That Second Chance Page 9

  “Everything okay? Did you get everything you needed?”

  I nod, feeling incredibly nervous all of a sudden. I want to see if he’s hungry, but I’m also afraid he might think I’m being too presumptuous, “asking” him to dinner.

  But with my stomach aching, I decide to jump in and ask. “I got everything. I was just wondering if you were hungry. I’m kind of starving over here for dinner.”

  He starts to back out of the parking spot. “Yeah, I planned on stopping at a little place on the way home; it’s about seven minutes away. Sells wraps and sandwiches, has some of the best lobster rolls in the area. Is that okay with you?”

  “That would be absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me. I was feeling the hunger start to take over about ten minutes ago.”

  Guilt consumes me. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

  “Don’t. You’re good.” He straightens out the truck and takes off down the freshly paved road flanked by little mom-and-pop shops, the rumble and power of the vehicle shaking my seat beneath me. When he’s back on the main road heading toward Port Snow, he asks, “So you drove out here without anything?”

  “I actually flew—bought my car at a used dealership and was driving it for the first time when I almost ran into the moose.”

  “What? Really?” He shakes his head. “Shit, that’s a bad first drive.”

  “Tell me about it, but hey, gives me more of a chance to walk around and get to know the area better.”

  “I hope you weren’t planning on walking to Pottsmouth.”

  “No, never, but strolling around town is nice. I feel like I see something new every day.”

  “Good, just stick to town. There are some insane tourists around here, so be careful.”

  My heart warms at his concern. I like that he’s warning me, protecting me, like we’re becoming good friends. At least that’s what’s happening in my overactive imagination. And hey, if one of my first friends in town just so happens to be the hottest guy I’ve ever met, then so be it.

  “I will. Thanks. And I do have some things on the way from LA. My parents are driving out with my stuff a little later. I have some summer meetings at school and thought it would be nice to get to know the town a bit before I had to report in. And it’s nice to get some new things. The plates and pots I had were hand-me-downs from college. It was about time I upgraded, you know?” And it’s time I made a house of my own, rather than relying and waiting on my parents to help.

  “Well, if I’d known you were going to get so much, I could have taken you to some other stores.”

  I shake my head even though his offer is super sweet. “No, Walmart was perfect. Don’t forget I’m working on a teacher’s salary here.”

  “Ahh, yes. It’s insane how little you guys get paid, but we won’t get into that right now.” He slows down the truck; up ahead, there’s a little shop on the side of the road, bulb string lights coming off the side, providing light for a picnic-table area. With white siding and black trim, the shop has a big sign on the front that says TANYA’S TACKLE. Griffin turns off the road and into the shop’s small, gravel-paved parking area.

  Okay, that’s weird.

  “Is this a tackle shop?”

  Griffin puts the truck in park and turns toward me. “Trust me, it’s good.”

  “Is it okay to admit I’m a little nervous? What if there’s a worm in my sandwich?”

  Winking, he opens the car door. “It’ll just add some flavor.”

  Not the answer I was looking for, but with a brave foot forward, I follow him to the take-out window on the side. There are a few people milling about, sitting at the bright-red picnic tables, enjoying lobster rolls and homemade chips. The shop backs up to the woods, and with the sun setting over the trees, little lightning bugs reveal themselves in the distance, blinking in harmony, providing a beautiful backdrop for dinner.

  Griffin steps up to the window and is greeted by a woman with gray-brown hair tied at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a bright-red polo and has a pen behind her ear.

  “Griffin, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

  “Hey, Tanya, how have you been?”

  “You know, working and welding whenever I get a chance.”

  Griffin places his hand on the counter and leans in a bit as if he’s sharing a secret with Tanya, but he talks loudly enough for me to hear. “How are the beehives?”

  Tanya visibly lights up, and an even stronger appreciation for Griffin falls over me. He’s genuinely a nice guy, knowing a little bit of something about everyone he meets. Personable and kind—two wonderful qualities.

  “Oh, they are great. I just upped my hives to four colonies. I spent the weekend building new boxes for them, side by side rather than on top of each other. It will be so much easier for me to lift with my old-lady bones.”

  “Four colonies? That’s going to keep you busy.”

  “Just what I want.” She gives Griffin a wink, pulls her pen down from her ear, and holds up a pad of paper. “What can I get you tonight, handsome?”

  Griffin turns to me. “Is a lobster roll good for you?”

  “Oh yes, please, and some homemade chips and a soda would be awesome.”

  “Did you get that?” Griffin asks Tanya. She nods. “Make that two, then.” Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet, and I stop him immediately.

  “Let me.”

  He scoffs, as if I’m ridiculous for even offering, and opens his wallet.

  “Griffin, I’m serious. You did me such a favor tonight. Let me pay you back.”

  “You don’t need to pay me back, Ren.” He pulls out a few bills and hands them over to Tanya before I can even reach into my purse. “Plus, do you even have cash on you? She doesn’t take cards.”

  “Damn it,” I mutter. “Well, I’m going to make it up to you.”

  “No need.” He takes the change from a smiling Tanya and throws a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. He nods toward the tables. “Want to sit down?”

  “Sure.” Once we’re seated, I say, “The minute my kitchen is set up and ready to go, I’m going to make you a casserole. Oooh, or I can make you my famous southwestern taco potpie.”

  His brows rise in interest, his hands slowly rubbing together. “Taco potpie? Tell me more about that.”

  “It’s so good. Basically it’s like a taco but inside a pie shell. Black beans, taco beef, corn, cheese, and salsa. It’s a real delight.”

  He licks his lips, keeping his eyes trained on me, the blue a little darker than I remember. “I’ll take your taco potpie as payment. Sounds amazing.”

  “Then it’s done!”

  “Food is an easy way to win me over.” He pats his rock-hard stomach, the sound of his hand hitting it dense. Just looking at him, there’s no doubt in my mind that he is sporting some kind of six-pack under his lobster shirt.

  “So what got your parents involved in the fudge business?”

  “My parents grew up in Port Snow and wanted to make something more of the town, so they bought the Landing, which was actually an old tackle shop just like Tanya’s. My grandpa invested in their business, and they fixed up the joint, started playing around with fudge recipes. My mom was really good at baking, so they combined the two. They saw the potential in Port Snow and helped take it to the next level.”

  “So your parents are kind of pioneers, bringing the town to life.”

  “They are, and I’m not just saying that because they’re my parents. They created a lucrative business and then helped start renovating the shops on Main Street. They care a lot about the town and put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into making it into the charming place it is today.”

  “And that’s why you’re part of the restoration committee, right? To preserve what your parents helped create.”

  A small blush creeps over his cheeks as he runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I see their dedication, and I want to carry it on. Make sure this is
a place people want to visit for decades. We’re constantly thinking of new ways to bring in more visitors, especially during the off-season. We want to keep the town alive year-round. It’s one of the reasons we have the huge lobster festival at the beginning of fall, to keep the visitors coming. The festival is three days of celebration, all things Port Snow, all things lobster. Kind of marks the end of summer, a culmination of all the hard work we put in over the summer months. We sponsor a huge booth where we sell out of fudge every day. Half of our proceeds actually go toward new supplies for the teachers at the school.”

  I prop my chin on my hand, taking in his passionate, animated face. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as proud of where he lives. It’s so beyond endearing that it makes me want to feel the same kind of passion and claim Port Snow as my hometown.

  I’ve only known Griffin for a few days, but with each passing moment, I realize how much more I really want to get to know him.

  Before I can respond with another question, Tanya arrives at our table and sets a tray of food before us. It bears two rolls piled with lobster, homemade chips, and two sodas. My mouth waters immediately, and I remind myself to mind my manners and not shove the entire lobster roll down my throat.

  “Enjoy, you two.” Tanya pauses, eyeing me for a brief moment before turning back to the tackle—uh, I mean lobster shop?

  “Okay, do I just dive right in? Or is there a special way to eat this?” I pick up one of the sandwiches, admiring the bright-red-and-white lobster piled high, crowning the sliced and toasted New England roll. Drippings of butter slide down the lumps of lobster meat. This is going to be so good.

  Griffin picks his up with one hand, knowing exactly how to handle the sandwich, and nods before taking a giant bite. He raises his eyebrows at me as he chews, his cheeks puffed and a sly look on his face.

  God, he’s so adorable.

  Mimicking his approach, I try to fit my mouth over the entire thing but fail miserably, so I take a much smaller bite, letting all the flavors mix perfectly together as I chew. Butter, lobster, and the roll it’s toppling over. Sheer perfection.

  And the company sitting across from me couldn’t be any better either.

  “This is so freaking good,” I finally say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

  He lifts a chip from the plate between us and plops it in his mouth. “Told you this place was good. Don’t let the exterior deceive you; there are so many hidden gems like this. Stick with me, and I’ll show you all you need to know.”

  I plan on it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  REN

  As I stroll into town the next morning, visions of the night before play through my head. After finishing dinner, we drove back to Port Snow, listening to the radio and talking about the kind of tunes we’d listened to growing up. I boasted about all the boy bands that had held my heart in their talented hands, and Griffin talked about all the classic rock he loved listening to, particularly Journey and Queen.

  He refused to acknowledge my teenage musical tastes, shaking his head and laughing, while I gave him credit for enjoying the classics.

  When we pulled up to my house, he helped me unload the truck and even helped me carry my bags into the cottage.

  I thanked him again and sent him on his way, three houses down. From my window, I sneakily watched him take his new laundry basket into his house on the other side of the street and flip light switches on as he made his way around the first floor.

  It was a little stalkerish, but you can’t blame a girl for being intrigued.

  I made great time in unpacking things and setting up my house so that it was much more functional, and I finally began to feel like my little house was becoming a home.

  I smile to myself at the thought as I walk to Snow Roast for some coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

  The door to the shop rings, and I step inside. There is a little bit of a line, so I pull out my phone and check my email while I wait, just to make sure I’m not missing any important school meetings that might have popped up last minute. The door rings, and I can feel someone step up in line behind me.

  Poor Ruth—it must be busy like this every morning.

  “Good morning.” The voice, deep and warm, startles me; I turn around to find Reid dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt, hair wet, face freshly shaved. Of all the brothers, he looks the most like Griffin. It’s almost freaky. The only real difference between them is that Griffin has a little more wisdom in his eyes.

  “Good morning.” I put my phone back in my purse. “How are you, Reid?”

  “Good.” He smiles as I catch him giving me a quick once-over. I’m wearing a red sundress today and flip-flops. My hair is straight and pinned behind my ear with a bobby pin. Casual but cute—just in case I happen to run into anyone important. Ahem, Griffin. “How was shopping last night?” He raises his eyebrows.

  Griffin must have told him he was taking me up to Pottsmouth; that, or the gossip train struck again.

  “It was good. I needed so many things; I felt bad Griffin had to wait for me.”

  Reid waves me off. “Nah, I’m sure he didn’t care.”

  The door to the shop rings again, and I look past Reid’s shoulder to see Brig stepping into view wearing a black ball cap, a black shirt, and black pants, the same blue eyes he shares with his brothers shining under his dark brim. When he spots me, he smiles brightly.

  “Ren, hey.” He pats Reid on the shoulder. “Buying for me this morning, bro?”

  “In your dreams,” Reid mutters.

  “Come on, buy your baby brother breakfast.”

  The doorbell rings again, and this time, a polished and sophisticated man walks in, sporting a button-down, slacks, and a tie; his hair is pristinely styled, and he wears a watch on his wrist that oozes power.

  Rogan.

  When he spots his two brothers ahead of him, he rolls his eyes. “You two dipshits ran in ahead of me, didn’t you?”

  Reid and Brig both exchange smiles; they knew exactly what they were doing.

  “Forget it. I’m not buying you breakfast again. Three times in a row is far too many. You idiots have money. Get your own goddamn breakfast.”

  Whereas Griffin, Reid, and Brig all have more outgoing personalities, Rogan seems a little more reserved than the others, like there’s some deep story behind the shadow of his eyes. I’d be interested to find out what that story is.

  The boys bicker behind me as I step up to the counter, Ruth looking flustered as she takes in the Knightly men behind me.

  “Good morning, Ruth. I’ll take a large black coffee and turkey-bacon-egg sandwich.”

  Head tilted down, she jots down my order. “You got it.”

  I’m reaching for my purse when a hand stops mine. A wave of cologne washes over me, and I turn to find Rogan. “I got it.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.” I stumble through my words.

  “I’m buying these other two breakfast. Might as well treat my new tenant as well.”

  He doesn’t even give me a chance to argue before he’s ordering for himself and his brothers.

  It takes a few minutes before we get our orders, but once we do, Reid and Brig take me by each arm, guiding me toward a table, where we all sit down, even Rogan. I look from one to the other, a little surprised about our impromptu breakfast and a little intimidated by how attractive they all are.

  Hell, I shouldn’t complain. I have three out of the four Knightly men staring intently at me.

  “So . . . what’s going on?”

  “Thought it would be nice to get to know you better, unless you have somewhere to be,” Reid says, taking a big bite out of his croissant.

  “Just have to do some grocery shopping after this. Get some ingredients for a potpie I’m making your brother tonight.”

  All three glance around at each other, having some kind of silent conversation.

  Brig is the first to speak. “You’re making him dinner?”

  “Yeah, just as a
thank-you for taking me to Walmart last night. He only got a few things when I went all out and stocked up my house. I felt bad, so I offered him taco potpie.”

  “Taco potpie?” Reid asks, sipping on his tea. “That sound delicious. I might have to crash your dinner.”

  “You have to close the shop tonight,” Rogan says to him, giving me a quick once-over. But it’s not in a sexual way, more assessing, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve.

  “I can close quick.” Excitement in his eyes, Reid says, “So that means you don’t care about what happened in New Orleans? That’s fucking refreshing. All the women in town think we carry the plague.”

  My brow furrows. What the hell is he talking about?

  I’m about to ask when a tall figure walks up behind him, halting all conversation.

  Hands on his waist, in his typical lobster shirt and jeans, Griffin stands over all of us. “What the hell is going on here?”

  All three brothers startle and together take large gulps of their drinks, their eyes cast down, as if they were just caught red-handed.

  Brig adjusts his baseball cap, the first to address their brother. “Just trying to get to know our new algebra teacher, that’s all.”

  “Yup, that’s all,” Reid adds, a nervous tilt to his lips.

  Not even addressing his brothers, Griffin brings his gaze to me. I quickly notice that he’s the only Knightly brother not to give me a once-over, and for some reason, that bothers me. I want his eyes to trail over my body, to take in the shape my dress gives me and the way my tan shows up against the fabric.

  “Are they harassing you?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, they’re being sweet. Rogan actually bought me breakfast.”

  “He did, did he?” Griffin eyes Rogan. I would melt under his stare, but Rogan coolly sips his coffee, not affected in the slightest.

  “I think I have your other brothers to thank. They guilted him into buying their breakfast too.”