“You hear that, li’l Laire? The best.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, barely daring to breathe as she searched Erik’s eyes, which were still fixed on Uncle Fox.
“You need some fresh catch, son?”
“I thought I’d pick some up. I was huggin’ the shore on my way back to Buxton from Ocracoke and saw your sign on the dock.”
She had no idea why he was here, and she was terrified of being found out, but seeing his handsome face and windblown hair still made her sigh with pleasure. Swallowing, she took an order form from under the cash register and tried to smile at him like she wasn’t about to have a heart attack.
“Can I take your order, um, sir?”
“What do you recommend?” he asked, his voice deep and warm, and God, but her whole body was reacting to seeing him so unexpectedly—her nipples tightening, her mouth watering. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to grab him by his navy blue Ralph Lauren collared shirt and drag his lips across the counter to hers.
“Well,” said her uncle, assuming he was speaking to him, “got some blues came in yesterday . . . sea trout—”
“Sea trout’s a spring catch,” said Erik, flicking a teasing glance to Laire. “How about mackerel? That should be more in season now, right? Young, but fresh?”
“I’ll be damned.” Uncle Fox nodded, obviously impressed. “A dingbatter what knows his fish.”
“Come again?”
Laire couldn’t contain a small grin and stared down at the counter, hoping to God her uncle wouldn’t catch her smiling at his expense.
“Just a li’l island speak,” said her uncle. “Sure. I’ve got some mackerel.”
“Actually,” said Erik, his eyes flitting to Laire’s for a moment. “I need somethin’ that’ll travel well.”
“How d’ya mean?” asked her uncle.
Erik looked at her again, his smile disappearing, before raising his glance over her shoulder to her uncle. “I’m headed up to Raleigh for a few days. Leavin’ today. Family business. I’d like to bring somethin’ for my mother. Somethin’ that’ll keep on the car ride.”
Her lips parted as her uncle started talking about blues keeping nice on ice. Now she understood. He was here to tell her that he wouldn’t be around tonight or tomorrow night. He had no other way to tell her that he wouldn’t be sitting at his regular seat at the bar, to explain his absence, and so he’d risked coming here to tell her in the only way he could.
She raised her head, and her eyes slammed into his for confirmation. He nodded slowly at her while speaking to her uncle. “Yes, sir. I’d appreciate it if you could pack some up for me on ice.”
“Laire,” said her uncle, “I’ll go get ’em and pack ’em in back. You charge him for three dozen, hear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, still staring at Erik.
As soon as her uncle was out of earshot, she whispered, “You came to tell me? That you were leavin’ for a few days?”
He nodded. “I hoped you were workin’ this mornin’. I couldn’t think of another way to get word to you. I’ll be in Raleigh until Sunday. I didn’t want you to think I was standin’ you up or that my feelin’s had changed or . . .”
She smiled at him, then looked down at the counter, blinking back tears as she wrote up his order.
“Erik,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
She chanced a glance at him. “I’m falling in love with you too.”
They held each other’s eyes for an intense moment. Though Erik had said these words to her twice, it was the first time Laire returned them, and she could see the sudden surge of tenderness in his eyes as he gazed back at her. He leaned toward her, and it took every ounce of her strength not to leap across the goddamned counter that separated them.
Before one of them did something stupid, she drew back and cleared her throat. “That’ll be eighteen fifty, Mr. Rexford.”
He reached into his back pocket, opened his wallet, and slid a credit card across the counter to her.
“Want that I tape up the cooler?” yelled her uncle from the back room.
“Sure! Thanks!” called Erik.
She took the card, still warm from his body, and ran it through the machine. When she returned it to him, his index finger brushed hers, and she shivered with longing.
“I’m workin’ Sunday night.”
“I’ll see you then,” he whispered.
“I’ll miss you,” she mouthed as she handed him a pen.
He nodded at her and signed the receipt, sliding both back across the counter.
“Here we go!” said her uncle, hefting a cooler onto the counter. “Now you got crabs!”
Laire couldn’t help the way her mind returned seamlessly to their first meeting, nor the way her shoulders suddenly started shaking with glee.
“Enj-joy them,” she managed to choke out, grateful to her uncle for inadvertently adding a bit of levity to the moment.
“I will,” he said, taking the cooler and tucking it under his arm. “Thank you, sir.”
“Our pleasure, Mr. Rexford.”