Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4) (16 page)

I sighed, nodding. “Relationships are hard, no matter which road we choose to take,” I admitted. “I was married right out of high school, but I was killing time for a lot of those years, too.”

We exchanged a glance—a long look of understanding. And acceptance.

“Yeah, it sucks sometimes,” she said. “But the good news is that now you, too, can have a crush on your pool boy!”

I laughed. “Or pizza delivery guy?”

“Exactly. And don’t think Lorelei and Joy won’t try to set you up with every available man on the peninsula while you’re down here, by the way. I’ve got some blind-date stories that’ll make your hair curl.”

“Oh, no. Well, forewarned is forearmed, right?”

“Right,” Abby said unconvincingly. “But—”

“But what?”

“But, well, you’ve caught Gil’s eye, Marianna. Joy’s not going to let
that
go so easily. Just be aware...” Her voice trailed off and she pointed in glee. “Voilà, the Clam Pit! Quick, let’s place our orders before the lines start forming. Trust me, you’re gonna
love
this.”

~*~

T
he two of us returned to Joy and Gil’s booth with the promise of baked clams for the evening and a big bag of kettle corn to share with everyone during the morning rush.

“These are addictive,” Lorelei said, scooping up a handful of kettle corn after the most recent customer left the tent.

But none of us had a chance to chat or nibble for long.

The bracelets were quickly becoming a big hit—a few dozen sold in just the first hour of the Craft Festival. And the other items for sale were benefitting by the bracelets’ popularity. Joy had also sold several pairs of earrings, and Gil needed to replenish his display of painted postcards after a couple of customers discovered and bought his artwork.

I plucked a set of six packaged seascapes from Gil’s postcard arrangement and thrust some money at him before he could protest. “I’m buying these
now
before you sell out of them.”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Don’t be silly, Marianna.” He tried to hand the bills back to me. “I’d give these cards to you—”

“I know you would,” I whispered. Then loud enough for the new customers entering the tent to hear, I added, “They’re a steal at this price. In fact, I want two sets.” I forced a little more money into his hands. “He makes Florida come alive on the paper, doesn’t he?” I said to the visitors, pointing at the postcards I’d just purchased.

“Wow, that’s gorgeous,” one of the strangers said. She snapped up a set that looked similar to mine. “Did you paint these?” she asked Gil.

He ducked his head for a second with a surprising expression of shyness, then he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and beamed one of his sun-god grins at the lady.

She looked as dazzled by Gil as she was by his art. “I’ll get a couple of sets, too.”

I couldn’t suppress a little laugh of triumph, and Joy rewarded me with a smile so full of sunshine, pleasure, and pride that she was nearly bursting from it. Gil just shook his head slightly, but I could tell he was pleased. And I hadn’t been kidding. As I put the cards away in my handbag, I took a second to study the beach-image card on the top of each set, marveling at his talent. He really
did
capture this beautiful Sarasota coast, with its vivid colors, white sand, and vibrant water and sky. I wanted to walk right into his postcard and wander around.

Soon we were too busy for even a few words of conversation beyond the actual transactions. It took all five of us to handle the customer greetings, the constant restocking, and the many sales, especially of the bracelets. One attractive thirty-something guy in a suit and tie came in late in the afternoon and bought
thirty
of them, along with a couple of pairs of Joy’s earrings, and a set of Gil’s postcards.

“Wow!” Joy said to the man as he paid in cash for his order. “Thank you for supporting the B.E.A.D.S. project and our other work, too.”

The suit nodded. “Of course. I heard about these. You’ll be here tomorrow as well, right?”

“Yes,” Gil replied. “Ten to five, just like today.”

“Good.” The man pulled out his smart phone and typed something into it. “You might see me again.” Then he grabbed the bag full of items and strode away.

Abby peered curiously out at him from behind the tent’s canvas wall. “He’s not stopping at any of the other vendors, at least not on our row,” she whispered to them. “He almost seemed like he was on a mission.”

“I wonder how he’d heard about the bracelets?” Lorelei mused.

“Maybe he saw some women wearing them in the Circle,” Joy said. “In any case, I’m glad he did. Now that most of the advanced orders have been picked up, I can see that, although we’ve still got a stash of bracelets for the project left to sell tomorrow, we’ll be able to make a sizable donation after this weekend’s Festival. It’s exciting news, isn’t it?”

We agreed it was.

As we packed up for the evening, Lorelei said she needed to grab her Clam Pit order and race home to the guys, but Abby, Joy, Gil, and I lingered.

“Oh, I’m so psyched!” Joy exclaimed. “Let’s do something fun tonight. What do y’all say?”

“How about baked clams and a movie?” Abby suggested. “Marianna and Gil, are you two in?”

Gil said, “Sure.”

“What about you, Marianna?” Abby said.

“I’m open to anything,” I said. This was true.

“What were you ladies thinking of watching?” Gil asked.

Abby’s grin broadened then she and Joy exchanged some kind of mischievous glance. “Well, nothing goes with baked clams as well as
Clambake
.”

Joy giggled and did a little go-go dancing step in place. I chuckled in surprise. Gil crossed his arms.

“Seriously?” he said, his blue eyes narrowing. “Out of
all
the possible film choices out there, you want to see an old Elvis movie?”

“That’d be fun,” Joy declared. “But how about we let our guest decide. Marianna?”

As if I were crazy enough to contradict Joy and Abby. Plus, it
would
be fun to see an Elvis movie with an Elvis lookalike in the room. I nodded, laughing helplessly. “Sorry, Gil.”

He rolled his eyes. “If anyone asks me to sing along, I will pelt that person with empty clam shells.”

“So you know it, then?” I blurted. “That you...um, sort of resemble him?”

“Since I was about sixteen,” he said with a reluctant grin.

“And he does kinda sing like The King,” Joy whispered loudly.

“I do not.”

“You do, too,” his sister shot back. “He’s really good,” she informed Abby and me.

“I am
not
.”

“You are, too!”

“Can’t you just see them as little kids?” Abby said to me.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“So, it’s decided then,” Joy declared. “Meet at my condo in a half hour. Baked clams,
Clambake
, and I’ll make us a pitcher of margaritas.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get moving, y’all.”

~*~

I
followed Gil’s car on the short drive to Joy and Abby’s condo complex, a warm Clam Pit bag on the seat next to me with an aroma so enticing that it made my empty stomach rumble.

He was waiting for me with his own Clam Pit carryout by the front entrance.

“I’m debating whether or not I have time to scarf down one of these before my sister buzzes us in.” He motioned toward our bags. “The scent is killing me.”

I grinned. “I know. There was a red light that almost lasted too long for me to stand it.”

“The intersection of Third and Willow?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He pressed the buzzer. “C’mon, Joy.”

His sister responded and, soon, we were up on the second floor, where her condo was located, and Abby was waving from down the hall. She met us by Joy’s open door, Elvis DVD in one hand, and a quart of ice cream in the other.

“I was thinking Creamy Caramel Swirl for dessert tonight,” Abby said.

“Perfect,” Gil agreed. “Now, if only I could talk you ladies into a good action flick or, maybe, some light sci-fi/fantasy—”

“Not a chance,” said his sister, motioning all of us inside.

And before I even had a second to stow my belongings in an out of the way corner, Joy thrust a massive margarita at me, edged with a rim of salt and garnished skillfully with a wedge of lime.

“Drink up, honored guest,” Joy said with that impish grin of hers.

I could feel myself beginning to blush at being called that. Thing was, in their presence, they really made me
feel
like an honored guest. Someone special. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d need. Nothing I’d craved. And, yet, the pure gift of it couldn’t be denied. There was a beautiful sense that I was truly being seen and valued. It was impossible not to appreciate that...or to realize just how long that sensation had been missing from my life.

Abby got the movie set up while Joy finished pouring everyone round one of the margaritas. Gil and I worked together to make space on the coffee table and lay out napkins and silverware for each person present. The table was surrounded by seating on three sides—comfy armchairs to the left and the right, angled slightly to face the TV on the wall, and then a small sofa on the long side of the coffee table, facing the TV screen directly. Plenty of room for the four of us.

It wasn’t until Joy and Abby claimed the side chairs and I found myself left only with a space on the sofa next to Gil that I realized the sofa was more like a love seat. Suddenly, this movie thing had a bit more of an intimate feel than I’d expected.

In some ways, the evening felt like getting a taste of what college might have been like for me, had I not already been married, commuting to night classes, and a young mother. Having drinks (potent) and carryout (delicious and still warm) and a movie to watch as a group (a lighthearted romantic comedy) was a fun way to spend several hours just in and of itself.

But I hadn’t counted on that sense of hanging out with a couple of girlfriends, who seemed like roommates after just a few minutes, or that hyperawareness I hadn’t felt in so long toward an attractive man who was sitting only inches away from me. Every shift of his legs, every change in his posture, every rotation of his torso jostled the airwaves and made me more acutely aware of his presence. His body heat radiated outward from his skin so I could nearly feel it. And the sheer size of him! Gil could take up space effortlessly.

“One of the funny things about the film,” Abby said, “is the way the main character that Elvis plays—Scott Heywood—is from Texas.” She raised an eyebrow at Gil.

“The son of an oil tycoon,” Joy added.

“Clearly, nothing like me then,” Gil shot back. “I’m sure he was even from a different part of Texas.” He looked relaxed on the outside, but I could feel some genuine tension drifting toward me, half a foot away. I sensed he was tolerating this teasing, but he wasn’t entirely enjoying it. Maybe something was hitting too close to home?

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie,” I said, trying to pull a little bit of attention away from him. “But I remember that Scott switches places with a very regular guy named Tom, who’s supposed to be starting his job as a water-ski instructor at a resort in Miami. Right?”

“Yeah,” Gil said, sending me a grateful look. “Much as I could live without the goofy songs, the premise of the movie isn’t half bad. It’s like a 1960s version of
The Prince and the Pauper
. I mean, the main guy, who’s played by Elvis, just wants to try to make it on his own. To be seen and liked for himself, not for his father’s money.” He shot a warning look at his sister, who stared knowingly back at him but said nothing.

“A little oil money would be kinda nice, though,” Abby said.

Gil shrugged. “Maybe. But, as we’re told, the best things in life are free.”

True
.

While I would have loved to have more of a financial cushion, I counted my blessings like good health and freedom all the time. How grateful I was that Kathryn was doing well. How, despite our differences, I had a sister like Ellen who loved me. And how glad I was to finally be free of the judgment of my parents and the irresponsibility of my ex-husband.

No one was going to like me or want me because of my money (or lack thereof). If any man ever showed real interest in me again, I was fairly confident it was because he liked my personality or maybe even my looks—but definitely not my bank account. And that was liberating. In this way, Elvis had a point.

As the ‘67 beach film played, the good-looking cast members went out on water skis or in flashy motorboats, took dreamy strolls along the shoreline or sexy motorcycle rides at twilight, or did some clam baking and wild go-go dancing in the sand. Elvis went smoothly from water sports to roasting a variety of seafood...from playing electric guitar to performing chemistry experiments in a nearby lab. (He was developing a special resin formula for racing boats.) Let no one ever claim that Elvis the actor wasn’t versatile!

Somewhere in the middle of the film—our Clam Pit carryout long gone—Joy dished us all scoops of ice cream and made us sing along to “But You Don’t Know Me” with a crooning Elvis Presley on the screen.

Next to me, I could clearly hear the resonant rumble of Gil’s baritone, and I realized his sister had been right. He
did
have a good voice.

But that wasn’t the only thing sending tingles down my spine or making my arms dimple with goosebumps.

It was the smell of him—so masculine and compellingly musky.

It was his observant blue eyes and the laugh lines crinkling at their edges.

It was his smooth, tanned skin and the muscular form underneath.

It was his lips. I kept catching sight of him licking the bottom one as if trying to get every last drop of that caramel ice cream. This motion literally made my knees weak. I was relieved to be sitting down.

It was his very presence.

“Did I miss some ice cream?” he asked me suddenly, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Oh, busted! He’d caught me staring. “Um...” I gulped. Then, faking a look of scrutiny, I added, “Yeah. Just a tiny bit, but I think you got it all now.”