow them handsome.”

  “She’s right.” Rylee raises her eyebrows. “We have a lot of hot guys in this town. Starting with Tracker.”

  “Oh, Griffin told me about him.” I wave my shovel at them. “Said he’s a real man whore.”

  “Big time,” Rylee confirms while placing a new plant in a vacant hole. “Griffin was right, but Tracker’s also a good time; at least that’s what I’ve heard. I have no personal experience. And don’t forget Jake and Oliver.”

  “General store Oliver?” I ask.

  “Yup.” Ruth nods. “Such a shame that a man who can make ice cream that good is single; just doesn’t seem right with the world, does it?”

  “It really doesn’t.”

  “And there’s also Kent down at the deli, Brock at the Lighthouse, and the Knightly boys. All single,” Rylee says, motioning with her finger toward where the guys are picking weeds. I refuse to turn around and look at them. “But you have to watch out for the Knightlys, you know—oomph.” Ruth has not so nonchalantly elbowed Rylee, who stares down her friend with murderous eyes. “Hey, you clipped my side boob. That hurt.”

  Skipping the apology, Ruth clears her throat and motions with her eyes, shifting them back and forth. The exchange is really odd and uncomfortable as they silently talk to each other.

  Uh, what is going on here?

  Since neither of them seems to bring the conversation back to the group, I take it upon myself. I awkwardly clear my throat. “Wow, that’s a lot of single men on the prowl. Any single teachers?”

  “Uh, Carson, the history teacher, is single, right?” Rylee asks Ruth.

  “I think so. Pretty sure he just broke up with his girlfriend from Pottsmouth. She didn’t like the commute to see him.”

  “Isn’t it, like, twenty minutes?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we never said she was a good person, just a person Carson dated. I think she was a nurse, right?” Rylee asks.

  “I think so.” Ruth nods. “She worked weird hours, and it was one of the reasons why they didn’t work out so well.”

  I take in their conversation, smiling to myself. There has to be something in the water here; even people who swear off gossip can’t help but pass around juicy information.

  “Do you want us to fix you up with anyone?”

  “What?” I ask, bringing my attention back to the conversation while replacing an old daylily with a fresh one.

  “If you want to try dating, we could hook you up with someone. I know all the single guys in town,” Rylee says. “I even made an Excel spreadsheet all about them for my single friends . . . who are just Victoria and Ruth at this point.”

  “You’re single?” I ask Ruth, a little surprised.

  “Yup.”

  “She’s lusting after someone but won’t tell me who,” Rylee says with an eye roll.

  “Maybe because keeping a secret between the two of us is almost impossible.” Ruth gives her a stern look.

  “Whatever. Just tell us if you want us to hook you up with someone. I’m a great matchmaker.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Ruth cuts in. “She has yet to make one lasting match.”

  Rylee pours dirt into the flower bed to fill in any holes. “It’s not my fault none of them see how genius my match was.”

  Turning serious and lowering her voice, Ruth asks, “Do you have a thing for Griffin?”

  “What?” I shout-whisper, looking over my shoulder to make sure none of the guys are paying attention. They’re all weeding, minding their own business, the waves crashing into the rocks hopefully drowning out Ruth’s question. “Why would you think that?”

  “Probably because you both get this cheesy smile whenever you’re around each other.”

  Do I get a cheesy smile on my face? God, I wouldn’t even know at this point; I can barely focus when he’s around.

  “I think I just smile because it’s good to see someone I know. Does that make sense?”

  “Wow, you’re a horrible liar.” Rylee really holds nothing back, does she? “Just be honest with us. Do you like him?”

  Before I can answer, Griffin calls over to us. “Hey, I don’t see much work going on over there, ladies. We’re going to sit and rest when we’re done weeding and wait until you’re done to start the picnic tables. So unless you want to be out here forever, I suggest you stop gossiping.”

  In my entire life, this is the first time I’ve ever been reprimanded for talking when I shouldn’t—now I know how my students feel when I catch them. I hastily finish up with the first flower bed and move on to the next, away from Ruth and Rylee and their probing questions.

  “How different are the beaches here compared to California?” Brig asks, his head tilted to the side, the sun starting to crest past the ocean, casting an orange glow all around us.

  After we finished the flower beds, I was paired with Brig to touch up the picnic tables with paint while Jake and Beck clean the food truck and Griffin and the girls tackle their own tables. It’s amazing how much we can accomplish in such a short amount of time. I’m really impressed with everyone’s hard work. It’s heartwarming.

  I consider Brig’s question, realizing my life in LA already seems like it happened a long time ago. “Well, the beaches in California are warmer. They also are mainly sand with some beach grass sticking up. But here in Maine, the rocks, gosh—I’ve never seen erosion like this. The rocks are so old, but beautifully shaved down by the constant push and pull of the waves. In California, the beaches are just sand; at least, in Southern California they’re just sand.”

  Thoughtfully, Brig takes in my answer. Griffin was so right—he might have a tough exterior, but he’s a huge softy on the inside and really chatty. “If you had to choose only one beach for the rest of your life, which would it be? What kind of beach do you see yourself sunbathing on, preferably in a little red one-piece? Do you have one of those?”

  I dramatically roll my eyes. He’s also a giant flirt. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a red one-piece.” It’s a two-piece, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I apologize.”

  “It’s okay; you
r politeness makes up for it.” Brig clears his throat. “I’ve always wanted to go to California. I really want to go to Napa Valley and get drunk off my ass from all the wine and then watch the sun set over the vineyards.”

  I study Brig, holding my paintbrush still for a few beats. “I think you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who wants to get drunk in Napa Valley.”

  “Oh, that’s not a common desire among men?”

  What man talks like that? “Not any man I’ve come across.”

  “Well, I’m a different breed.” He winks and then turns toward the others, watching their progress for a few seconds. “Have you been able to make some friends? Moving to a new town can’t be easy.”

  “You know, I was nervous at first; moving to a new place is always nerve racking, but I think the moose darting in front of my car was a blessing in disguise.”

  “It did a number on your car.”

  I chuckle. “I know, but I have to look past that. If it wasn’t for the moose, then I would never have veered off into the ditch, and then I would never have become friends with Griffin. He’s been so nice, introducing me to everyone. It’s almost like because I’m friends with him, everyone is friends with me.”

  “We do have that effect on people.” Brig smooths down his hair. He’s ridiculous. “If you’re in with a Knightly, you’re in with everyone.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yup.” He makes a long stroke across the picnic table with his pink-coated paintbrush. I’m not sure if he’s even covering any marks up, but he’s been too chatty to notice the job he’s doing. “If you want to meet some more people, I’m hosting a cheese-and-wine tasting at the garage tomorrow night.”

  I pause and peer at him, a furrow in my brow. I shouldn’t be surprised, but . . . “You have cheese-and-wine tasting at an auto shop?”

  He chuckles. “I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Behind the garage, we have a huge backyard where we hold events occasionally. I get together with the local cheese farmer and vineyard and put together a small event for the locals. I decorate the yard with some of my favorite Ford Mustangs, play music, and offer up samplings to those who come. It’s fancy as shit and fun. You should come.”