Page 9 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Lainey

“ C ome on, Midge,” I holler over my shoulder as I walk out onto the front porch of my little cottage on Bay Street that runs adjacent to the water.

The sound of little claws clicking against the ancient hardwood fills the early summer morning.

She bounds through the open door, and we walk to the road, not bothering to lock the door or slip on her leash.

Midge and I round the corner into town, and without warning, she takes off.

I feel my heart start to beat erratically before I realize what—or who —she ran to.

My pulse finally slows down when I see who has bent down and scooped her up.

I jog up to them where Midge is rolled over in his arms, happily receiving a belly rub.

“Well, good morning,” I say, raising an eyebrow first at Midge, then Tate. “Sorry about her. Normally she stays by my side.”

“Normally, handsome men aren’t roaming the streets of a charming town on a Saturday morning either, I’m willing to bet,” Tate says with a wink. He looks around then lowers his voice. “Although I will say, this place is pretty deserted. She didn’t really have many options.”

I feel the corner of my mouth tug up. “Touché.”

“So you admit I’m handsome?” Tate asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and hands Midge over to me. She tries to wiggle free to crawl back in Tate’s arms, I’m sure.

“I’ll admit, this town is deserted on a Saturday morning,” I tease and sit her back on the ground. She happily leaps back over to Tate’s feet and dances around him on her hind legs. “Where are you headed?” I ask, scanning the stores along Water Street. Every single one is closed.

“Well,” Tate starts with a scratch on his chin.

“I woke up sometime around five because of Lucille’s snores, so I wandered down into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee.

Then, I immediately poured it all into the sink after realizing the beans expired probably around the year I was here last.”

My hand flies to my mouth. “You’re kidding.”

“So then, I read on the front porch until I thought Mugs and Memos would be open, which felt so wrong without coffee I might add, but when I made it, I realized she was closed. So now I’m headed to the diner,” He says and shoves his hands into the pocket of his khaki shorts.

He rocks back onto his heels, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

“How much coffee do you normally drink?” I ask with a shake of my head.

“You really don’t want to know,” he says with a sheepish look.

“I hate to break it to you,” I say, “But the diner is closed, too.”

Tate grimaces and lets out a small whimper that is way cuter than it should be. “Lainey, I need coffee.” The way his voice sounds so desperate right now, gravely and not quite awake, makes something stir in the pit of my belly.

“Follow me,” I say with a wave of my hand, unsure of what I’m doing.

No one has joined our family’s Saturday morning breakfast since Eden became pregnant.

But, the way Tate’s face lights up when he realizes he has a chance of getting his much needed caffeine fix, makes me tamp down my concerns and lead him to my dad’s like the lost puppy he is.

“Lainey! Lainey, could you help me for a minute?” I turn around and find Annabelle waving to me from the porch of the general store. “I’ve got a freezer out, and I can’t figure out what’s going on.”

I glance at my watch and bite my lip, knowing I’ll be late if I say yes but also…

the word ‘no’ isn’t something I’ve learned how to say.

If you look it up in the dictionary, I think it is actually defined as “a word Lainey Adams is incapable of using for fear of disappointment, shame, or the harboring of ill feelings.”

I glance at Tate. “Can you give me twenty minutes?”

Tate nods reluctantly. “Do they have coffee?” he whispers as he follows me in.

“Not yet,” Annabelle says, overhearing him. “I haven’t had time to make any because of this darn freezer. Right here is the problem, Lainey.” She gestures to a wide freezer filled with dripping ice cream. I sigh, feeling like my estimate of twenty minutes isn’t going to cut it.

Sure enough, forty-five minutes later, I’m pushing the freezer back into place as it begins cooling down its contents again. ”Alright, I think you’re good to go,” I say to Annabelle. I wipe my hands along my sundress and turn toward the door.

“Can you help me get this ice cream out of here first?” Annabelle asks. “I haven’t had time to do anything to open the store, and I could really use a hand.”

Behind her Tate’s eyes go wide and he sets his mouth in a hard line. “Coffee!” he mouths and holds his palms face up.

“Um, yeah, sure,” I say, trying my best to ignore him. Annabelle goes behind the counter and brings back a big trash bag. Tate helps hold it open while Annabelle and I scoop the melted ice cream into it.

“I’ll take this with me on my way out,” I offer, but Tate grabs it first and hauls it over his shoulder.

“I thought that would never end,” he says out of earshot of Annabelle.

Just as he’s slinging the bag of melted ice cream into the dumpster, I hear, “Lainey! Could I borrow you for a minute?” I close my eyes tightly, and glance up toward the sky.

I just know Huck has eaten all the bacon and pancakes by now.

I whirl around to find Abner, another local fisherman, standing by the docks. “What do you need, Abner?” I ask wearily. He’s covered in fish guts.

“I caught a whole mess of snapper this morning, and my first mate’s off today.

If I don’t get these fileted and on ice soon, I’m going to lose them all.

Would you care to help me finish up? You’re the fastest filet-er on the east coast.” His bushy gray eyebrows dance along his forehead, and I know he’s trying to butter me up.

I glance down at my sundress and back up to Abner. “Sorry, but I actually—”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he promises, interrupting me. My shoulders sink as I head over to him, taking the proffered filet knife.

“Sorry,” I whisper to Tate. “We will get coffee soon, I swear on my life.”

“If you swear,” Tate says playfully. “Can I help?”

I shake my head, never one to ask for help.

God forbid I burden anyone. Tate shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth for a few minutes before finally wandering down the docks with Midge.

A half an hour later—while somehow managing to keep my dress clean—I throw Abner’s last fish on the ice.

“I’ve got to get going,” I say, scanning the docks for Tate and Midge.

My eyes land on them a few rows over, where Midge is happily chasing seagulls and Tate is watching, arms crossed.

Even from here, I can make out an amused smile on his lips.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip that’s the perfect shade of berry red and I frown, feeling that stirring in the pit of my stomach again.

I don’t check out lips. Especially on the guy who broke my heart ten years ago.

Knock it off, stomach.

He catches me watching him, and I wave him over.

“All done,” I say when he strolls up beside me. I glance toward Abner to say goodbye, but he’s already loaded up his cooler into the back of his rusty pick up and backing out, no thanks given. I sigh. “Ready for that coffee?”

Tate nods eagerly and follows me back to the road. “What a crazy Saturday morning,” he says.

I shrug. “It’s always like this,” I mutter.

He glances at me sideways. “Like what? Busy for a Saturday?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I guess so. Busy every morning, really. I always leave my house thirty minutes early for wherever I’m going, knowing I’ll be stopped at least once, but I guess I didn’t plan well enough this morning.

” Tate’s smile disappears when he notices I’m not smiling in return.

He watches me for a second before glancing over his other shoulder, out to the water that’s glistening with the sun that’s now high overhead.

“No one ever says thank you,” I murmur. “Just once, I would love to get a simple thank you.” I sigh, then face him before he can say anything. “But that’s life, I guess. It can’t always be wrapped up in a pretty red bow.”

I gesture to the old white cottage, perennials of every color bursting with life as a reminder of my mom’s presence here at one time.

Everything looks almost the same as when Tate was here last, down to the rocking chairs adorning the front porch, though things are a bit more faded and weather beaten. “We’re here.”

The corners of Tate’s mouth tug down even further before he follows my gaze to the old cottage.

“I’ve always loved this place,” he says.

His face softens, and I watch as the frown slowly lifts from his face.

My gaze snags on his smile, and for a moment, I’m transported back into time.

It’s fifteen years ago, and Tate and I are heading into my house for breakfast after already living a full life that morning.

He’s sunburned across his cheeks, and I’m covered in sand from head to toe.

We’re two carefree teenagers, happy and living in our own little bubble of summertime.

Tate catches me staring, and I look away quickly, wondering if maybe he too was allowing himself to reminisce on those days that seemed to never end…the days our hands mingled together in an innocent brush that eventually led to a stolen kiss and broken promises.

How did we end up like this—two lovesick teenagers forced to grow up into adults who barely know each other?

There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about the night everything changed; the night hurtful words were tossed around and unable to be taken back. That was the night I realized how far gone I was for this boy and how heartbroken I was that he chose not to wait for me.

Tate clears his throat, and I’m grateful for the distraction. “Anyway…about that coffee?”

“Right, the coffee.” I smile and motion for him to follow me down the cracked sidewalk.