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He laughs. “Too me?”
“You know. Quiet, calm. Sober.”
“Not all fraternity guys are the opposite of that. There were a lot of them, but a lot of us were in it for connections and I thought it would be a good idea to get out of my shell.”
“Good point.”
“What about you? Did you go to college?”
I shake my head. “I hated school. I did take some business courses and I thought it was hell, but took what I needed to open the boutique.”
“Brett says the boutique is your dream?”
“You talk to my brother about me?”
The tips of his ears turn pink again. “I was curious.”
We’ve finished eating, but I don’t want him to leave yet. “Want to take a walk?”
“Sure.” He starts to pick up our mess but I shoo him away.
“You cooked, I’ll pick this up.”
It only takes me a minute and then I meet him outside the boutique. Once I lock up, we start walking down the boardwalk. The breeze is warm and salty and the temp is cooling off just a little bit. It’s still humid, but I wouldn’t trade this weather for anything.
“So your dream of being a boutique boss?”
“Ever since I was little, I wanted to own my store. That dream almost died a violent death when I worked retail as a teenager, but I realized it would be different if I ran it. It’s not any less work, but at least I don’t have to answer to anyone.”
He nods like he understands this. “I get that. That’s why I wanted my own contracting business. I could pick the jobs I wanted.”
“You’ve done a great job with the boutique. You’ve taken what I’ve described to you, as vague as that sometimes is, and turned it into concrete reality.”
“You know what you want with it, that makes it easy.”
“Have you ever worked for people who don’t make it easy?”
“As you probably know everyone here, what do you think?” He smiles over at me. “There was one couple in particular who wanted a pool house built.”
“I know exactly who you’re talking about.” He’s right, it is a small beach town. “You have to tell me all the dirty details thought. Everything that went around was speculation.”
“It did go around. I told Brett.”
“And didn’t tell me? I’m hurt.”
He grabs my hand and stops me. His gaze is playful as he steps closer. “It was a hot summer day. I was wearing blue jeans, a red t-shirt, and work boots—“
“Why are you telling me what you wore?” I laugh.
“You own a boutique. Clearly it’s a detail you need.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
He turns and keeps walking, but doesn’t let go of my hand. My palm tingles where it touches his. It’s hard to concentrate on what he’s saying but I try. “This was my fifth time redoing the interior paint. The husband was supposed to be out of town but got back a few days early.”
“Oh no. Did she hit on you?”
“No, not me.” He laughs a little. “She was with the pool boy.”
