“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, smiling graciously and then starting toward the door. “It was nice… meeting you.” She allowed her gaze to flicker up to his face again, but she quickly turned back to the door. She was hot and sweaty. The very last thing she wanted was to sit too close to Luke Sullivan and have a drink. She needed lunch and a shower.
“Where were you headed?” He reached around her and grabbed the handle, opening the door for her. They walked out into the noise of tourists and the blinding sunshine.
“I’m just grabbing some lunch to take back with me. I’m renovating a bed and breakfast on Sand Dune Road.”
He stared ahead as he paced beside her on the sidewalk.
“The Beachcomber Bed and Breakfast,” she clarified, but she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t recognize it. It had been closed to the public for years—Gladys had told them—but she continued, her nerves getting the better of her. “Alice McFarlin’s place.”
Finally, a spark of recognition. “Oh yeah, I remember her. She was pretty involved in the town when I was growing up. I saw her everywhere…” he trailed off, clearly wondering about something but he snapped out of it. “Anyway, how about that drink?”
“I’ve been working outside all morning. I’m tired and dirty,” she said, not wanting to be rude and just dismiss his kind offer.
“You have to get lunch anyway, yes? And you’re not going to work while you sit and eat it, right?” Those blue eyes were on her, the edges crinkling with his smile. “I just dragged you down a sidewalk and threw you into a shop. Please let me buy you lunch. It’s the very least I could do.”
His expression was completely gorgeous, but it was also kind.
“I’d like to…” she said calmly. Inside she was a nervous wreck.
Before she could finish, he’d put his hand on her back to guide her across the street. “I’ll introduce you to the very best burger on the beach.”
He came to a stop at a shiny red truck with a surfboard in the back and opened her door before jogging around to his side.
“This is a nice truck,” she said, sliding onto the leather seat and latching her seatbelt.
“It isn’t mine.” Luke started the engine. “I borrowed it to pick up the surfboard.” He nodded in the direction of the truck’s bed.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled onto the road.
He put his blinker on and rounded the curve, making a sharp left. “Somewhere no one will find us.”
She felt her eyes bulging but she was unable to stop herself. She didn’t even know this guy—so what if she’d seen a few ads with him around town? She knew nothing about him. He was driving a vehicle that wasn’t his, she hadn’t told a soul where she was… She set her hand on her thigh, inching toward the cell phone in her pocket in case she needed it. He could be a closet murderer or something. He could be stealing her away only to tie her up against a palm tree and leave her for the… what kind of wild animals roam the beaches in North Carolina? She discreetly twisted around to view his back seat, looking for rope when he caught her eye, the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement.
“You okay?” he asked, before looking back at the road. “This burger place is amazing. It’s small and out of the way, so no reporters.” His voice hung on that last word as if he’d caught on to her thinking, and her cheeks burned. A tiny huff of laughter escaped from his lips, and he glanced back over at her again.
The rest of the ride was quiet as she flip-flopped between sheer embarrassment that he might have been able to decipher her thoughts and utter panic that she was going on a lunch date with Luke Sullivan with paint down her leg. He pulled the truck to a stop in front of a tiny shack of a building and got out. Callie sneaked a quick look at herself in the side-view mirror but this only made her feel more self-conscious.
“Do you mind if I just pop into the ladies’ room for a second?” she asked as he opened the door for her.
She did a little jog toward the bathrooms, leaving Luke with the hostess, and commenced digging in her handbag for her powder and lip-gloss. She hit the tap, the water splashing in the basin, and washed her hands before pulling her ponytail loose and running her fingers through her hair. She looked at herself. Oh well. He’d already seen her like this; she didn’t need to worry about it. A toilet flushed and a woman stepped up behind her, waiting her turn at the sink. After a friendly nod, Callie moved aside and quickly texted Olivia that she’d be later than expected, but after waiting a little while and not getting any response, she headed out to the dining area.
The entire back of the building was open to the beach, with a long bar facing the ocean, a thatched roof, and dangling twinkle lights that must come on when the sun goes down. Luke waved from his seat on the other side, daylight on his face, giving him a glow. The hostess opened the door, allowing Callie access to the barstools that ran along the back of the building on wooden decking built over the beach. It was weathered and gritty from the surrounding sand. Luke reached over and pulled one of the seats out from under the bar for her.
“What are we having to drink today?” the bartender asked. He was wearing an old T-shirt with a faded logo, his slightly longer than average hair tucked behind his ears.
Luke waited for her to make her choice, so Callie grabbed a menu and scanned the long list of cocktails. “Um,” she said, buying time. It had been quite a while since she’d gotten a drink with someone. “A rum and Coke please,” she said, unable to focus on any one of the millions of drink options that were scrawled across the glossy page in electric blue script. This wasn’t that kind of date anyway, she thought. Best to keep it simple—and just the one drink.
“Coconut rum?” the bartender asked.
She nodded.
“And you, sir?”
“Just a beer, thanks.” He nodded toward some sort of import. Then to Callie, he said, “You mentioned a cottage—The Beachcomber? Are you opening soon?”
“My friend Olivia and I are opening it back up at the end of the summer,” she said, relieved at the question. This was a nice, easy topic. She loved talking about The Beachcomber.
Callie hated this part of meeting someone. She much preferred the point when both people felt comfortable enough to sit at a table and eat without needing to fill the silence. She’d always been bad at offering up tidbits of information about her life, preferring to keep all that private.
The bartender slid their drinks toward them. Luke retrieved a couple of loose dollars from his pocket and stuffed them into the tip jar.
“Thanks, man,” the bartender said. “Ready to order?”
Callie wasn’t ready. She hadn’t even looked at the menu yet except for her poor attempt to find a drink. “What do you normally get?” she asked Luke.
“A bacon cheeseburger.”
“I’ll have the same.”
He eyed her inquisitively. “They’re really big,” he warned, a smile twitching at his lips.