Fall (Seaside 4)

And silence.

“What?” I snorted. “Nothing to say to that?”

“Oh sorry. I didn’t know you were being sarcastic.” She turned around and gave me another one of her silly grins, the ones that made me want to jump into her head and find out what about me made her laugh so damn hard. Was I that much of a joke?

“I miss work,” I said breaking eye contact. “I miss fake guns, jumping out of cars, saving the damsel, and working for the CIA.”

It was true. I did. But most of all? I missed the feeling of accomplishment that my job gave me. It wasn’t that I was against donating my time to fill boxes, I was just used to more going on. I didn’t do vacations. I didn’t do relaxation time. The last time I vacationed it was forced, because technically it was a working vacation here in Seaside.

Vacations made me feel insecure — they made me feel like I was going to fall off everyone’s radar. If I wasn’t seen and heard, how would I get cast?

“Hey.” Pris nudged me. I jumped a foot. “You okay? I asked you if you wanted to take a break for lunch and you completely ignored me.”

“Uh, yeah.” I taped the box she was holding and nodded. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired or something.”

“Box taping.” She winked. “Does that to a person.”

“Right.” I forced a laugh. “So does that mean I get to take you to lunch?”

She tucked a few pieces of dark hair behind her ears, as a blush stained her cheeks. “Well, I mean, we can just go grab something really quick or—”

“Or you can stop trying to think of an excuse to not spend time with me, and let me take you to lunch. All things considering, I probably owe you a lifetime of meals after the way things went down a few months ago—”

“Let’s not.” She lifted her hand. “Let’s not go there, okay? Just leave it.” Her shoulders slumped just slightly — enough for me to know that the subject was that hard for her to talk about.

And it was my fault.

“Alright,” I said slowly. “Let’s go, I know a place.”

“Oh yeah? The great Jaymeson knows a place? In Seaside?”

I smiled and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Just you wait, love, just you wait.”

Instead of getting into my car and driving somewhere, I decided it would be way more fun to walk and talk. Right, I know, you heard it here. Jamie Jaymeson had just grown ovaries.

True story.

I wanted to talk.

The last time I actually voluntarily talked to a woman without intentions of getting her into bed: Kindergarten.

“I love this place!” Pris touched my shoulder and then walked up the stairs ahead of me.

My damn shoulder was in heaven. Seriously, I could feel the heat from her fingertips, and I was convinced that if I stripped right then and there — a mark from her touch would make itself known on my skin.

“Come on!” she yelled ahead of me.

“Yeah, yeah.”

The waitress met us at the door. “Just sit wherever you want! I’ll bring you some menus.”

“Seaside Brewery,” I read the sign. “Best beer in town.”

“Oh yeah?” Pris tilted her head. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” I leaned forward, you know to hear her better, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was trying to smell her perfume, or kiss her, or you know, touch her face. Bloody freaking hell, her lips were pretty.

“Beer,” she whispered.

It was adorable.

I probably had the dopiest grin on my face, but I couldn’t help it. Her innocence wasn’t just shocking, it was invigorating. It made me wonder what else she didn’t know about, and it pissed me off that anyone else would dare introduce her to new things. It should be me. Only me.

“Like shit,” I answered honestly. “It’s kind of like coffee. An acquired taste, but once you get used to it, you can discover the different types of wheat and grain used in beer as well as flavors used to make it.”

“Really?” Her nose scrunched up.

“Really.” There went that damn grin again. Hold it together man!

“So, it tastes like… wheat?”

I laughed aloud. The waitress brought us two dinner menus and placed them on the table. “No, love, it doesn’t taste like wheat.”

“Grain?” Her nose scrunched even more.

“It tastes like…” I paused. “Tell you what. I’ll let you taste it.”

“No!” She put her hands out in front of her and whispered, “That’s illegal.”

“Holy shit.” I covered my face with my hands and laughed. “I seriously want to take you home with me, and not in the way you’re thinking — I mean, yeah that’s crossed my mind several times.” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh please, I’m still me. I’m just saying, you’re so damn adorable. Remind me why we can’t live together?”

“You’re a whore.”

“Please.”

“It’s a sin.”

“Come on.”

“You’d die without sex.”

“I’m not that weak.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Low blow.”

She gave me a saucy grin and picked up her menu. “So what’s good?”

“Everything.” I licked my lips. “Every damn thing. And I’m getting you beer. Actually I’m getting me beer and praying I don’t get arrested for letting you taste it. And if I were you, I’d go for the fish and chips. You can never go wrong with fish and chips at a pub.”