Fall (Seaside 4)

I mouthed ‘sorry.’

And received another finger.

How nice, the sweet old lady knows how to flip people off.

I fought the urge to return the gesture — but figured it was probably a bad idea considering a bumper sticker from my dad’s church had found it’s way onto my car.

Every time I took it off.

He replaced it.

Resistance was futile.

Hah! Star Trek! I pumped my fist into the air and then swallowed. “Holy crap, I need a life.”

Starting now. I pulled into the parking lot and vowed… the next few months would be different. I’d take chances, take risks, live on the wild side, and for the love of God, I would NOT think of Jamie Jaymeson, or his eyes, or his smile, or his…

He was dead to me.

“Dead, you hear me!” I slammed my fist into the horn again, this time on purpose, forgetting that my window was open.

A guy from Goodwill walked over and grimaced. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

“Sorry.” I felt my cheeks blush. “I… um, I’m here to deliver donations from Seaside Christian Fellowship?” Yeah… way’ta go, Pris.

He licked his lips and let out a chuckle. “Of course you are.”

And my blush deepened.

“I’ll get the boxes out, you just sit tight. Seems like it’s been a rough day for you.”

“Try rough summer,” I mumbled under my breath.

“I’m Smith.”

I squinted as the sun blinded me. “Is that your last name?”

“First.” He smiled again, this time revealing a deep-set dimple on his left cheek. The sun was shining in my eyes, so really all I could see was teeth, nice white teeth with a big white smile.

Like a movie star.

I groaned.

“Hey, are you okay?” He reached for my door just as I pushed it open, and — you guessed it — knocked him flat on his ass.

“Oh, my gosh!” I rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I wasn’t…” Words died. And then when I opened my mouth to spout more words, smart ones, that sounded… smart and stuff, I gawked.

Gorgeous.

He was beautiful. I let out a little gasp — swear it wasn’t on purpose — and gave him a small smile and tried again. “I really am sorry.”

He grinned again; dirty blond hair fell in disarray across his face as he grabbed my hand, lifting himself off the ground. “It’s alright, you can knock me on my ass anytime.”

Embarrassed, I looked down at my shoe, the most uninteresting white sneaker in the world and said nothing.

“Hey!” a voice said from the door. “Is that the church donation?”

I put a hand over my forehead and squinted. It was Nat’s friend Evan; he was a few years older than me and had just gotten married while the whole AD2 gang was in town for the big celebration of Alec and Nat. Which is also how I met Jaymeson, lucky me.

And pushing that memory away, again, for the fiftieth time that afternoon.

“Yup.” Smith chuckled. “We’ve got everything under control.”

“Okay!” Evan yelled and ran back into the center.

“Boss?” I crossed my arms.

“Worse.” Smith grinned. “Brother.”

“Older?” I asked calmly while my insides were pleading. If he was older than Evan there was no hope. Evan was twenty-one.

“Who’s asking?” He licked his lips and took a step toward me; his height dwarfed my own five-foot-two frame.

“Never mind.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “So, these boxes.” I opened the passenger door and began pulling them out.

We worked together in silence, and within minutes I was free of the donations and able to leave.

“Thanks again!” I forced a smile and got into my car, turning it on, and quickly putting it in reverse, but suddenly Smith was hanging inside my window, and I had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but stare at his perfect lips.

“Older,” he whispered. “Much older.”

I knew it. Oh well. “So you’re like a creepy old man then?”

“Whoa there!” he laughed. “I’m only twenty-three. Let’s not start getting crazy.”

Jaymeson’s twenty-third birthday had been last month.

Would I never be free of him?

“Nice.” I nodded politely. “But I gotta run.”

“Suit, yourself, beautiful.” Smith winked. “But next time, I’ll put on my running shoes, so don’t think you’ll be getting away from me as fast.”

“I’ll just drive!” I yelled out my window as he stepped back.

His eyes seemed to say ‘we’ll see,’ as I watched him from my mirror.

Sweating, I gripped the steering wheel and made my way toward my parents’ modest house just outside of town. He was the type of friend I most certainly did not need.

Which was why I was probably going to go back.

And I’d probably be on a bike.

So he could catch me.

So I could get a damn kiss that erased the memory of Jaymeson for good.

So I could be free of that damn movie star once and for all.

Chapter Five

Jaymeson

Nobody was around to hear my sigh. Not one bloody soul. Probably because my luggage was the last to make its way down the chute and onto the carousel. For a minute I’d thought they’d lost it.

I’d actually smiled at the idea, then I’d at least get to call Peter and bitch about the fact that Seaside was like a third world country — even though technically I was in Portland, and it was a buzzing metropolis. Though I had to admit, Portland people? A bit off.