Page 18 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

Sarcasm drips from his tongue. It doesn’t suit him. He was always sweeter than that.

But people change.

“I’m not here for a sandwich.” I walk right up to him and poke him in the chest. His much too muscular chest. The guy was always fit—he played football at his dad’s insistence—but for goodness’ sake. A guy who works around food all day should not have granite pecs. Or such a flat stomach. Or arms that…

Grr. Focus, Lucy. “I’m here to tell you to stop stealing my customers.”

“Your customers?” Blake turns back to his grill, and my hand falls away. But I don’t move an inch. Backing down would be admitting defeat. “They’re in my line.”

“Only because your truck is right there in front of my customers’ faces!”

He butters a few slices of bread—quick as lightning—and tosses them onto the grill. “If they’re so easily swayed by the mere presence of my truck, then maybe they aren’t really loyal to you in the first place. Maybe they’re just settling for what’s here because they don’t know any better.”

How. Dare. He. “As if you would understand anything about loyalty.”

Okay, it’s kind of a low blow, I know. But I still stand by the sentiment.

Blake stiffens but doesn’t respond for a few moments, so we just stand there, my face nearly touching his shoulder. It’s irritating how good he manages to smell despite working with all this grease and dairy. If I worked in here, I’d be sweating through my shirt, my hair piled messy and high, my brow streaked with grime. But Blake somehow looks as put together as his shelves.

Finally, he lifts his spatula and points to the back door. “You’ve said your piece. Now it’s time to go, Sunshine.”

“Enough with the stupid nickname, Flake.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yours is appropriate and well earned.”

“And yours seems appropriate enough for an entitled brat who thinks she can waltz into my place of business and whine that she isn’t doing enough to hold onto her own customers.”

I rear back like he’s slapped me. My hands curl at my sides. He did not just say that. Me, entitled? I’m the one who had to move to an entirely new town when I was sixteen years old after living in an apartment that was barely habitable, always wondering if Mama’s job in the school cafeteria was going to be enough to cover food, rent, clothing, and our annual summer road trip ending in Hallmark Beach.

He’s the one who grew up in the perfect town with the perfect family and never wanted for anything in his perfect life. Until his parents died, of course. But I lost people too. On that ground, we’re even.

My lip curls, and I don’t even feel like myself. All of this anger is going to give me early wrinkles. “If anyone’s entitled, it’s you, thinking you can come back here after what you did.”

“It’s not like I murdered someone, Lucy.”

I find myself strangely disappointed that he called me by my real name. Sweet macaroni, I hate that he still has any sort of hold over my emotions. “No, but?—”

“And I’m tired of you acting like I committed a crime at all.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you did.” Marilee needed him, and he left. He’s guilty of being a terrible big brother, among other things. “But whatever. We’re never going to see eye to eye on it. Just like, apparently, we’re never going to see eye to eye on the fact that you’re a thief.”

He sighs, plating the sandwiches along with a pickle and some chips that look homemade, and slides them through the window, calling out “Jacobs!” before returning to the grill to toss on more sandwiches. “Yeah, I guess we won’t. But answer me this. How can I be stealing from you when we don’t even serve the same thing? Because that was the one condition the council put on my permit. If I ever try to serve the same thing as The Green Robin, I’ll have seven days to pack up and leave.” He flips another sandwich. “I won’t be infringing on whatever your little restaurant serves. And if your customers are as loyal as you say, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Wait a second. “What did you say?”

He pushes up his sleeves, distracting my eyes for just a moment, and lifts his eyebrows. “I said, I won’t be infringing?—”

“No, not that.”

He said if my customers are loyal… That’s it. “I’ve gotta go.” I head for the back door.

“Finally, a little peace.”

Stopping, I pivot and offer him a wicked grin. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m taking back my customers. And we’ll see who they’re really loyal to after all.”

seven

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