Page 20 of A Shore Fling

NINA

I ’m waiting on the front porch when Travis’ truck pulls into the driveway. I push myself up from the lobster trap chairs that are growing more comfortable the longer I’m here.

He shuts off the engine and gets out, closing the door. “Hey.” His lips part in a long, slow smile that weakens my knees.

“Hey yourself.”

“You look nice,” he tells me.

I glance down at my light-pink shirt, tan shorts, and the new white sneakers that just got delivered this morning. “Thank you. Are you sure I don’t look too casual?” It’s not that I’m looking for another compliment. I’m just not used to dressing this way.

“Not at all. Look at me.” He turns in a slow circle. The black basketball shorts hug his ass, and the gray New England Patriots t-shirt shows off his broad shoulders. He looks drool-worthy to me. “Embrace the casual vibe like I do,” he says. “It’s part of being a beach bum.”

“I’m trying, but it’s an adjustment.”

He moves over to the back of his truck, opening the tailgate. “I had an idea for something fun we can do.” He lifts a tandem bicycle from the bed and sets it down in the driveway. “What do you think?”

I stare at the dark-blue bike, as if it might turn feral at any second. “I think I’ll maim us both if we get on that.”

He chuckles. “There’s no way that’ll happen. I’m going to ride in front and you’ll be in the back. All you’ll have to do is pedal and follow my commands.”

“That sounds deceivingly easy,” I say, giving him a skeptical look.

“It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

I cross my arms. “Do you know how many times in my life I’ve regretted agreeing when someone’s used that phrase?”

He tips my chin upward with a fingertip. “It doesn’t matter because it wasn’t me saying it. You must realize by now, I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

I nod. “I do.”

“Great.” He flashes a quick glimpse of his straight teeth, and swings a leg over the bike. “Climb aboard.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Or should I say aye, aye, harbormaster?” I joke as I wiggle my rear end onto the seat. “Too bad you didn’t find one with a sidecar I could ride in.”

He laughs, and the deep sound surprises me. I’m still not used to seeing this lighter side of him, but I want to experience more of it.

He places his hands on the handlebars and looks over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Define ready,” I mutter, adjusting my hands on the grips in front of me. “Am I steering too?”

I ask, panicking.

“No. Those are for you to use for balance. I’m controlling the steering and braking. Just start pedaling when I do. Stay loose, keep your eyes open, and don’t scream unless we’re about to crash.”

“How reassuring,” I deadpan.

He pushes off, and the bike lurches forward. I let out a surprised squeak as I scramble to catch the rhythm of his pedaling. It’s awkward for the first ten feet, but then the tires roll smoother, our legs sync up, and the breeze hits my face as we cruise down the street.

“See?” he calls out over his shoulder. “You’re a natural.”

“So you’ve said before… a natural disaster.”

“Forget I ever said that. I didn’t mean it.”

We coast past a row of beach cottages, some with chipped paint and sagging porches, others perfectly kept with flower boxes spilling over with color.

The scent of ocean air mixes with someone grilling nearby, and for the first time in a while, I feel like a young kid again with no responsibilities and no reason to rush anywhere.

He confidently steers us around a curve, and I hear his low chuckle.

“What?”

“Are you breathing?”

“Yeah, just cautiously.”

“You can relax. We’re doing well, you haven’t maimed us, we’re both alive. I’d say this ride has been a success.”

“We’re not there yet,” I remind him.

“We’re taking a left up here,” he says, coasting toward the intersection. I follow his lead, allowing my body to mirror his movements as we make the turn into the area where Reed’s surf shop is located. The bike rolls gently over the cracked sidewalk as we come to a stop.

“We made it,” he announces, hopping off with ease.

I slide off less gracefully, landing with a little thud and an awkward step back. “Wow, I only mildly feared for my life that entire time.”

“See? You’re improving already.”

He parks the bike in a rack near the door, and then we enter the shop to the sound of chimes once again. Reed looks up from behind the counter, smiling when he spots us. “Hey, you two. Nina, thank you so much for coming. I’m excited about hearing your ideas.”

“You might change your mind halfway through my list,” I warn.

He shakes his head. “That won’t happen. Travis, can you man the register while Nina and I talk?”

“Yeah.” Travis reluctantly slips behind the counter.

Reed leads me toward a small seating area near the back of the shop that’s made from two barstools and an old surfboard mounted sideways on the wall, forming a makeshift counter.

A bulletin board cluttered with flyers for local events, surf lessons, and a few pictures of happy customers holding their new boards hangs on the wall above.

“I figured we’d start here,” he says, gesturing to a handwritten list on a notepad. “I’ve got the basics—tees, hats, and hoodies—but I know I’m missing out on the crowd that comes in just to browse or buy gifts.”

“Exactly.” I glance around the shop. “Right now, your inventory mostly targets surfers and serious beachgoers, which makes sense. But there’s a whole group of seasonal tourists, especially women, who’d buy something if it felt more unique or useful.”

He nods. “That makes sense.”

“So you want to give them more to look at. What if you expanded your branded merch to include items that aren’t surfing specific? Like beach totes, towels, insulated water bottles, maybe even candles with coastal scents.”

Reed’s eyebrows lift. “Candles? Seriously?”

“Trust me. Beach house owners and renters love stuff like that. You could source them locally, and slap your logo on the label. It makes your brand not only part of their experience here, but it sticks with them once they’re home.”

Reed scratches his chin, clearly considering it. “What else?”

I lean forward, growing more animated. “I was thinking branded cooler bags. They’re easier to carry than a boxy cooler.

And people utilize them when they buy groceries, so it’s not something they’re never going to use again.

You could also do a branded lip balm with SPF.

I bet those would fly off the shelf in this place.

Same with hair ties and beachy jewelry.”

Reed whistles low. “You’re good at this.”

I smile. “I do have a marketing degree that my parents spent a small fortune on. But, seriously, the key is making sure the shop appeals to casual browsers as well as the locals. People want souvenirs they’ll use, not just t-shirts and hoodies.”

He nods again, more enthusiastically this time. “And what about the stuff I already sell? Should I be doing more with that?”

“Absolutely. You’ve got a cool logo and great local recognition. But you’re not putting that logo on as many items as you could. Stickers, magnets, keychains, coffee mugs, and shot glasses are all impulse buys people rarely skip.”

Reed chuckles. “You’re making me feel like I’ve been asleep at the wheel.”

“You haven’t. You’ve built something solid. I’m just here to help you grow it.”

Behind us, Travis mutters something under his breath to a customer, and we both glance over. He catches me watching and raises an eyebrow, as if to say when can we get out of here?

Reed notices and grins. “You two aren’t doing as much barb slinging with each other.”

“For now, we’re operating under a temporary ceasefire, but that could change at any moment.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced.

I turn back around and tap my pen against the notepad. “Let’s go over a few ideas you can start implementing this month. We can meet again and figure out what the long-term plan looks like.”

“That sounds amazing.”

I spend the next ten minutes jotting down things for Reed to do. To make it as easy as possible, I list them in order of importance.

“You’ve given me so much to work on and consider. It’s exciting to think about all we can offer by this time next year.”

“We didn’t discuss what you do in the off-season. Does this place stay open year round?”

“I’m planning for that, but I expect business will fall way off.”

“Are there any places to ski or snowboard nearby?”

“There’s Green Hill in the next town over. My brothers and I go there every winter to snowboard.”

“That’s perfect.”

He tilts his head. “How so?”

“What if you sell snowboarding and skiing gear during the late fall and winter months? Then you’d maintain your business year-round.”

His eyes come alive with excitement. “You’re a fucking genius.”

I wave my hand. “Not at all.”

“You absolutely are. Don’t even try to disagree. I feel like a dumbass for not already thinking of doing this.”

“You’re too close to the situation. It’s easier for someone with a set of fresh eyes to see what needs to be done.”

“Would you be willing to help me pick out some of the winter gear items? I think it would be wise to get a female opinion. Otherwise, everything I’m choosing will be black or navy blue.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I think it’s imperative for me to help you with that.”

He laughs. “I can’t thank you enough. What can I do to repay you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need a single thing, and this was fun for me.”

He stands. “We'd better put my brother out of his misery.”

I slip from the stool and take in Travis’ grumpy countenance as he watches the two of us. “Why’s he look so miserable?” I ask.

“Because he doesn’t like me spending time with you.”

“No. That can’t be the reason.”

“I promise you it is. Watch this.” Reed steps forward, drawing me into his arms.

I catch Travis’ scowl just before he hurries around the counter and starts toward us.

“Is he coming over?”

“Mhmm.”

Reed releases me, and a grin spreads across his face. “Told you so.”

“Can we get out of here now?” Travis asks as he approaches.