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He chuckled and shook his head. “You think I look moody?”
“Maybe brooding with your tattoos and dark eyes.”
“Boy, you do read a lot.”
“What can I say?” I smiled, feeling his gaze on me a few seconds longer than usual. Maybe Amelia was right about Rick. Maybe he actually had a thing for me. “I even write a little poetry.”
“You do?”
It felt freeing to admit that there was something I enjoyed. I could scream to strangers what I loved to do, but I clammed up the moment I thought about my family.
But I could tell Lucas, and for that, I was very grateful.
“I’d love to hear it sometime.”
“Yeah? Really?”
“Totally.” He tapped the counter. “Okay. I’ll go grab your order. I threw in a hashbrown patty.”
“You’re the best.” I grinned, hopping off the stool as he wandered toward the kitchen where my breakfast awaited.
I snatched the bag from Rick and smiled before spinning around and wandering out the door.
It might be kind of cool if I got the residency. I wouldn’t just be the Evans girl who works at Baubles and Curiosities. I’d be the poet who worked at Baubles and Curiosities. The thought made me chuckle as I waved goodbye.
The morning sunshine sprinkled its rays on my bare skin as I walked onto the sidewalk. This was one of the many things I loved about living on Marigold Island. I could park my car in one area of town and wander to the other without much trouble.
But there was no doubt our little island was growing and becoming more and more of a tourist destination, which was definitely good for our family business, and it would do wonders for Mae’s new coffee shop.
The sidewalks on both sides of the street were filled with boutiques, cafés, a salon, galleries, and a couple of breweries. The town had large planters cemented to every other door that overflowed this time of year with geraniums, phlox, and petunias. Dark green benches scattered the sidewalks to givepeople a place to rest and regroup before moving on to more shopping. Our little island was definitely planning for the future.
The sweet smell of spring mingled with the salty air of the ocean, and I knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
A familiar whistle from behind made me stop in my tracks.
“Bryce, one day you’re going to whistle at the wrong girl and get your lights punched out.” I spun around to see Bryce and his toothless Doberman, Herman, walking down the sidewalk toward us. My sisters and I had gone to school with him starting in grade school, and to say we knew some unsavory secrets about him was putting it mildly. He was like an extra brother who had a dirty old grandpa’s mind.
Bryce laughed and shook his head. “Sorry. I thought that paper bag was Dottie.”
“Oh, right. You always have to whistle at poor Dottie on Herman’s behalf.” I exaggerated a wink and laughed.
“Those are the rules. I didn’t make them, but Herman has a serious crush on that pug.”
“Story of her life.” I snickered, holding up my bag. “But nope. It’s not Dottie. Just my breakfast.”
“Ah, biscuit sandwich from Milo’s?”
I nodded.
“You know, he’s got a thing for you.” Bryce said, glancing behind him toward the bar.
“Don’t go spreading island rumors,” I scolded him.
“Just sayin’ what I know.” He beamed, walking side by side with me. “He looks forward to your reading at his bar every Friday night.”
I rolled my eyes as we made it to the corner.
“Whatever you say, pot-stirrer.”
