Page 26 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

She pulls back and studies me, then plucks the bottle from my hand and reads the label. “Mmm, cilantro and roasted onion. You should try that with some ricotta cheese.”

My eyebrows lift at the sudden shift in topic—and also at the suggestion. “Good idea.” I snag the bottle again and hold it over her head, where she’ll never be able to reach it. “But tell me what you were going to say, Squirt.”

She hesitates. “It’s just that you mentioned Lucy. And the fight you had.”

Great. My favorite topic. “Go on.”

“Well, if you and I can move past it, then maybe the two of you can too? I hate you being at odds. You’re two of my favorite people, and we all live together, at least for the summer. It would be nice if you could stop avoiding each other. If we could hang out like we used to.”

Ugh. I hate it when she looks at me with those big brown eyes of hers, so like Mom’s. When she pouts like she used to when she was three and I was five, and I’d give her the rest of my ice cream cone because she wanted it and I was the sucker who couldn’t say no.

Back then, I sacrificed for her—and yeah, it was only ice cream, but ice cream is big in the land of five-year-olds. So maybe sacrificing is just what a good brother does. And to be honest, though Lucy’s antics have gotten me riled up the last few weeks, I actually kind of hate that she dislikes me this much. Maybe being on Lucy’s bad side isn’t the best way to spend my time here in Hallmark Beach.

Of course, I’m not talking about rekindling any of those troublesome feelings I had for her in high school. Maybe not even friendship. Just…I don’t know. A truce, maybe.

For Marilee’s sake.

“Okay, baby sister. You can stop making puppy dog eyes at me. Now, give me that.” I take the bottle of bacon olive oil from her quick as a flash and walk it and the cilantro one to the front, where Ned has apparently been watching our back and forth with his lazy eyes.

After I’ve paid for them both and plied Ned with coupons he promises to hand out, I turn back to Marilee, who is grinning at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She slips her hand through the crook of my arm and tilts her head. “Do you think it’s too early in the day for ice cream?”

I laugh and we head out the door. The sun is beaming at us almost as brightly as my sister’s smile. Things are good here in Hallmark Beach.

Now I just have to figure out how to apologize to Lucy Reynolds. Or, at the very least, make her hate me a little less.

ten

LUCY

I’m not sure I’m cut out for management.

Not the people aspect—that’s fine. Mama always said I could talk the ear off an elephant. Apparently that’s some sort of special talent. And since I don’t have many of those, I’ll hold tight to what I can.

It’s why waitressing came naturally to me when I was a teenager and why I’ve stuck with it ever since. I’m not a big reader. I can’t really cook. And clearly numbers aren’t my thing.

This has never been more obvious than right now as I stare at my laptop. I blink and stretch my neck, sinking back into the couch cushions in our living room, though only for a moment. It’s nearly midnight on Saturday, my brain hurts, and my body is protesting still being awake. Marilee’s been tucked in for a long while, and Blake is who knows where. Haven’t really seen him since the meeting two days ago when he showed up to brownnose the town and interfere with my festival committee.

But as tired as I am, I can’t let sleep claim me yet. I need to talk with Winona, and it’s finally morning where she is over in Europe. Hopefully she’s as much of a morning person on this trip as she is in Hallmark Beach.

Because I’ve been working on a plan.

A plan inspired by Blake.

Well, not the man himself, but his idea. He spent a good chunk of time after the meeting on Thursday handing out coupons—something I never even thought to do. Winona has never done coupons, so I didn’t think to do them either. But it seems fairly Business 101, right? Sometimes you have to give away free stuff to get new customers, or to give previous customers the push they need to return.

It certainly seems to be working for Blake. The Robin was busy enough today—thank you, weekend summer tourism season!—but the food truck was busier. What if he’s figured out a way to come out on top? What if his schmoozing and business acumen are going to mean success for him?

And failure for me?

Despite what I said to his customers, I don’t even know how long he’ll be here. I haven’t bothered yet to ask (because that would mean having a civil conversation). But even a few months of low sales could hurt the Robin.

I might be no match for Mr. MBA, but I’ve gotta try. For Winona’s sake.

And speaking of Winona, I don’t want to implement any new business strategies without her approval. Which means it’s time to finally make that call. Sighing, I stand and set my open laptop on the kitchen counter. Then I take my phone and step outside on the back porch so I don’t wake Marilee, leaving the door cracked behind me.

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