“You should come over and say hi.” I realize he means the work site. What I don’t understand, though, is what he says next. “Coach would love to see you.”
If this were a cartoon, a light bulb would be flashing over Lacey’s head. I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I know it’ll end in trouble. “Sure, we will be right over.”
Gunn nods, a dimpled smirk hugging his bearded cheek. “See you over there then. I’m just gonna grab something to eat.” He makes no secret of checking her out, and I avert my eyes because I feel like I’m encroaching on a private moment. His heavy work boots thumping against the linoleum announce his departure.
When he’s out of earshot, she latches onto my bicep and lets out a small squeal. “So Gunn and you?” I don’t have to elaborate as she knows exactly what I’m implying.
“I’ve known him for years.” When I wait for her to continue, she chews her lip, peering over my head to ensure he’s not listening. “Nothing has ever happened between us. We’ve come close, but I don’t know…the timing was never right.”
Gunn’s comment has me raising an eyebrow. “Who’s Coach?” I ask, wondering if maybe he’s the reason the stars haven’t aligned for them.
Lacey scoffs, raising her eyes upward. “Coach is a major pain in the ass. He thinks he’s all mean and tough when, in reality, he’s a puppy dog. He’s…” When she abruptly halts and instead stares at me with a glint in her eyes, I’m almost afraid to ask what she’s thinking.
The customers in front of us have a small basket of goods, so once the belt clears, Lacey begins piling our loot onto it. She’s silent, clearly deep in thought, and I know whatever she’s conjuring up can’t be good. When the young checkout clerk scans over everything we have, she calls for backup over the intercom.
Twenty minutes and three hundred and two dollars later, we’re pushing the loaded cart out the automatic doors. My skin soaks up every wave of heat from the blistering sun, and I stop for a moment, tipping my face up to bask in the warmth. It’s a good day to be alive and spend it with a newfound friend.
“So…” the person in question singsongs beside me.
I risk a glance her way, a little terrified of what that mischievous smirk could mean. “So…?” I repeat, tilting my neck to look at her.
“There is no way all of this stuff will fit into my car.” The loot stares back at me. She’s right. In my excitement, I forgot a little thing called space.
“Crap.” I purse my lips, pondering over our options. Lacey’s VW is already jam-packed. There is no way we’ll have enough room.
“It’s okay,” she pipes up. “I have an idea.”
I don’t have a chance to question what she means because she takes matters into her own hands and marches across the street with the cart. Her VW is parked in the complete opposite direction, so I have no idea where she’s leading me, but I follow, intrigued.
The streets are quiet. It’s everything you’d expect a small town to be. The storefronts are the essentials, providing the townsfolk with the necessities. I’ve visited most, but when my attention shifts to a small boutique, my curiosity is piqued.
I’m not comfortable in the clothes I’m wearing. My entire wardrobe back in Myrtle Beach consisted of expensive brand names and opulent materials, which look far too pretentious to wear down to the local store. When packing, I grabbed the least obnoxious outfits, so it goes without saying I left Stella’s home with a half-empty suitcase.
“What’s the matter?” Lacey asks, hoisting the cart onto the curb.
“Does this dress make me look like a…” I search for the right word. “Snob?” I finally settle on.
Lacey examines me from head to toe and tongues her cheek. “Is this a trick question?”
“Oh, my God!” I cry, horrified, crossing my arms around me to conceal my shame.
“I thought that was the look you were going for,” she teases, which has me groaning. “I’m kidding. I think you look…nice.”
“Nice?” I playfully chide. “Nice is such a noncommittal word. It’s the word you use when you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”
“What about if I said very nice?”
In response, I blow a raspberry.
We continue walking, and just as I’m about to ask where we’re going, Lacey heads in the direction of the construction site. I believe we’re going to bypass it, so you can imagine my surprise when she walks through the metal gates, clearly searching the grounds for someone. There is a sign fastened to the mesh of the entrance: Coachman Constructions.
“What are we doing?” I whisper, smiling politely at the workmen around us. They are just as confused as I am.
“Saying hi to Coach.”
“Now?” I ask, cursing my choice to wear white today of all days.
“Sure. You heard Gunn.”
Brushing down the fragments of dirt from my dress, I don’t bother arguing because Lacey makes it clear we’re not moving a muscle until this notorious Coach graces us with his presence.
As I’m attempting to dance out of the plume of dirt swirling in the air, my attention is drawn to a tall man a few feet away. His back is turned, but his impressive shoulder span and confident stance have me wondering what his front looks like.
In jeans and a light blue shirt, he’s dressed differently than the other men. Poring over a blueprint spread out on the hood of the truck in front of him, he has three men gathered around, listening intently to what he says. He’s clearly the boss, and he clearly has a nice ass.