Page 6 of Starfish and Coffee
“Yeah, you can write it on my headstone.” Holly sounded unhappy with the prospect. “Here lies Holly; she worked a helluva fast register.”
“That’s not all you are.” He looked up at her sincerely. “You’re an amazing woman. I’ve always thought that, and Alex loves you. That’s—” He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze again and hating himself for being obvious. “That’s valuable, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Holly’s knowing gaze found him across the table once more. “I’ve always liked you, Matt. You’re pretty cool for a snowbird.”
“I’m not a snowbird,” he reminded her, deciding to ignore the randomness of her statement. “I live in Atlanta full-time.”
“Fine, you’re cool for a tourist. Would you like to come to my place tonight? The beer’s cold. We own a deck of cards. You still play poker?”
Matt eyed her skeptically. “I don’t think Alex wants me over at your place. That would be awkward—for all of us.”
“My mama has a saying.” Holly gave him an impish grin. “Ask me what it is.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not a man’s business what he wants. He’ll get what he needs,” she said with a wide, conspiratorial smile. “He may not admit it, but he wants you to come over. Your friendship’s important to him.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Matt said, feeling the cynical stab of pain that had been his constant companion since the night he and Alex broke up. “I know it isn’t.”
“How blind are you?” Holly rolled her eyes. “Take off, snowbirdie. Hanging around this place for five hours is ridiculous. We’ll be home by six. We’ll see you then.”
“Okay.” Matt looked back down at the table as a wealth of bittersweet emotions washed over him. He wanted to go to Alex’s place to at least connect with the friend he’d lost and finally get the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him. Yet, doing so had him feeling more vulnerable than he was comfortable being. He didn’t feel like the CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation. He felt awkward and out of his element showing up on the doorstep of a former lover, one who had made it very clear six years ago that he wanted nothing more to do with him. He should tell Holly to forget it and charter the first jet back to Atlanta, but all he said was, “Do I bring wine?”
“Beer’s better. Budweiser’s his favorite.”
“Right.” Matt nodded, his heart rate picking up a notch from the nostalgia that hit him without warning. “I remember that. I’ll bring the beer—”
“And cash, lots of it.” Holly stood up, her green eyes dancing with mischief. “Poker.”
“Right, poker.” He gave her a relieved smile. “Thanks, Holly.”
“Don’t thank me.” Holly’s voice was sad and sympathetic. “Just show up.”
“I don’t know where you live.”
“Yeah, you do—same shack on the beach. We’re creatures of habit.”
Matt looked around the restaurant once more, feeling almost claustrophobic. It was a completely different atmosphere than the old, run-down beach shack it’d been six years earlier when it was Frank’s café. As Starfish and Coffee this restaurant was fresh, exciting, and unbelievably busy. The pulse in the place was sky-high, and the servers ran instead of walked. Everything was very fast-paced and hurried, and still the wait was just a tad toward too long. But there was nothing to be done due to the sheer volume of customers. People didn’t seem to mind. They talked to their friends and family. It was a meeting place for Mirabella, and Alex was likely making money hand over fist because of it.
For the life of him Matt couldn’t fathom why Alex and Holly lived in the same beaten-down place they were at six years ago.
“Then I’ll be there,” he said, rather than comment on it. “Beer and cash in hand.”
Chapter Three
Six years earlier
August 2006
“Frank hired that snowbirdie Tarrington for the morning shift. I guess you’re babysitting.”
“But he’s a college boy.” Alex took a long drink of his beer as he stretched out on the couch and pretended to stare at the baseball game on the television to hide the way his heartbeat picked up. “Why’s he working for Frank when his mama’s got more money than God?”
“Probably some sorta bullshit soul-searching trek into the land of commoners that rich assholes like him do.” His brother Will shook his head and gave Alex a pitying look. “Better you than me, bro. Thank God I work the late shift. I think I would kill that fool. You know he’s gonna cry about getting his hands dirty.”
“Maybe not.” Alex glanced past Will to Holly, who had her beer halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were wide as a grin tugged at her lips. “He always seemed cool to me.”
“You think everyone’s cool. You’re too laid-back—typical beach bum.”
