Finding Haven (15 page)

E
VAN PARKED
his Jeep in the side employee entrance. He noticed Haven’s bike was racked in the
stand. He exhaled. Today was going to be interesting. There probably wouldn’t be any
kayak races after work. He would keep it cool and give her space.

He sauntered through the doors and grabbed an apron from the hook. Haven had explained
that they wouldn’t open the stand until mid-morning. His first duties of the morning
would include sweeping and getting the coffee ready. He could use a tall cup. The
shower wasn’t long enough to wake him up.

“Hey, good morning.” He pulled the strings against his back. Haven was at the register,
counting bills.

“Hey.” She didn’t look up and continued to stack the money in rows.

“What can I help you with?” He looked around for the coffee pot—his first choice.

“Ten—twenty—thirty—uh, why don’t you grab a broom from the closet and start on the
aisles?”

“Got it.” Evan spun on his heels to fetch the broom.

Sweeping it would have to be. He picked up the broom and tossed it to his other hand.
He walked to the corner of the store farthest from Haven. The walk-in coolers hummed
as he made piles of dirt. He had made it through five aisles before Haven walked toward
him.

“So, after you finish with the floors, do you think you could unload some of the boxes
that came in? They are kind of heavy for me to move around. I’ll put the merchandise
on display. You don’t have to do that part.” Her gaze was steady, almost robotic.

“Absolutely. Just point me to the boxes. I’m your man.” He wanted to kick himself.
That was a stupid thing to say. He had vowed not to flirt.

She turned away. “Let me just go ahead and show you where they are. You can come back
to this.”

He followed her to a storage room off the hallway where the aprons hung. He could
barely walk two feet into the room, it was so stuffed with mannequins, fishnets, and
boxes.

“Wow. There’s a lot going on in here.” Evan looked at the shelves near the ceiling.
Every single one was loaded.

Haven retrieved a box cutter and marked the boxes she needed help with. “All of the
ones I need on the retail side have an X on them. Ok?” She hurried past him. “Just
move those when you’re done sweeping.” She was gone before he could respond.

He looked at the stack and decided to haul a few to the retail side before rejoining
his broom. T-shirt boxes were a lot heavier than he expected. He huffed as he placed
the boxes on the floor. Definitely need to get back in the gym, he thought. Maybe
Haven could tell him if there was one of the island.

He approached the counter where she was scribbling something on a roll of register
paper. He recognized that look on her face; he had seen it before.

“Did a song hit you?”

She gathered the paper in her fist. “I-I was—”

“Can I hear it?” He leaned on his elbow.

Her blue eyes sparkled. “You want to hear it? Really?” Her tone softened. It was the
first time she had countered his gaze all morning.

“Writer to writer. Let me hear it.”

She set her mouth in a determined line as if she was mentally sorting the pros and
cons of sharing the words with him.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want. No pressure.” He backed off the counter a few
inches.

“Ok. Yeah. Maybe you can help me. Writer to writer.” She smiled.

Evan liked that smile. It reminded him why he had taken the job in the first place—he
was just trying to help a pretty girl.

Haven flattened the creases in the paper and held it up to read.

Holding you is like catching the wind

Breezing in and out of my arms

Before my heart can decide to let you in

You’re gone and maybe you’ll be back

But everything already feels lost and dark

She looked at him expectedly, her forehead creased with worry.

“Wow. You wrote that? How does the rest go? I want to hear the whole thing.”

She bit her lip. “That’s part of my problem. I get bursts of words, and then I can’t
finish the songs.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m here all the time. I don’t have time
to write. I have fifty of these partially written songs. I can’t finish them.”

“But you have to finish that one. It-it needs to be finished.” There weren’t many
words, but there were enough to make him want more. It was like getting half a kiss;
it just wasn’t enough.

“So, you like it?” Her teeth sank into her lip again.

“I do. I really do.” He looked in her eyes to reassure her that there was something
to what she had created, but the minute he did, he felt like he was the one who needed
reassurance.

“I-I’m going to go finish up with the floors.”

“Ok.” Haven folded the paper in half and tucked it in her apron. “Thanks for listening.”

“Sure thing.” He walked to where he had left the broom, and realized he had never
asked her about the gym. Dammit. Girls were the worst distraction—especially girls
with beautiful blue eyes.

H
AVEN FLICKED
the loop of her apron on the wooden peg. Five o’clock couldn’t get here fast enough.
Although, the day hadn’t been nearly as awkward as she thought it was going to be.
Jay was cool. He didn’t make her uncomfortable, and unlike Travis, he didn’t pressure
her at every turn to go out with him again. He was a few years older than she was.
Maybe it was a maturity thing, or maybe it was a Jay thing.

He should be closing down the rental stand by now. She pushed the screen door open,
and watched as he locked the hatch on the booth.

“How did it go today?” The sun blared in her face. She held a hand up to shield her
eyes.

“Easy. I rented a few snorkel sets, a kayak, and two fishing poles. I think I have
the job of the summer.” He smiled, revealing his white teeth.

Her cheeks heated as she remembered his mouth on certain parts of her body, and what
those teeth had done.

“I’m glad you like it so much.” She couldn’t understand why. Shouldn’t he be itching
to write like she was? She walked with him to their vehicles. She thought about how
things had unfolded between them last night. Everything had been fun and easy until
she flipped and ran out of the camper. It took constant pep talks throughout the day
not to dive into an explanation of what happened when she pulled away from her. Although,
she wasn’t sure she had it figured out. The kissing was undeniably amazing, his hands
were incredible, but her brain battled with her body and won. It’s for the best, she
thought. He might be gorgeous and have an affinity for perfect lyrics, but it could
get complicated quickly.

He pulled open the door to his Jeep. “So, I guess we get to do this again tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it’s like
Groundhog Day
. A new day, but same old stuff.” She walked over to her bike. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Jay closed the door behind him and joined her.

Her front tire was flat. Flat as a freakin’ pancake. If she tried to ride home, she
would bend and mangle the rim. That beach cruiser had cost two hundred dollars; it
would be expensive to repair a tire and a rim.

“Looks like I have a flat.” She bent down to examine the tire, trying to locate where
the hole was. If there was only one, she could have it patched.

“All right. No problem.” Jay reached behind her and lifted the bike into the air.

“What are you doing?” She watched as he carried the bike to the open frame of his
Jeep.

“I’m giving you a ride. Hop in.” He had gently placed the cruiser in the backseat
and was now climbing in his side of the car.

Haven walked to the passenger door and slid into the seat. Jay cranked the Jeep and
country music blasted through the speakers.

“You sure do like country music.” She thought about the music they listened to last
night at the campground.

“Yeah, well I’m from Texas.” He slid his sunglasses over his eyes.

“I thought you were from Georgia, but Texas makes a lot more sense.” She didn’t think
cowboy steaks were a Georgia thing. “Why the Georgia plates?”

He threw the Jeep into reverse and positioned them in front of the road. “I don’t
know where you live. Which way?” He motioned to the road. One side would take them
toward the campground and ferry docks, and the other around the cove, where Haven’s
apartment was.

“Go right. I’m all the way around the cove. At the very end.”

“Nice. I haven’t seen this part of the island.” He peeled out of the parking lot,
kicking up gravel with the tires.

A flock of seagulls split their V-formation as Jay steered around the circular cove
that was the main attraction of the village.

“Take another right here and then left at the mailbox.” Haven pointed at her road.
It was off the main path, and only the locals knew where this house was.

“This is where you live?” Jay eyed the two-story beach house with a wraparound porch.

“Yeah, but only one fourth of it is mine. It’s an amazing house. It was divided into
apartments awhile back. I would love to see it as a whole house. It would be incredible.”
She stepped out of the Jeep and nervously fidgeted with her keys.

“Which one is yours?” He retrieved the bike from the backseat and placed it on the
driveway. He wheeled it on the back tire to keep from damaging the front rim.

Haven showed him where the bike rack was. She didn’t want to deal with the tire right
now. She could take her car to work in the morning. “I have the corner one. A view
of the ocean and the cove. If I only get part of it, at least I have the best part.”

“No kidding.” He was already ahead of her jogging up the stairs and canvassing the
porch. “Nice hammock.”

“Thanks. I do a lot of writing out here.”

Haven remembered the few notes she had scribbled early this morning. She bit her lip,
wondering if this idea would work. Jay leaned against the railing and faced the boats
in the marina. He was an easy-going guy, pleasant, full of smiles, flirty as hell,
but that look—she recognized that look. He was searching for something, and it wasn’t
in the marina. Why hadn’t she noticed that look before?

She cleared her throat. “Would you want to help me finish the song from this morning?”

He turned from the railing. “Ah, I’m not a songwriter, sweetheart. I don’t know how
I can help you.”

“But, you’re a writer. Maybe if I can talk through it with you, I’ll find the right
words. Would you try it?” She had never asked anyone to help her write before, but
maybe she needed some creative brainstorming to get things going.

“Sure. I’ll give it a shot. But, I’m not making any promises.” He smiled.

“Really? You’ll do it? Ok, wait right here. I’ll get my guitar.” She rushed past him
to go in through the sliding door.

“You wouldn’t have any beer in there, would you?” he called after her.

She wrinkled her nose. “No, but I have wine.”

“Wine will work.” He turned back to the harbor, and she walked inside, giving him
a chance to look for whatever he thought he was missing.

H
AVEN SPUTTERED
wine onto the front of her guitar. “You can’t be serious. You think ‘bunk’ is the
way to go?” She giggled. “Ok, so you want me to sing:
Your kisses make me feel drunk, when we’re together we should bunk
?”

“Pure poetry, baby.” Jay sipped on the wine.

“Name one song that has the word ‘bunk’ in it?” She giggled again, watching him count
up pretend songs on his fingers.

“At least five that I can count.”

“You’re a liar. There are no songs with ‘bunk’ as a lyric.” She leaned down to rest
her guitar against the balcony railing.

It had to be close to eight o’clock. They had finished a bottle of wine and one song,
but neglected to eat. Haven’s head was spinning, and she knew she needed food fast.

“I’m going to make some pasta. Want some?” She caught herself on the edge of the hammock.
She had tipped a little too far forward.