Page 20 of The Love Shack

Pink lips curled in a smile that could sway the most cynical of men. “I’m a small-town girl at heart.”

Something in her tone, in the way her eyes shifted away from his, told him there was more at play. This time, the silence got to him. “Okay, I’ll bite. What wise insights have you learned?”

“None,” she said, and now her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lawson and I were just joking.”

Not buying it, Oliver said, “You started this,” by way of challenge.

“I didn’t start anything.”

Oliver snorted.

The rude sound caused her mouth to twitch. “Okay, so maybe I did, just a little.”

Glad that she was back to teasing, he tipped his drink at her and said, “So let’s hear it.”

She ate another fry first. “Much as Betty would deny it, a lot of hookups happen on the beach. That means I get plenty of bikini-clad walk-ins wanting their hair quickly styled so they can get back to the beach for an evening stroll.”

Dubious, he sipped his drink. She madeevening strollsound like a euphemism. “So despite being in and out of the lake, the wind and sun—”

“That stuff can be brutal to hair, and that’s all fine when a group is enjoying the water during the day. But for evenings...” She shrugged. “Seems everyone has given up the joy of a neat ponytail, braid or messy bun, which are all acceptable and casual styles.”

His gaze moved over her perfect hair. “Somehow I can’t picture you with messy hair.”

“It happens, but a really good cut makes it easier to repair.”

It was off their original topic, but he asked, “Do you cut your own hair?”

“That’s almost impossible to do. I have a friend who used to do it, but now that I’m here...” Her shoulders lifted. “I’ll need to see if one of the other stylists at the salon can do it the way I like.”

By the second, his curiosity about her, about her life before moving here, expanded. “Your friend is too far away to visit?”

“Yup.” She didn’t explain. “So anyway, when these women come in, often in their bathing suits, they talk a lot. Who’s hot, who’s available, who to avoid—that kind of thing.” She leaned in to confide, “I didn’t tell him, but Lawson is considered prime material.” Her gaze slanted to the bar, and she added, “Now that I’ve met him, I’m guessing Wheeler is, too. See, I’ve heard mention of the guy working at the restaurant, but wasn’t sure who they meant.”

He had less than zero interest in “hot guys.”

As if she’d read his thoughts, she said, “Know what you should do? Get Lawson to make you up some promotional T-shirts, and get the finest guys to wear them. Guaranteed a lot of women would notice.”

Genius advertising. But what really struck him was the way she said it, as ifshewouldn’t be all that interested in either Lawson or Wheeler, and for some damned bizarre reason, he was glad.

Resting a forearm on the bar, he asked, “How old are you, Lark Penny?”

Her brows lifted. “Twenty-four, why?”

A decade younger than him, but not reallytooyoung. Ignoring her question, he asked, “What size do you wear?”

Her brows went even higher, followed by a light laugh. “I think I need to know why you’re asking before I answer.”

Finding his first real grin in a week, Oliver said, “So I can make sure your promotional T-shirt fits. Why else?”

Lawson could barely see Berkley by the time he got out of the restaurant. Wearing a wide-brimmed white hat, and with Hero on a leash, she bypassed the beach and headed to the rockier shore of the lake, where vegetation grew in thick grasses, skinny trees and weeds.

Maybe dogs weren’t allowed on the sandy beach—or maybe she just wanted to walk alone. He should respect that.

But what if the opposite was true? What if she was lonely?

What if the past still plagued her...?

He didn’t like the idea of kind, bighearted Berkley—a woman who loved and protected animals—lying awake at night with foul memories hounding her sleep.

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