You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach 9)
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied, but it sounded like I was asking a question. Which I kind of was.
“You on break?” he asked.
I nodded, still not sure why he had followed me.
“You have something to put on over your suit?”
I nodded again.
This time, he grinned. “Put it on, and let’s go eat.”
Let’s go eat. He wanted to eat. With me. “OK,” I said obediently. Like I was going to say no to this.
“I’ve already got a pizza waiting for us and a reserved room. I handled that when I got here.”
Oh, wow. OK. I reached into the bag on my shoulder and pulled out my cover-up and put it on. “Ready,” I said, and he held out his hand.
“Come on. I’m starving. I know you have to be.”
Again, I just nodded. I was so confused.
Tripp led me to the back entrance of the pool café and to a back room reserved for private parties. One table was set with a pizza and two drinks waiting for us.
“I just got regular Coke. If you want something else, just let me know, and I’ll have Crystal get it. She’s the one who set this up for me.”
“Coke is good,” I replied, stupidly.
“Did I take you away from lunch plans?” he asked, looking concerned.
I was acting like an idiot. I needed to snap out of this. I shook my head. “No. I was going to eat in the break room. I packed a lunch, but it’s just a turkey sandwich and an apple. This is so much better.”
Tripp grinned again and pulled out a chair for me. “Good.”
I sat down, and he took the chair across from me. “How’s the job going?” he asked, reaching for a piece of pizza and putting it on my plate.
I was beginning to think I may have passed out from heat stroke and this was some crazy dream I’d worked up. “I, uh, it’s OK. I mean, I like it.”
Tripp got a piece of pizza and put it on his plate. “I was right about the suit. You make it look good.”
I blushed and ducked my head to hide my stupid reaction.
“Been to any wild parties this week?” he asked in a teasing tone.
I laughed and shook my head. “No. It’s all work and no play,” I told him, and picked up the pizza. It smelled delicious, and my stomach was now growling.
“I left off the olives. I love olives, but I wasn’t sure you liked them,” he said as he watched me take a bite. I wouldn’t admit it, but I would have eaten anything he put on this pizza. Just because he got it for me. No guy had ever bought me food before.
“I like olives,” I said after I swallowed.
He nodded. “Noted. Next time, I can have my olives.”
Next time. OK. There was going to be a next time that he bought me pizza.
“Do you work weekends?” Tripp asked me.
“No. I’m only working Monday through Friday this summer.”
Tripp took a drink and studied me a moment. Having his complete attention made me nervous. “I’ve got to drive over to New Orleans on Saturday to pick something up. Want to take a ride?”
I had to be suffering from heat stroke. There was no other explanation. “Sure. Sounds fun,” I replied. If I was going to hallucinate, I might as well enjoy myself.
Tripp
Present day
I had parked my bike and was leaning against it with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting. Bethy still had ten more minutes before her shift was over, but I had gotten out of a board meeting with Woods an hour ago, and there was no point leaving and coming back so soon.
Heels clicked on the pavement, and I turned to see Della walking toward me. Her normally happy smile was gone, and a worried frown replaced it. She was getting married in a couple of weeks. I had the invitation on my kitchen counter. I still hadn’t bought them a gift.
“You waiting on Bethy?” she asked as she stopped in front of me.
I nodded. She knew I did this on the days Bethy worked.
“She still refusing to talk to you?”
I nodded again. I didn’t want to talk about last week and everything Bethy had said. Some things were too painful to verbalize.
“I hate seeing you like this. I wish you’d explain what’s going on. No one understands why Bethy hates you so much and why you follow her daily to make sure she’s OK. It’s a devotion that I’ve only seen from men who are in love, but how can you be in love with Bethy? You hardly know her. You weren’t here long enough to get to know her, and she was Jace’s girlfriend. Something isn’t adding up, Tripp. You’re my friend. When I needed someone, you were there for me every time. I love you, and I hate seeing you do this to yourself. Maybe you need to get away again and put some distance between you and Rosemary Beach.”
I once hoped I could feel something more for Della, but her heart had been with Woods Kerrington before I even met her. I just hadn’t known it. Didn’t matter, though. We were always meant to be friends.
“I can’t leave her” was all I said. Della deserved to know more. She had confided in me when she had no one else to talk to, and I knew she’d be there for me in the same way. We had been close. But this . . . this was more than I could tell anyone. It was a story I wasn’t ready to share.
Della sighed and reached out to squeeze my arm. “I want someone to help her. I do. We all do. But Tripp, why you?”
I tore my eyes away from the door to glance down at Della. “Because I’ve loved her since I was eighteen years old. That’s all I can tell you. And please, don’t repeat that to anyone.” Admitting that to someone other than myself was freeing in a way.
Della’s eyes went wide in shock, and she was speechless. She knew more than anyone else now. “Oh, wow,” she whispered. “Did . . . OK. Um . . . wow,” she stuttered, unsure how to respond.
It was our secret, and now I had told someone. The time I had with Bethy wasn’t something I wanted to shove under a rug or keep hidden anymore. I was tired of hiding the truth. If Jace had lived, I’d have taken the secret to my grave. But he was gone. And I was going to be here for the day Bethy was ready to talk to me.
The door opened, and Bethy stepped out. She swung her gaze over to me, and for a brief moment, we stood there staring at each other. She was acknowledging me. Why?
“I gotta go,” I told Della, throwing a leg over my bike and watching as Bethy climbed into her car.
“Did she . . . did she cheat on Jace with you?” Della asked as if she was afraid of the answer.