Page 14 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“Lucy…”

“Sorry,” I yell with a wave. Then I follow Tiny out the door, and I run with fire in my veins.

Because Blake the Flake may have weaseled his way into my house—my private sanctuary—for an indefinite amount of time. There’s nothing I can do about that. But if he thinks he can also mess with my workspace? Especially when I’m in charge there?

He’s got another thing coming.

five

BLAKE

After living in big cities for more than a decade, I almost forgot how anything out of the ordinary attracts a crowd in a small town.

“Just a little bit farther,” Thomas calls as he waves me back, his arms flailing wildly about. “Alberta, Collette, come on, ladies. Please stay out of the way and let the man park his vehicle.”

The two older women, who are standing extremely close to my food truck, sneer at him but do step back. A tad. Enough so that I won’t hit them, anyway. They aren’t there to help. Just observe. Of course, Alberta is the head of the town council, so she’s got a vested interest in helping me settle in.

Collette, on the other hand—and the other random groups of people standing around, watching me at nine-something in the morning—is just there because there’s nothing better to do. And because she’s one of the local gossips and likes to have her nose in everyone’s business. But I can’t let their watching eyes upset me. They’re hopefully going to be paying customers in the near future, and I can’t afford to make them mad with what Dale calls my resting-grump-face.

So I offer a little wave of thanks to them for moving and use the truck’s side mirror as a guide. I inch back so I don’t hit anything. There’s not a ton of space between The Green Robin and Rainbow Ice, but it’s the only place on Main Street where the town council could accommodate my truck. Thankfully, it’s actually the perfect spot, located right in the middle of the downtown hustle and bustle. The beach is just on the other side of the buildings, and across the street are more shops and eateries. The best part, though? Rainbow Ice already has tables, chairs, and umbrellas just outside, and the owner, Chad, has agreed to let my customers sit there if I pay him a monthly fee for the service. After all, our offerings don’t conflict at all. If people want ice cream after they’ve eaten their grilled cheese lunch, they can just hop right inside the building and grab some. It’s a win-win for all of us.

That’s one thing I have always liked about my hometown—there’s room for everyone here.

I finish parking, cut the ignition, and hop out of the truck, making my way toward Thomas with an outstretched hand. The guy’s a few years my junior and doesn’t look much like he belongs in a beach town with his fair skin, freckles, and poofed-up red hair, but he’s nice enough from what I can tell. His coffee shop, The White Mocha, is just across the way. We met there this morning to go over paperwork, and he gave me a cup of Joe, on the house. It was quite tasty, and I can safely say I’ll be back frequently.

He shakes my hand. “Alrighty, looks like you’re in business. When do you plan to start firing up the grill?” He tosses some finger guns my way.

Dude’s trying so hard to be casual, but it’s difficult to take him seriously in his bright green Hawaiian shirt. Of course, next to him, I look extremely overdressed with my slacks and button-up shirt. I know it’s probably too much, especially when I’m working the grill, but Dad always said to dress for the job I want. “Respect is earned, not given,” he’d say.

So even though I’d personally be more comfortable in shorts and a T-shirt, I am always sure to present myself as a businessman first, a cook second.

“As soon as I can,” I say. “I need to buy some more supplies, finalize a few things, but if all goes according to plan, The Urban Melt will be open sometime next week.”

“Over my dead body.”

Whipping around, I find the last person I expect to see.

Lucy Reynolds is—thankfully—more fully clothed today than last night, wearing jeans that hug her curves, a blue shirt that says “Y’all Ain’t Right,” and a flannel long-sleeved shirt tied around her waist. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a bouncing ponytail just the way I remember it from when we were teens, back when I used to tug it playfully just to see her smile.

But unlike when we were younger (when she looked at me with something akin to hero worship), right now she’s shooting laser beams with her eyes. And the goal appears to be slicing me in half. Or, at the very least, cutting me down to size.

I sigh and open my mouth to ask what in the world her problem is now, but Thomas steps around me. “Morning, Luce.”

Luce? Is everyone that casual with her, or just him? Wait. Are they…together?

And why does the thought of that twist my stomach?

Lucy pulls her attention from me, and I watch in amazement as her lips press upward, her eyes un-narrow, and genuine affection fills her gaze. “Hi, Thomas. How are you?”

Wow. She either likes this guy a lot…or just really hates me.

Not sure which I prefer.

Thomas thumps me on the back like we’re bros. “Just helping Blake here get his truck settled into its new home.”

“What do you mean, its new home? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you it is.” Thomas hooks a thumb toward Alberta. “The town council approved it and everything.”

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