Page 23 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Chapter Six
Emerson
On Saturday, just before lunch, Greyson reappears. He blends in better with the crowd this time. Long boardshorts, expensive flip flops, and a worn, white Van Halen tee. A beat up, faded blue baseball cap emblazoned with a Cancun resort logo covers his thick hair. I almost don’t recognize him when he flops on the bench in front of the store. Setting down two tall lemonades, he grins and flashes a surfer’s hang ten signal when he catches me staring at him through Sea Tale’s picture windows.
Spinning around, I mumble an excuse about needing something from the storage room and leave Luann and Lloyd in the store alone. When I return ten minutes later, empty-handed, Luann hands me a tall paper cup with my name on it, accentuated with a smiley face, and a folded piece of paper with jagged edges.
It’s been torn from the notepad he carries around in his back pocket. It’s warm. Either from the sun or the warmth of his perfect backside.
“Emerson Jane, that nice young man left this lemonade just for you.” Luann’s blue eyes twinkle. “Said his name was Greyson and that you met yesterday.”
I groan inwardly with despair. Luann and Lloyd would love nothing more than to see me paired up with some “nice young man.” Since Grandpop’s death, it’s become their most fervent wish to see I am taken care of in life. Married off, having babies. A happy wife, with a happy life and an adoring husband.
Scanning the boardwalk stretching out in front of the shop, I see no sign of Greyson. He’s not sitting on the bench, and the piece of paper screams at me to read it. God, it’s practically burning a hole in my palm. What does it say? I can only guess. My mouth is dry, thinking of the possibilities.
Hey,I do remember you. Hollywood, March. About sixteen months ago. You wore black, thigh high boots while Velvet Revolver played in the background and I fucked you senseless.
No. Greyson Finch hopefully wouldn’t write that. He would just whisper in my ear he was going to do the same again and I’d probably let him. Absentminded, I take a sip of the lemonade before setting it aside.
No, you won’t let him. You aren’t that weak, lost girl anymore, Emerson. You’re stronger than that, and you won’t fall into Greyson’s bed again just because he’s handsome as sin. And smells amazing. He’s still an asshole. The same one who threw you out once he was done with you. Don’t forget it. Don’t forget how awful it felt.
My hands shake as I unfold the paper.
She’s got summer in her smile
Frosty lemonade in her touch
Tart and sweet
Rainbow in her eyes
Got me falling to my knees
Looking to the sky
Praying for the sun
Cursing every raindrop
Watching her
Come undone
Luann watches me expectantly like I received a letter from Romeo and may swoon or something equally ridiculous.
Well, I do feel slightly lightheaded. My fingers tremble as I refold the note and cram it into my back pocket.
Luann shakes her head in confusion when I toss the lemonade into the garbage as if it’s been poisoned.
* * *
It’s beena week since Greyson showed up, turning my world upside down.
He comes every day, with a lemonade for himself and for me. He brings it inside, and sets it next to the register with a little smirk. Then, he plops on the bench in the shade outside my store for about an hour, watching the tourists wander by, writing in that little notebook of his, and listening to his Beats headphone with his foot tapping out songs only he can hear. Sometimes, people stop and talk to him. He’s not overly friendly, but he’s not an asshole either. On a few occasions, he signs autographs, but for the most part, people either don’t realize who he is, or they respect Sea Cove’s unwritten rule.
With the holiday week, it’s been so busy I haven’t been able to touch base with Devon or Noah about my new, unexpected visitor-slash-stalker. We’re meeting for dinner tonight. I know I’ll have to fill them on it the details.
The moment Devon sees me, she’s all over it.
