I’m a little surprised when I walk up to the registers to find most of them are self-checkout. I guess I assumed that in a town this small, there would only be real grocery clerks checking people out, but I’m thankful to learn I was wrong because self-checkout is my jam.
From the corner of my eye, I seehimapproaching. My back grows hot, and I scurry to scan the last few items I have in my basket. Once I have, I insert my card and enter my PIN.
As the machine takes its slow-ass time to work, I glance sideways at Banana Man as he scans his own things, noticing that he doesn’t have that much. He wears jeans, Nike sneakers, and a blue hoodie. All paired with a Boston Red Sox hat, which instantly has my nose scrunching because I’m a die-hard Yankees fan.
The machine makes a beeping sound. When I look at the screen, I frown at the wordsCard Declined, and the back ofmy neck begins to sweat. I know there’s plenty of money in my account, but sometimes, when I’m traveling, the stupid bank thinks my charges are fraud, and they turn my card off.
Damn those precautionary fuckers, making me look like a loser right now. In the past, I had plenty of times when I really didn’t have any money in my account so my card got declined, but right now? I know for a fact that there is money in there, so this is annoying as hell.
Scrambling, I dig in my purse, but all I have is a few one-dollar bills and a five. I had a credit card, but I paid it off and canceled it a few months ago, and right about now, I’m regretting that very adult-like decision.
Pulling out my phone, I decide to call my bank. It should be open for another seven minutes, and hopefully, I can get this all squared away.
“Ma’am, is everything okay with the machine?” a man who works here asks, stepping beside me.
“Oh, um, yes.” My cheeks burn. “I am traveling, and my bank turned my card off, thinking the out-of-state charges were fraud.” I press the number one on my screen to speak to a representative and hold my phone up to the man. “Just getting it sorted out now.”
I hear a woman’s voice, but then the line cuts in and out, making it impossible to understand her.
“Hi, I am on a business trip in Maine, and my card isn’t working,” I say as quietly as I can, knowing sexy Banana Man is five feet from me. “Hello?”
Crickets. That’s what I hear on the other end. Fucking crickets just before the line goes completely dead and the call ends.
I attempt to call back, but I can’t even get it to ring because the service in this store is so shitty.
“Hey,” I say to the worker now that he’s stepped away. “I need to call my bank to get my card fixed. I’ll be right back inside to pay for this. Can I leave it here?”
He looks around. “Well, it’s kind of in the way for the other customers.”
I swing my gaze around, my lips forming a flat line. “The other three? Yeah … I think they’ll be okay, seeing as there are six registers here”—I glance at his name tag—“Rob.”
I don’t wait for him to reply before I bolt toward the doors, hoping that I’ll have more service outside. The cold air hits me in the face, and it’s not long before my teeth are chattering as I attempt to call the bank back. But after about eight tries, I realize the service is no better by the door, and I head inside to see if I can use the landline.
When the automatic doors open, my heart skips a beat when I see Banana Man strutting toward me. He gives me a tiny grin, exposing a dimple, and I think my thighs might actually clench.
He extends his arm, holding a bag out to me. “Here’s your stuff. Hope it’s okay that I put it all in one bag.” He stops. “Well, I put your Toaster Strudels in a separate one, but then stuck them in that bag to make it easier to carry for ya.”
At first, I’m confused. Then, I’m charmed. Suddenly … I’m freaking annoyed. How dare he just step in and try to be my superhero!
“Um … well, why would you do that? I was going to call my bank from the landline in here,” I say flatly. Embarrassed as hell that this random, very attractive stranger just bought my crap.
“I did it because the service inside here and until you’re on the edge of the parking lot sucks, and since you’re from out of town, I figured you didn’t know that.” He moves the bag closer to me. “You gonna take this or what?”
My eyes dart to the bag, and slowly, I take it from him. “Um … thanks? I guess?” I wish I could seem more thankful, but myentire life, I’ve been independent, and little gestures like this one make me feel like that independence is being stripped from me.
“No problem,” he utters, giving me the slightest head nod. “Happy holidays.”
When he turns around, heading outside, I wait an extra minute before walking to my rental car. Because right now…I do not want any more run ins with the banana man tonight.
The boys send the last crate of lobsters up to the wharf to be weighed before turning toward me. They know I’ll be here a while, but I can see it on their faces that they are more than ready to go home. It’s spitting snow. It’s cold. We’ve been out here since three this morning, and now it’s five at night and dark outside again. The whole day has come and gone, and I can’t blame them for being over it.
“You, uh … fixing the valves tonight, Cap? Or …” Jake says, peeling his oil pants off and throwing them on the hanger.
“Yeah, I’ve got to look it over to see if it’s an easy fix or if it’s going to drive me nuts,” I mutter, looking at both of my guys. “Go on, whiny asses; get out of here. You both look like shit.”
I don’t have to tell them twice; they both take off like their asses are on fire before I get the chance to change my mind. Not like I would because, right now, I need some quiet.
The boat started this weird vibration early in the day, and I was scared as hell that something was going to be seriously wrong with the engine. Somehow, we limped through. But when an engine like the one on my boat has a problem, it can easily cost tens of thousands of dollars to get it straightened out—not to mention, I have to sail it a solid two hours to the closest diesel mechanic.
