Page 16 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Tate

T he ache in my lower back throbs enough to wake me up.

I crack one eye open, then the other, and scan the room for any clues as to where I am and why.

My eyes land on the pink bottle of antihistamines, a green straw bent over the top.

Slowly, memories come back to me, and I piece them together like an all too familiar puzzle.

I run a hand through my hair then drag it down my face and groan.

Did I really reenact a scene from Hitch last night?

“Morning, sunshine.” Lainey walks in carrying a steaming mug of coffee, and offers it to me. “How are you feeling?”

“So itchy,” I answer, scratching under my chin.

“But better. Although my back is killing me.” I sit up, and the blanket Lainey must’ve tucked around me pools into my lap.

It’s only then I remember getting hot last night and throwing my shirt across the room.

Lainey’s cheeks flush crimson and she looks away.

I follow her eyes to my shirt that is casually draped across her table lamp.

“I’m assuming you typically don’t sleep on couches found on Facebook Marketplace in a stranger's home?” She cocks an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth turns up in a grin.

“I didn’t mean to insult your couch,” I say, and take a sip of my coffee. “Although, yes, you’re half right. I have a Sleep Number mattress that gets upgraded every three years. But, I wouldn’t say we’re strangers.”

She considers this for a moment. “I think that’s debatable. I know nothing about the last ten years of your life, other than where you went to school, and that you’re an accountant now.”

“There’s not much else to know,” I say. Other than the entire reason I’m here is because the girl I thought I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with was cheating on me.

Also, the perfect, predictable life I so desperately wanted to create to prove I am nothing like my own father is currently crashing around me. But we’ll save that for another day.

“Hmm,” she muses. “Well anyway, I would hope you weren’t insulting my couch considering you compared the two of us last night,” she says with a snort.

“I did? How are you like a couch?” I take another drink of coffee and briefly consider sliding the bendy straw into it for faster access to caffeine.

Her eyes widen, then she taps her chin with a single faded, chipped polished nail. “Beats me. Benadryl makes you do crazy things, I’ve heard.”

“Apparently so,” I agree. “Sorry about that.”

“No biggie,” she says. “I made breakfast if you want some. No shellfish. I promise.”

“Well in that case, how could I say no?” I follow her to her modest kitchen and take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs at a battered farm table in the corner.

Her kitchen is an eclectic mix of original, whitewashed exposed brick, and more modern touches, like a stainless steel range and fridge.

Baskets hang from the ceiling, and fresh flowers pepper almost every available surface.

“Your home is beautiful,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says, while placing an omelet and basket of biscuits in front of me.

“This is amazing,” I say through a mouthful of food. “You whipped this up while I was drooling on your couch?”

Lainey smiles. “I’m glad I could scrounge up something. I’ve been staying with Dad most nights.”

“Is he expecting you? Maybe I should get going,” I offer.

“No, no. Henry took him to Durham for a doctor's appointment for his heart. They won’t be back until this evening.”

I try to bite back my smile, thankful for the opportunity to spend more time with Lainey. “These biscuits,” I moan. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

Lainey takes one from the basket and bites into it.

“I taught myself. After mom died, we were all kind of lost on what to do after the supply of casseroles and hams ran out. I used to sit in my bed with a flashlight every night and read mom’s cook books, marking the ones I’d want to make the next day.

Believe it or not, I’m the one who taught Huck how to cook.

Who knew he’d go and open up a diner.” She smiles softly, but I remember what she said about her dreams being pushed aside for his, and my heart aches for her.

“Let me guess, you taught your brothers how to change a tire, too?” I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. When she doesn’t tip her head back in laughter, my smile fades. “Wait, did you?”

“Someone had to after mom passed. Dad was always out fishing, trying to keep food on the table, so he couldn’t do it.

Not that he wouldn’t have. He’s the best dad.

” Her eyes well with unshed tears, and she quickly blinks them away.

“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. What are your plans for the day?

” Lainey’s eyes are everywhere but me, and she’s ripped her napkin to shreds.

Without waiting for an answer, she stands and begins clearing the dishes, dumping them into a sink full of soapy water.

Gently, I spin her around and pry a plate from her hands. “What are you doing?” she asks, eyebrows arched in suspicion.

“Lainey, you take care of everyone else all the time. Let me take care of you, just this once. Let me wash your dishes.” I hug the plate to my chest and she lunges for it.

“Give it to me!” she squeals, and I lift the plate higher above my head, out of her reach.

I try to ignore the way Lainey is pressed up against me, her sunshine and vanilla scent intoxicating, but when she accidentally steps on my toe, her hands fly out to my hips to steady herself, and there’s no ignoring the feel of her hands against me.

They’re still soapy and warm against the bare skin above my jeans, but she doesn’t move.

When she tips her head up, her lower lip is caught between her teeth. “Sorry,” she breathes.

“No worries,” I say, setting the plate down behind her but never breaking my gaze from her green eyes.

I’m close enough to see the flecks of hazel scattered in them, like confetti.

“Let me do this for you,” I say, my voice husky, even to my own ears.

Her eyes flit down to my lips, and I take that as my cue.

I’ve kissed Lainey before, but so much has changed in a decade, and I can’t wait to see if she still tastes like her favorite vanilla chapstick.

Just as I’m tilting my head for that perfect kissing angle, I hear, “LAINEY ANN ADAMS!”

Lainey immediately pulls her hands from my hips and spins around.

“What in tarnation was this doing on your lamp?!” Lucille shrills, her mouth puckered in disgust. Between her thumb and forefinger, she holds my shirt as if it’s poisonous, then stomps over to me.

“You! I knew you were bad news as soon as you stepped foot in my home.” She pokes a finger at my bare chest. “Taking advantage of our sweet Lainey.” Before I can say anything, Lucille whirls around to face Lainey.

“And you! The audacity to bring a boy home and let him stay overnight, let alone one that’s a smoker and a criminal! ”

“Lucille,” Lainey says, fighting back a giggle. “He’s not a criminal. And Dave said I needed to keep an eye on him overnight, remember?”

Lucille’s eyes widen, realizing she’s made a mistake. “Well, it’s past ten and that’s more than enough time for him to have left. He’s fine now,” she says, scanning me up and down with narrowed, beady eyes. “I bet he’s robbed every rental on the east coast,” she mutters.

“I don’t smoke,” I reply lamely. Because the truth is, I was just caught red handed trying to kiss Lainey, after barely reconnecting with her. What am I even thinking?

“Apparently, no one ever taught you to respect your elders either,” she huffs and throws my shirt at me, “Put this on, you harlot.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Lainey says, “Why are you standing in my kitchen at ten in the morning, Lucille? Can I help you with something? Is something wrong?”

“First of all, lock your doors. This town’s not safe anymore.” She narrows her eyes again in my direction. “Second of all, I wanted to drop off your stack of flyers for Founder’s Day.”

Lainey peers at her empty hands. “Where are they?” she asks.

“I forgot them,” Lucille says, her nose in the air with righteous indignation.

“Ahh,” Lainey says with a nod. “How about I come get them later this morning?”

Lucille considers this for a moment. “I suppose that could work.” We all awkwardly stand in Lainey’s tiny kitchen, Lucille making no move to leave.

She continues staring daggers at me, and it’s enough to make my upper lip break out in a sweat.

Who knew this sweet-looking, four-foot-eleven, grandmotherly woman could be so mean?

Finally, Lainey says, “Okay, then…I’ll see you in a little bit, Lucille.”

“I’m timing you,” she mutters, before heading toward the door. Right before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder at me and lets out a little snarl.

“Did you see that?” I ask Lainey after she’s gone. “She definitely growled at me.”

Lainey giggles. “She’s all bark and no bite. I know she just wanted to see if you were still here to update the town and give them some new gossip. They haven’t had anything new to talk about since Eden’s bikini bottoms fell off when she was leaving the beach a month ago.”

“Oof,” I say. “How does that even happen?”

“The string got caught in her beach chair. Anyway, sorry about that,” Lainey says with an apologetic smile. “Lucille’s really not that bad once you get on her good side. Honestly, I think she likes you.”

“There’s no way,” I say. I glance down at my shirt and stretch it over my head.

When I pop my head through the opening, I catch the deep crimson flush of Lainey’s cheeks, and my mind starts to wander back to our almost kiss.

I glance toward the plate the same time Lainey does.

When she reaches for it, I playfully swat her hand away, secretly wishing she’d step on my toe again and give us a chance to finish what we started.

I need to snap out of it. “I’m doing your dishes, Lainey,” I tell her, turning around and plunging my hands in the soapy water, afraid if I don’t, I’ll do something I can’t take back—like wrap them around her and kiss her until I can’t think straight.

“What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch?” she asks. Her face twists in agony, as if taking a second for herself would kill her.

“Watch me if you want, relax on your couch, read a book, I don’t care. But you’re not doing these dishes,” I say. I dip my hand into the soapy water then flick the bubbles at her. “Shoo.”

Lainey eyes me for a moment and chews on her lower lip. “Thank you, Tate.”

My eyes meet hers for one heartbeat, then two. Gosh, those eyes. I could get lost in them. I will myself to stay grounded where I am and focus on the task at hand, and finally, she turns and walks out of the room.

“Anything for you, Lainey,” I whisper.