Page 49 of The Rookie

“She’s not,” I say through clenched teeth, as old insecurities come back to haunt me, but I don’t want to show that in front of Breton.

“Then I guess she must totally be into Sam, considering the way she was giggling at whatever it was he was saying. Pathetic really.”

“They’re friends.” I take a few deep breaths as the world tilts on its axis.

“Sam and Charlotte, that has a nice ring to it.” She laughs. “Did you know he calls her Charlotte?”

My jaw begins to ache from all the clenching. “Yes.”

“Wes,” she says quietly. “You know we were meant to be together.” She toys with the collar on my shirt. “Can’t you forgive me?” She blinks thick lashes, and makes a pouty face. “I know this whole thing with Charlie is to make me jealous. You could have picked a prettier girl, but still, I get what you’re doing. I’m sure Charlie figured it out by now, too. But I’m a sure thing, Wes. She’s not the girl for you. We could make a good life together.”

“Did you say something to her, about making you jealous?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, but it’s just so obvious. She’s so not your type.”

“It’s over between us, Breton. It has been for a long time now. If you’ll excuse me.” I walk past her, and her huff reaches my ears. Christ, is it possible that Charlie thinks I’m using her to get Breton back? That’s crazy, right? The things we’ve shared, the honesty and openness. We’re building something here, right? Or was Charlie just having a bit of fun with the NHL player?

Fuck.

I head toward the long table set up for the shucking contest and Charlie’s head lifts, her lashes rising and falling slowly as she meets my gaze, and I smile at her. “Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, uh…Breton. I banged…” Her eyes widen and I shake my head. “Not like that. I wasn’t looking and banged into her.”

She nods and turns her attention to the judge, a crusty old fisherman with skin made of leather, as he picks up a microphone and speaks.

Jules claps her hands. “You got this, Charlie.”

Charlie casts her a quick smile just as my phone rings. Shit. I grab it from my pocket, and caller display informs me it’s the team’s manager. As much as I want to watch Charlie shuck and win, I have to take this call. I glance at her and mouth the words sorry as I point to my phone. She smiles but it’s forced.

I slide my finger across the screen, put the phone to my ear, and close my hand over the other to block out the noise. “Hey Mike, thanks for getting back to me.”

I spend the next ten minutes chatting, and there’s a new lightness—hopefulness—in my gut when I hang up. I hurry back to my friends, and exchange a glance with Rider. He arches a brow in question, and I give a nod.

“How is she doing?” I ask.

“I think she’s winning, but I lost count.”

I let the excitement wash through my body, anxious to talk to Charlie later tonight and praying she’ll come with us to dinner. I arranged a special gift for her just for the occasion. As a new kind of urgency wells up inside me, I root her on, and she is so damn impressive. Shucking scallops like she’s a pro, and well really, she is. I take in her competition. Mostly burly men three times her age, and one elderly woman who I recognize as a cook from the Lobster Shack.

“Two minutes left,” the judge calls out, and one man yelps, having cut himself. First aid runs to him, and gets him bandaged up, but he’s out of the competition. Now I’m worried for Charlie. Her fingers are moving so fast, and I didn’t even realize how dangerous this could be.

The judge begins a countdown and we all do it with him. He blows a horn to signal the end and everyone raises their hands. I grin as I glance at Charlie, who has scallop juice on her face and in her hair. The judge starts counting the scallops in their bowls.

She’s not into NFL superstar Sam Gilmore, right?

With two job offers in Toronto, she has a way out of here and doesn’t need Sam. Not that I think she’s that kind of girl, she’s not. Funny thing is, for the very first time in my life, I want to be a girl’s ticket out of Digby, Nova Scotia. What’s not funny is, she doesn’t want to go. Sure, there is a part of her that needs to go, but her heart and soul are here in Nova Scotia, and I might just have the perfect solution.

Jesus, don’t let me fuck this up.

“Hey dude, there you are,” Les says and slaps me on the back. “Big-ass superstar, don’t even make time for your cousin, anymore.”

“Just been busy,” I say, and smile at him. “Les, meet my friends Rider and Jules.”

“Rider Lewis. I’m a fan, man.” He zeroes in on Jules and swipes his long hair from his forehead. “Jules, a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.”

“Cool it, cousin.” I give him a shove before Rider does. “Jules is Rider’s wife.”

He laughs and winks at Rider. “Sorry, dude.”

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