Page 21 of Last Second Chance

“Oh,” I waved my hand dismissively. “You know how it is. There are always guys that think it’s okay to say things to women that they wouldn’t want their moms to hear, if you know what I mean.”

Scott’s frown deepened. “Men harass you?”

“Not to be vain, but I’m a good-looking woman living in a big city. It’s inevitable to get hit on, cat-called, all that crap. It’s bullshit, but I’ve learned to ignore it for the most part.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“It seems like it only happens when I’m alone.”

“Then, maybe I should make sure that you’re not alone anymore. Ever.”

I could feel my pulse race. Were we talking about officially getting back together? Was he saying that he wanted to be at my side all the time? I didn’t expect our conversation to take this turn, not yet. I didn’t know what to say.

The door of the kitchen swung open again, and this time Freya was pushing a cart filled with dirty dishes. She used the back of her hand to wipe a little sweat from her forehead as she came to a stop beside me. Letting out a sigh, she rested her back against the wall.

“Wow, that was a hell of a lunch service. I don’t think I could’ve handled it without your help back here.”

“It’s no problem,” I said, grateful for the distraction.

“Well, how about you guys tell Rick what you’d like for lunch? Anything on the menu. It’s on the house, of course.”

Freya left us, and I turned to Scott.

“I’ll get started on this.” I gestured to the cart. “You want to put in our lunch request? And maybe we can get it to go? I wouldn’t mind enjoying some fresh air while we eat.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

I stood for a moment, watching him walk to the other side of the kitchen. My emotions were all over the place but more than anything, I felt like my sense of caution was battling the affection I still carried for the man. I’d never stopped caring about him, even when I thought he’d betrayed me, but now I knew what it felt like to lose someone that I cared so much about.

A part of me didn’t want to take the risk of getting hurt like that again.

Knowing that I shouldn’t rush any decision about Scott, I turned back to washing the dishes, thinking that I was being presented with the most difficult Would You Rather scenario of all.

Would I rather be with the man I had always loved and risk getting hurt again if things didn’t work out, or protect my heart by staying away from him despite how unhappy I was when we were apart?

Yeah, that was a tough one.

When Scott came back into the dishwashing room a few minutes later, I already had two racks of dishes ready to be put away and a third one in the washer. We worked together without talking now, in sync in a way that made me unexpectedly think of our sex life.

God, we had been good together. He always seemed to know just the right buttons to push, the perfect way to make me fly high and come undone in his big, strong arms. I longed to feel that way again.

When we were finished with the dishes, Scott collected our food from the cook and we headed out of the restaurant. When we passed through the dining area, Freya waved goodbye to us from behind the bar with a big smile. There weren’t many people left sitting at the tables, so I was sure that she and the cook could handle things until the dishwasher scheduled for the evening shift arrived.

I felt good about helping Freya out but as I stepped into the fresh air, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, glad to be outside. The breeze coming in off the ocean felt good on my skin. It had gotten to be late in the afternoon while we were in the restaurant, and I knew that we needed to get back to the hotel soon. We each had a party to attend tonight.

Faith’s bachelorette party was taking place in the same banquet hall as the welcome party a few days ago. I wasn’t sure where Michael’s bachelor gig was going to be, but since Ben was planning it, I was sure that it was going to be fun. He had always thrown the best parties when he was in high school, not that I was ever invited. I was way too young to be included, but I’d heard the stories.

The two of us walked down the boardwalk together, coming to a bench near the end. There was a man set up with an easel next to the bench, and I could see that he drew caricatures from the examples he had on display: Jay Leno, Barack Obama, and Marilyn Monroe.

“Can you draw us?” I asked, taking a seat on the bench.

The artist just nodded as Scott took a seat beside me. We opened our clamshell to-go containers and started eating. I had battered fish and chips while Scott ate a cheeseburger. I couldn’t help teasing him lightly about eating beef in a place where he could have the freshest seafood of his life.

The beach was still full of people, and my eyes were drawn to a family of three—two adults and a child—that were holding up saltine crackers in the air above their heads for seagulls to swoop down and take from them. The child squealed every time a bird took the food from his hand, making his parents laugh.

“They look like they’re having fun, don’t they?” Scott said, and I glanced over at him.

He was watching the family too, and there was warmth in his eyes. Family was important to him, which was something I always loved about him. It was important to me too.

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