That thought catches me off guard, and sets my brain buzzing as my gaze goes to Rider, as he bends to let a girl kiss his cheek during a selfie. My heart stalls, and worry for my friend clutches my heart. “Do you…” I catch myself before I finish. This is not my business.
“Do I ever get jealous, worried?” she asks.
“Sorry, I should never have gone there. It’s not my business.” Plus, I don’t want to plant ideas in her head.
“I love Rider. He loves me. We also trust each other.” Rider’s head lifts, a little check-in on his wife. He gives her a wink, a secret message between them and she smiles at him.
“That’s really sweet.”
“Yeah,” she says dreamily. She takes a deep breath. “I’m a lucky girl.”
“He’s a lucky guy too.”
“Thank you. You’re sweet, and honestly, Charlie, what they’re doing there, that isn’t who they are. Not deep inside. They’re putting on a show for fans, giving them what they want. Outside of that, they’re real men with values and integrity. It’s all about looking deeper and separating the player from the man.”
As her words bounce around inside my brain, my gaze goes to Wes as he plays it up for the selfies. “Does Wes…I mean, um, is he, has he ever been serious with anyone?”
“Nope.” She bumps me with her hip. “And despite what you think, he’s a real catch.”
I laugh. “I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with a guy like him.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that he’s a local celebrity, and the papers watch him carefully. Lots of pictures of him with girls all over him.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” She points to the guys. “Or half of what you see.”
I nod. What was it Breton said about me the other day: I played for the other team? I guess I’m judged by what I wear and what I do all the time. No one has ever really taken the time to get to know the girl beneath the coveralls, figure out who I really am, or what I really want. Is it the same for Wes?
When our pastry order is up, both Wes and Rider excuse themselves and the girls all walk away, giggling and laughing. Wes walks up to me and hands over the beaver tail, acting like he hadn’t just been accosted by a group of girls. I thank him and take a bite of the warm pastry.
I moan, and briefly close my eyes as the flavor explodes on my tongue. “Ohmigod, this is so good.” I open my eyes and find Wes staring at me, his jaw clenched tight, those caramel eyes a shade darker. “What?” I ask and brush the cinnamon sugar from my face. His chest rises and falls as he swallows, hard.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Jules says with a laugh, and that’s when I realize what’s going on. I might as well have been making love to the damn pastry. A little embarrassed, I turn from Wes, hoping he can’t see the heat traveling into my cheeks, and I probably shouldn’t examine the way he was watching me, with heat…lust…want.
Although I could be mistaken. I’m not like any of the girls he’s been with. Breton is a fine example. Head cheerleader, gorgeous, most popular girl back in high school. Not my business, I guess. Still, I can’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss me in front of her, pretend we’re a couple. Can’t help but want him to kiss me again.
Ohmigod, girl, get over yourself.
“Charlie,” Jules yells. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
I grin, and turn to her, working to pull myself together. “Told you.”
“I’m going to move to Canada and eat beaver tails all day,” she says, and we laugh.
I shade the late day sun from my eyes and glance down the bustling boardwalk. “Come on, let’s walk.”
For the next hour, we stroll the gorgeous waterfront and stop to admire the boats in the water, as well as the sailboats catching the harbor breeze. The sweet smells of cotton candy and sugar cones fill the air as tourists on bicycles and scooters zip by us.
“Look,” I say and point to the harbor hopper, an amphibious tour vehicle that goes from the water to the land.
“I want to do that.” Jules says.
“Next time,” Wes says. “We should be heading back. We all have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Right,” I agree doing a mental checklist of all the things I need to do before I take this group out on a weekend tour. It’s odd that I’m a little excited to be spending more time with them. This side hustle was just to put the boat to use when we were between lobster seasons, and summer business for my sisters for when I finally move away and put my degree to use.
We make our way back to the car and I’m tired yet content as I slide in next to Wes. We chat quietly on the drive home, and since Wes’ house is before mine, he drops off his friends.