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He was sweet, attentive, with just enough of an alpha streak to make him appealing.
He was just different than the men I had known, asking me about my day, actually listening to my answers.
It was nice to have attention from someone you didn't have to fear.
"How you doing, Helen?" he asked, head ducking toward his ear as it often did when he greeted me.
"Dying of heat exhaustion," I informed him, grimacing. "Can I get you something, or are you just stopping by to chat?"
"Both, I guess."
"The usual?" I asked, knowing he had a preference for peanut butter with a little chocolate drizzle on top.
He nodded, and I moved off to make it, smiling when Charlie let out a string of curses as he, I imagined, dug into the cotton candy.
"Hurry up. It won't count if it is melted."
He fell silent then as he ate, as I exchanged some pleasantries with Connor.
"See you at ten," Charlie said, slamming the boat down in front of Connor before he shuffled off. Likely to get something to rinse it all down with, if not throw it all up.
"At ten for what?" Connor asked, voice a bit guarded.
"He won a bet. So I have to go to a concert on the beach with him."
"Have to?" he asked, clearly picking up on the situation, and also plainly disliking it. "It's not my place, Helen," he said, the words spaced carefully, like he was trying not to say the wrong thing, "But I feel like I need to say that he is not a good guy."
I caught myself before I could say He works for my father, not wanting to implicate him in any way since Connor likely knew all about my father.
"I appreciate the warning, Connor," I said, genuineness slipping into the words because I did truly appreciate it. "He just won a bet. That's all."
That appeased him.
But the skittering, jumping feeling in my chest and belly let me know that the words were clearly a lie.
That a bet was not all this was.FOURHelenI cursed my uniform in colorful ways - as colorful as the godawful shirt itself - when the owner showed up to take over and close up, Friday nights always being a big cash night, and not trusting any of us to carry that large sum of money.
I stood in the makeshift break room, carefully applying mascara and eyeliner, trying to fluff some life back into my hair before deciding the elastic band wrinkle would ruin the look no matter what, so just tied it back up, sighed at my shirt, grabbed my purse, and moved out the door at the back of the stand.
"See you Monday, Helen," Brett, the owner, called to me as I rounded the front.
"I'll be here, oh," I said, the friendly smile I had for Brett falling to one that felt shy as Charlie moved out of the shadows at the other side of the building, eyes moving over me for a short second before he shot me a smile that made my air catch in my chest. "Hi."
I was never going to get any awards at this male/female interaction thing.
But luckily for me, Charlie seemed to find it charming, his bright eyes dancing a bit. "Hi," he shot back. "You ready?"
"Yep," I agreed even if my belly was flip-flopping like it disagreed with the word.
"You're gonna want to kick out of those," he told me jerking his chin at my white Keds-clad feet, little splatters of red and brown on the tops of the toes from the syrups that always managed to get everywhere.
My gaze went to his feet, finding them bare, a pair of thick sandals poking out of his back pocket.
Bare feet.
There was something so unexpectedly intimate about that. I wasn't sure I had ever seen the bare feet of a man in my personal life before.
"Right," I agreed, using the toe of one to wedge off the heel of the other. Leaning down, I reached for one, my other foot not quite ready to balance me, sending me surging forward.
"Whoops," Charlie said, a smile in his voice as his big hand closed around my forearm, the contact sending a shiver across my skin, making my head shoot up to find his eyes on me, gaze intense, making me wonder if he felt the shiver as well, or if I was alone in the moment.
"Helen, you need a walk to your car?" my boss called, his dad-voice on loud and clear.
I yanked my arm away self-consciously, turning, giving him a small smile. "We're heading to the concert."
"I can hear it already. You're late."
With that little reminder, I got out of my shoes, holding them in my hand as we moved down the path that led to the beach.
The oppressively hot afternoon had given way to a chilly night, the wind whipping off the shore, making the air wet and cool as we walked toward the sounds of guitars and drums set up on a stage that was taken down every weekend to make room for more tourists to lay down towels or chairs during the week.
