That Second Chance Page 8

  Brig’s comment about her borrowing my truck rings through my mind. “You know, if you need someone to drive you,” I blurt out, “I have to head up north to grab some stuff myself. You can always hitch a ride with me.”

  “Really?” She brightens. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

  Imposing? Yeah, there will be some imposing, but only because I’m beginning to crave this woman’s company, and that’s terrifying on many levels.

  For one, I don’t want to be in a relationship or even consider the possibility. And two . . . no, I’m not going to let myself think about it.

  Even though I want to retract my statement as quickly as it left me, I soldier on. “Not at all. I could show you around Pottsmouth.”

  “Pottsmouth?”

  “The town about twenty miles north that will have everything you need.”

  “They couldn’t have picked a better name?”

  I chuckle, turning back toward the ocean, a breezy feeling passing over me. “I think they ran out of names by the time they made it farther up north. Pottsmouth, Houndshead, and Coxachy are some of my favorites.”

  “Coxachy? What is that even? Well, thank goodness we live in whimsical Port Snow, right?”

  I lean toward her. “Originally named Duck Foot, Maine, until 1946, when it was voted to change to Port Snow.”

  Her mouth falls open, humor playing at the corners of her eyes. “It was not named Duck Foot, Maine.”

  I nod gravely. “Afraid so. Thankfully the mayor at the time saw its potential as a tourist town and pushed for a name change.”

  “Sheesh.” She studies the ocean. “Port Snow is so much better.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GRIFFIN

  “Why are you rushing now?” Jen asks as I stack the twenties up and rubber band them together.

  “I have to head up north, want to get it done as quickly as possible,” I half lie. Plus, I unthinkingly told Ren to meet me here so we could take off right when I finished work. I check the clock for what feels like the hundredth time; she should be here in five minutes.

  “Ah, that’s why you drove your truck to work. I thought that was weird.”

  “Yeah, just want to get up and back as quickly as possible. You know I hate going to Pottsmouth.”

  True fact. I’m really a small-town type of guy and avoid larger cities as much as possible. Pottsmouth is a college town, full of traffic and hipsters.

  There’s really nothing wrong with a hipster, but when they look at me with those judgmental eyes, as if to ask, Why haven’t you grown a beard? it puts me in a bad mood.

  But for a tourist, Pottsmouth is another town to check off your list of places to visit. Rich with history, it’s been through its fair share of fires, crime, and social change. Known for its unique restaurants and bar tours, it’s crawling with people, and I avoid it like the plague, but it does boast the closest Walmart, which is what Ren needs.

  I spent last night trying to think up things I needed to get from the store because, frankly, I don’t need anything; I was just being a nice guy. So I came up with a list of basic essentials.

  I think I also put laundry basket on my list. I do need one of those. The handles on mine broke weeks ago. So at least the trip won’t be a complete loss.

  “I’m surprised you’re actually going up there. You normally order things online before you drive up north.”

  Isn’t that the truth.

  “Yeah, uh, needed a laundry basket.” From the look on Jen’s face, laundry basket isn’t going to cut—

  The door to the shop rings.

  Shit.

  I don’t have to look up to know who it is. I cringe to myself as Ren’s head pokes through, blowing my cover completely.

  “Uh, sorry, I wasn’t sure if I should come in or not. I can wait outside.”

  I force a smile, avoiding all eye contact with Jen. “You can come in. I’ll be right there. I’m just going to stick this money in the safe in the back.”

  Without another word, I turn and make my way to the office, Jen hot on my heels. Before I can say anything, she jumps in with her stupid oohing sounds.

  “Oh myyyy, just have to get a laundry basket, huh?”

  “Can you not right now?”

  She pokes me in my side, annoying the shit out of me immediately. “You like her, don’t you?”

  “She’s a neighbor who needed a ride; I offered her one.” I stuff the money in the safe and snap it shut. “That’s it. Please, for the love of Christ, don’t make this a thing.”

  Jen is wearing a shit-eating grin when I face her. “Oh no, I am so making a thing out of this. I don’t get much to talk about around here, between the store and the kids. I think this is the most excitement I’ve had in a month.”

  I pat her on the shoulder. “Then I’m going to need to have a talk with your husband, because this is the opposite of exciting.”

  I turn to walk away, but she pulls on my shoulder. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t try to downplay this. You’re going out with a girl.”

  I shush Jen and push her farther back in the office. “Can you keep your voice down? Jesus, Jen. I’m not going out with her. We are going to Walmart. I’m getting socks, she’s getting house essentials, and that’s it. There is nothing else involved.”

  “Are you going to hold hands on the way up there?” She twiddles her fingers together.

  With a giant eye roll, I say, “I’m leaving.”

  “Wait. Just tell me this: Do you think she’s pretty?”

  Do I think Ren is pretty? I’d be blind to think otherwise. She’s gorgeous, actually—and quirky, and a little long winded at times, and she has a thirst for life I’ve never seen in another human being.

  She’s more than pretty.

  But I don’t answer that way.

  “I mean . . . yeah, she’s pretty.” I shrug.

  Casual, perfect.

  And it’s enough for Jen; she begins clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

  I narrow my eyes at her, giving her my best “I’m going to kill you” look, but it has no effect.

  “Cupid hit my little brother with a giant moose. Oh, this is so wonderful.”

  “I swear to God, Jen, you need to stop right now. There is nothing going on between me and Ren, and there won’t be anything either. I’m not interested in dating anyone. It’s time you realize that.”

  “Thank you so much again for letting me hitch a ride. This is really helpful.”

  “Not a problem.” I keep both hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white, shoulders tense.

  Ren decided to show up to the shop in a little white sundress and strappy-looking sandals that give her two extra inches in height. Her hair is half-up/half-down in some messy knot on the top of her head, and she’s wearing a sweet perfume that is doing all kinds of things to me—things I don’t necessarily want.

  At first glance, I had to force myself to look away from her ample cleavage, prominently on display but in a classy way, the kind of way that has men begging for more.

  I might be on a strict no-dating policy, but hell if I can’t at least take a look.

  She’s stunning. Tan with long hair that hits just past her shoulders and wide green eyes framed by some of the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.

  Reid was right—if she’d been my algebra teacher, I would have paid a hell of a lot more attention in class.

  “It’s so pretty out there. Have you ever been to California?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve never been to the West Coast, actually. I don’t have a lot of vacation time, and when I do, I go camping or down to Vermont.”

  “Oh, I bet camping is gorgeous here. In California it’s more like camping in the desert unless you go up to the mountains. The trees here are amazing, too—so different from what I’m used to. The pine trees stretch so high it feels like you’re always under a canopy.”

  “Yeah, the woods are dense h
ere, so you’re constantly battling pine cones and needles, but it adds to the experience. Do you camp often?”

  “Often? No.” She chuckles. “But when I get the opportunity, I totally take it. I might wear dresses, but I also like putting on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and roughing it in the woods. I have no problem peeing on leaves.”

  That makes me laugh. “No problem with leaf peeing? Good to know. There’s a little camping group in Port Snow. I know you said you were interested in joining stuff. That might be something you like. It’s people of all ages; we get together and rent out a few camping sites, share stories, and have a good time.”

  “Really? That seems like so much fun. Think they would let me in?”

  The corner of my mouth lifts. “Since I’m in charge of it, I’d say you could get in.”

  “You’re in charge? How on earth do you have the time?”

  I shrug. That was the point when I started forming all these clubs. Anything to keep me busy. Anything to keep me out of the house, where I’d be alone, remembering, obsessing over the what-ifs.

  And now all the activities and work have become part of my everyday life.

  “I find the time,” I answer, shifting in my seat. “So what brought you out to Port Snow? The job?”

  “Yeah, I really wanted to slow down my life, create a community around me, rather than going through the motions. I wasn’t really ever a part of something in LA, and it made my days mundane. I got in a car accident last year, and it made me really think about what I wanted in life. Slower, small-town living was right up my alley.”

  “Car accident? So the moose run-in wasn’t your only one?”

  She grows quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I was in a really bad one a year ago. I was rear-ended from behind on the freeway, and it turned into a seven-car pileup. I barely survived.”

  I glance in her direction for a second, taking in the stitches on her forehead and the light bruising around the cut. It’s been a few days, and I have yet to hear her complain about the pain or the fact that she almost totaled her car for what sounds like the second time in her life. She must be a really strong woman.

  I like that about her.

  “Shit.” I rub the back of my head and think back to the panicked look in her eyes when I found her in her car. “I kind of wish I’d known that when I was pulling you out of your car. I would have reassured you more that everything was going to be okay.”

  From across the cab, she places her hand on my leg, her touch blazing a shot of heat to my core, warming me up in an instant. I eye her hand for a brief second, taking in how small it is compared to my thigh. “You were wonderful. Don’t second-guess yourself. You really kept me calm and helped me control my hysteria.”

  “Still, I feel like I would have handled you differently.”

  “There’s no way you could have known; don’t even think twice about it. I thought you did a wonderful job. Very compassionate. And the way you tackled that hill without taking a second to catch your breath? Impressive.”

  I glance at her quickly. “Want to know a secret?”

  “Always.” She perks up, turning toward me.

  I lick my lips, humor dripping from my tongue. “The entire time I was climbing the hill, I was praying to whoever might listen to not let me slip. The guys would have never let me hear the end of it. Slip down the hill with victim in arms . . . yeah, not good.”

  “Well, you made it look seamless.”

  “Didn’t feel like it, but thank you.”

  She crosses one tan leg over the other, the hem of her dress coming higher on her thigh, showing off just how toned her legs are. Christ. I tear my gaze away, remembering to focus on the road ahead—moose are prevalent in this area, after all.

  I clear my throat, trying to take my mind off the expanse of sexy leg to my left. “So . . . algebra.” I inwardly roll my eyes from the way my voice squeaks. “Uh, what made you choose math to teach?”

  From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile as she fidgets in her seat. “Is it weird to say math chose me?”

  “How did it choose you?”

  “I was in seventh grade and a total outcast. I didn’t really have any friends since I was more focused on my schoolwork than being the popular girl, and that was okay, but it wasn’t until I found myself lonely on the weekends while everyone else was going to the mall and to the movies that I realized I was in desperate need of friends. Well, trying to make friends in middle school is like trying to convince Friends fans that Joey and Rachel should have been together: pretty much impossible. I was sitting outside my favorite teacher’s classroom one day at lunch when these kids were walking by talking about how they needed someone to be on their math team. I was pretty decent at math, so on the spur of the moment, I stood up and told them I was available. It took a little bit of convincing, but they ended up giving me a chance, and just like that, I was a mathlete.”

  I can’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off my face from hearing the genuine excitement in Ren’s voice.

  “From there, I fell in love, and hard.”

  “With one of the guys on your math team?”

  “Nope.” She pops the p. “I fell in love with math. I was infatuated with solving problems, and it became my life. Yes, I had friends, but more importantly, I found a new appreciation for the subject. It was so cut and dried—you either did it right or you didn’t, no gray area. It became my safety blanket, and when I was applying for colleges, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: share my love of math with kids, show them the kind of magic it is.”

  I’m silent for a second, soaking in her story, appreciating the honesty and passion behind it. She’s the first person I’ve ever met who’s had such passion for numbers. Hell if I don’t weirdly find it sexy.

  There has to be something wrong with me.

  “You must think I’m silly.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not even a little. I think it’s . . . hell, I think it’s amazing, the love you have for something we’ve all taken advantage of. Math is everyday.”

  She practically bounces in her seat when she answers. “It so is. Ah, you get me, Griffin.”

  I chuckle. “Yes, I get you.”

  On a deep sigh, she lolls her head to the side. “So tell me a secret about Port Snow, something only locals really know.”

  I pause the truck at a stop sign and shoot her a quick glance, only to find a huge smile on her face and her sweet lips wet and plump, calling out to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been truly attracted to a woman to the point that I keep sneaking glances at her. But there’s something else about her that holds my attention. Maybe it’s that she’s new, or that she doesn’t know my past, or maybe it’s her habit of asking question after question, not letting there be a moment of silence between us.

  I hate to admit that I kind of like it.

  Contemplating this latest question, I drag my hand over my mouth. “Hmm . . . have you been to the general store yet?”

  “I popped in for some basic items like peanut butter and jelly and plastic plates. Why? Is there something I need to know about the place? Is there a secret door I don’t know about? Like, you pull on a lever that’s really an old baguette, and a shelf opens to a hidden lair?”

  “What?” I chuckle. “No, but interesting imagination you have there.”

  “It can get me into trouble sometimes.”

  “I could see that.” I make a right-hand turn. “There’s no secret lever, but Oliver, the guy who owns the store, he makes the ice cream, and there’s a secret stash in the back that he only sells to locals. New concoctions that he’s trying out. It’s a gold mine if you get there early enough. Every Thursday night he offers his exclusive flavors, first come, first served. To have access, you have to give him the code word.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “Well, what’s the code word?”

  I shake my head, a smile playing at my l
ips. “Oh no, I’m not about to tell you that just yet. I don’t think you’ve earned the right to try Oliver’s special creations.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope. You’re not ready.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her breasts lift higher, just begging for me to take in an eyeful, but I reluctantly keep my eyes forward.

  “How on earth am I not ready? I have a Port Snow residency, don’t I?”

  “You have to prove yourself first.”

  “How on earth do I do that?”

  I shake my head. “Hell if I know. I just know the elders are very specific about who knows, and if I went and gave you the code too early, I could get into some real trouble. And I’m not in the mood to deal with their antics. Sorry, Ren, but my lips are sealed.”

  She huffs. “Then why the hell would you tell me that secret?”

  I shrug and smile. “Couldn’t think of anything else.”

  “That’s just cruel, Griffin, very, very cruel.”

  “Hey, maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll score you some ice cream this Thursday.”

  “Oh, now you’re bribing me? I see how it is. Tsk, tsk, Griffin. I thought you were better than that.”

  God, I really like how playful she is.

  I press my lips together to keep from smiling way too damn much. “Never said I was above bribery. Sorry, neighbor.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  REN

  Oh my God, he’s so freaking cute.

  Socks, toothpaste, a laundry basket, and a pack of beef jerky.

  And here I am with half of his truck bed full of things: towels, pots and pans, dishes, some bedding, and so much more. I had two carts full. It was slightly embarrassing, but like the gentleman he is, he helped me load everything into the truck.

  My stomach grumbles as I hop up into the cab. It’s past seven, and I’m feeling really guilty that I’ve kept him so long. He was done shopping in five minutes, while I was going down aisle after aisle, loading up. He must be so over this entire trip.

  I bite my bottom lip and look over at him as he slides into the truck as well, letting out a puff of air before clipping himself in with his seat belt. The truck roars to life, and when he takes a look over his shoulder to pull out, he catches me looking at him.