Page 19 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

BLAKE

Lucy said she was going to take back my customers, and apparently, she’s a woman of her word.

A week after our little chat, during which she invaded the peaceful sanctuary of my food truck, I pound out my frustration on the Hallmark Beach boardwalk. The sun’s barely peeking over the horizon, and the temp is hanging out in the low sixties, but sweat clings to my skin as I run.

Normally, I like to run to a business podcast or even some music, but today it’s just me and the sound of the surf. I like the constancy of it, the way it always moves in and out, the ebb and flow that’s so much like life. Each individual moment or day may feel chaotic and unpredictable, but when you look at it as a whole, there’s balance.

That’s what I remind myself of as I pass a few cyclists going the opposite direction, away from downtown, where I’ll finish up my four-mile run. My eyes can’t help but take in the buildings, all still and mostly dark. In another hour or so, they’ll be bustling with people—though I’m not sure if the same can be said for The Urban Melt.

Because while the first few days of my grand opening were impressive and exactly as I’d hoped, as soon as Lucy left my truck last week, she started chatting up the people in line. Asking about their babies, their jobs, saying how much she missed seeing them at The Green Robin since she took over as manager.

She then joked—loudly, I’m sure so I could hear her—about how she could see the appeal of trying food from someone who will only be here temporarily. One woman looked over at my window, her face full of disdain, and asked, “Is that really true? I thought he was back for good.”

And Lucy just shrugged her innocent little shoulders and said, “You know how quickly he left the last time.”

It was a stab in the gut when she glanced at me, her eyes searing me before looking away like I wasn’t worth her time. She didn’t exactly guilt those customers into leaving my line, but several of them followed her to the Robin anyway. And though the tourists over Memorial Day weekend helped boost sales, ever since, I’ve struggled to get more than a handful of customers an hour, which has not exactly allowed the creative juices to flow. I’m at a stalemate on recipe creation, and it’s all because of Lucy.

Essentially, she took her Hallmark Beach charm—charm I should have since this is my hometown—and used it against me.

I increase my speed, my lungs tight. My vision starts to blur a bit, so I slow to a walk, holding my hands behind my head. Why does she hate me so much? Yeah, maybe I was a jerk when I nearly kissed her on her seventeenth birthday and left the next day for college—but she knew I was leaving. Maybe I should have said goodbye, but after talking with my dad, I knew I couldn’t promise her anything. That I shouldn’t have spent the year flirting with her and getting to know her better. She was just so darn likable…

And when I came back the next few summers, she smiled, laughed, and acted like she was fine. I mean, sure, we didn’t interact as much as we had previously. I had to keep my distance, or I knew she’d pull me back in. But she didn’t seem mad, and she never was the type to hold grudges. She was happy-go-lucky Lucy Reynolds without a care in the world.

At least, that’s what I thought until I showed up here six years ago, and she begged me not to leave again for my sister’s sake. And when I said I had to go, she gave me a look—not exactly angry, but disappointed, like I’d failed to be the man she thought I should be. I know she was just being a good friend to Marilee by arguing with me to stay, but my parents had just died. I was barely holding it together. The idea of staying? Of facing the loss day in and day out?

It felt impossible.

Clearly, the years of relative silence on my part since then have taken a higher toll than I thought. Because when I came back to cater that wedding in April, Lucy hated me.

Maybe she should.

“Hey, Blake! Wait up.”

I turn to find Marilee’s friend Jordan coming up behind me in joggers and a lightweight hoodie.

He pulls out an earbud. “Heard you were back in town.” He reaches out a hand.

I shake it. “Yeah, for a few months.”

“That’s what Lee-Lee said.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Lee-Lee?”

Jordan grins and shrugs. “It’s what Ryder—my son—calls her.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard you had a kid. She seems pretty taken with him.” Mare caught me up life in Hallmark Beach—and all the gossip—during dinner together earlier this week. On the nights I haven’t worked late, trying my hardest (and failing) to perfect new recipes, we’ve spent a few evenings together, which has been nice.

Of course, Lucy hasn’t shown her face at all, probably waiting until she thinks I’m in bed to come home. The only way I know she’s been there at all is the smell of her in the bathroom we share. Something citrusy and vanilla. Let’s just say I’m in and outta there as quickly as I can be.

Why torture myself with things I can’t have—and shouldn’t want?

Jordan runs a hand through his hair, which doesn’t seem sweaty at all, unlike mine. “Ryder’s a great kid. I’m really lucky.”

He seems like one of those good-natured guys who smiles a lot, and who’s genuine about it. I’m glad Marilee has someone like him in her corner, though I’ve always wondered if there was something more between them. At least on his end. Maybe I don’t have a right to play the part of the protective older brother since I’ve been gone for so long, and since I failed so epically to protect her from Donny.

Then again, I’m here now. Maybe there’s a chance I can earn that right someday, even after I head back to Los Angeles in August.

“So remind me what you do for work around here.” Marilee actually told me, but hey, I’ve gotta start the conversation somewhere, right? It would be way too obvious to just outright ask him what his intentions are with my sister.

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