“Have a seat anywhere you like,” she calls, then looks up. “Oh, hi.” She gestures with the pitcher. “Gimme just a sec.”
I take a seat at the counter near the register. Maybe if I ignore her cute yellow uniform dress and don’t look at her freckles, I can get a coherent thought to leave my mouth. I’m looking at anything but Stevie when I spot the big chalkboard sign on the wall behind the counter.
It has a simple chart with two columns labeled “Bigfoot” and “Boyfriend” with names and dollar amounts scribbled hastily under each. There’s a glass jar half full of cash on the shelf beside it, and I realize what’s going on here. I’ve listened to the podcast. And judging by the number of people who have bet on “Boyfriend,” most of Cape Georgeana thinks Stevie is going to lose this little wager. Things are getting serious.
Forgive the pun, but this puts me in a hairy position. I don’t want her friends to succeed in finding a man for her, because ... Why? I don’t know. I’m not examining it too closely. I just know that I don’t like them setting her up on random dates. But I don’t want to encourage Stevie’s search for Bigfoot because I am the Bigfoot she’s after. It can’t end well. Besides that, the part where she’s going to take strangers into the woods makes my shoulders tense. I tap my thumb on my leg while I wait.
“What’s up, Adam?” Stevie appears on the other side of the counter, her cheeks flushed and her hair in a ponytail. “Can I get you something to eat?”
I can’t think of anything except how it felt to hug her and how my inner compass realigned to her. I shake my head. “No.”
She bites her bottom lip, a question in her eyes. “Did you need something?”
I need to use words. I can do this. “I saw that you’re going to start doing tours.”
Her smile brightens. “I am. Is that okay? I checked online, and I didn’t see anything in the Biddeford Land Trust policies that said I couldn’t—”
“That part is all good.” I shake my head. “It’s just—I’d like to join you.”
Her mouth drops open. “You would?” She taps the bottom of a stack of plastic menus against the counter, straightening them with jittery fingers. “Why?”
To keep you safe.
Because I don’t trust random strangers with you.
I don’t say either of these things. Instead, my caveman brain takes over. “Because I like you.”
Whoosh. All of the air leaves my lungs. I like Stevie.Of course I do.
The stack of menus Stevie was holding scatters on the floor, sliding in every direction. “Oh!” She drops behind the counter.
I jump to my feet, circling around to help her gather them. Crouching beside her, I add glossy menus to her stack. We’re taking way too long to do this.
“Have you scheduled any tours yet?” I ask, keeping my voice low. I appreciate this moment of semiprivacy behind the counter.
“Um.” She focuses on the menus, straightening the edges until they’re perfectly aligned. She doesn’t stand. “I have a group of guys coming from Portland later this week,” she murmurs.
Agroupof men? Oh, I don’t think so.
“Can I join you?” I just looked at her lips.
Tightening my jaw, I force myself to make eye contact. This is worse, though. Her big brown eyes blink at me, and I shift my gaze to her nose.
Freckles.
Nothing is safe.
“Uh-huh.” She nods, peering up at me and forcing me to meet her gaze.
“What?” I ask.
“You can come on my tour,” she says softly. “I’ll even give you a discount.”
The corner of my mouth hitches. “Oh, you will, huh?”
Her brown eyes blink a few times. Her answering smile is slow, and am I crazy or did her eyes just dart to my mouth?
A woman clears her throat above us.
