Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) (10 page)

Yea, there’s hope for Raphael Cruz yet.

***

I need to get laid. It’s been over a week.
This job is a killer when it wants to be. All this overtime is
worth the cash, but I feel so bad for poor Morty. He hasn’t gotten
enough exercise. I need to change this and fast. Tonight I’m off,
and we are all going out, so I’ll hold out hope.

It’s hard to believe that it’s almost 4th of
July. The last few weeks have been great since my neighbor and I
have been getting along.

Harlow’s not so bad. She’s thawed a bit,
snickers at my inappropriate jokes, acknowledges my existence, and
actually has conversations with me. She’s still using the ‘big
words’ now and again, but I give her a look, and she gives me one
of her infamous eye rolls, and a knowing look to turn it down a
notch. We hang out at the house, having drinks on the dock with the
rest of the crew. As everyone swims, she sits with her toes
touching the water, just a little. Maybe I should give her a few
swim lessons. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.

I found out she’s not really a snot either. Her
parents, Joe and Annabeth, have money, and she explained to us one
night when we were all sitting around how her mother was some sort
of a hippie. Harlow’s mom worked for social services, grew her own
vegetables and shit like that. Her dad, on the other hand, came
from money, old money, and lots of it. He’s a lawyer. Had to do the
whole ‘follow in daddy’s footsteps’ type thing. They met when her
mom was a social worker tending to a case her father was part of.
She said he was a free spirit like her mom. Telling us about them
being soulmates and shit like that. One pussy for the rest of your
life. Yea, that’s a no-no.

Harlow’s grandparents hated the fact that their
son was going to marry a commoner or whatever, and they had a set
of conditions, which her mom made her father abide by because she
didn’t want any trouble, or lose him.

The conditions? Send them to private schools,
make them go to charm school, and be raised with class. That’s so
different than the way I was brought up. My crack-head mother’s
idea of class was sitting at the dinner table, (when we actually
ate dinner) with a shirt on.

My mom, not us.

So Harlow grew up having an after school job at
a diner and paying for things on her own. It sounds like just being
raised to work for things you need, not things you want.

Good motto.

I want to save as much as I want to spend, but I
need to live on my own. I can’t live with my brother Antonio and
his wife, Bella, anymore. There’s a spawn on the way for them, and
there isn’t enough room for me. If I don’t save, I’ll be forced
back to the old neighborhood with the crack-head, and that’s not an
option.

Max and I talked about getting a place, but
he’ll be traveling a lot with the band this coming year as well as
finishing up engineering school. Porter is going up to Boston this
winter to get his Masters.

So it’s just me. But that’s okay. I’m sort of
used to it.

I like mornings on the dock when I don’t have to
take a nap as soon as I get home from my shift. This morning, I
take my coffee outside, go sit in one of the Adirondack chairs,
watch the boats go by and wave to the people on them. I walk down
and see Harlow on the phone. I don’t want to listen in, but she
knows this is what I like to do in the mornings, and I’m not
budging, so I can’t help it if I do hear her conversation.

“Yes, Greta. I know, Greta. Relax. It will…
Greta, it’s not a big deal. No, no I’m not saying that it’s not a
big deal, of course it is.”

She rolls her eyes, points to the phone and
brings her hand up to her throat like she’s choking herself. I
laugh because I know she’s on the phone with her crazy sister about
her wedding.

She motions for me to give her a sip of my
coffee. She must be out. I hand it over to her. We take it the same
way. So much sugar that the spoon stands straight up in the
mug.

She takes a sip and closes her eyes, like it’s
the first time she’s ever tasted it. I laugh.

“Ok, well Craw is coming for the 4th, so I’ll
give him what you need. No, Greta. I didn’t… ok, ok, fine. I’ll
speak with you next week. No worries. Ok, I love you, too. Bye for
now.”

Bye for now? She’s so formal sometimes. But
Greta is not like her. From what Harlow tells me, she’s like her
grandparents where Harlow is like her mom.

She throws the phone on her chair and lets out a
growl.

“More wedding planning fiascos with your
sister?”

She drinks the rest of my coffee like she’s
doing a shot of Jack Daniels. She hands me the empty cup. I turn it
upside down to see the slightest little drop fall on the wooden
planks.

“How’d you guess?” She smiles.

“Well, over the past few weeks you get this look
about you when you’re speaking to your sister. You chew on your
already chewed down nails so they bleed.”

She’s doing it now. She pulls them out of her
mouth as soon as I say it.

“Oh, well thanks for noticing.”

She plops on her chair, exhausted, and her body
acts like it has run a marathon.

“So what’s the deal?”

“You really want to hear this?”

Not really, but I’ll let her talk.

“Sure, shoot.” God, I wish she didn’t drink all
my coffee.

“Well Greta doesn’t like the fonts I sent her
for her invitations. I found them on a website, and I picked
several out for her to try. She hated them and wants me to search
for new ones.”

“Can’t she look on her own? Why’s that your
responsibility?”

“Because she’s too busy with other things.”

I straighten up in my chair, lean over the arm
rest and look at her confused.

“Wait, didn’t you tell me she doesn’t work, that
her fiancé said it wasn’t necessary? So why doesn’t she have
time?”

“Because she’s extremely busy with her wedding
planner. What’s the word you say when I appear to be clueless about
something… duh, is it?”

Smartass.

“Fine. I get it, she’s nothing like you. She’s
the one who never got out of that bratty rich kid routine no matter
how hard your parents tried to sway her away from it.”

Harlow winks and points at me. “Ding, ding.
Correct answer, sir.”

“So you’re stuck with the dirty work. Too bad.
You need to stand up for yourself, Turnip.”

She stands up and sits on the dock, toes inching
towards the water.

“I’m working on it. I told her I’d give the
samples to my brother when he comes next week. I’m not jumping on
it immediately.”

I get up and go to sit next to her. I land my
feet in the water with a small splash that reaches her.

“Oops, sorry.”

“Caveman,” she mutters.

“So beach volleyball game today? Guys versus
girls?”

She doesn’t answer. She’s focused on the
water.

She sticks her big toe in, pulling it out
immediately. Her fear is crazy to me. I take her foot and try to
ease it into the water, very carefully. She flinches, not fully
understanding what I’m trying to do. She tenses under my hand,
pulls back, and gives me a look of warning.

“It’s just water. Put the rest of your toes in,
not the whole foot, it’s not going to bite you, neither will I
unless you ask.” I wink at her knowing that when I talk like that
it gets her in a tizzy.

She creases her brow, smacks my arm and her
expression’s not anger, just worry.

I grab the instep of her foot and slowly ease it
in, a bit at a time until all her toes are submerged. She looks at
me, trusting me, but with caution, great caution. She doesn’t fully
trust me yet, and that’s ok. We’re working on it. It’s not going to
be cotton candy and clowns right from the start, but we’ll get
there.

“That’s it, it feels good, right? Now just a
little more.”

I lower her foot a bit until the top and all of
her toes are under. I can feel her relax, the tension starting to
dissipate.

“Good, Turnip. Now just lower it a bit more,
like you’re getting into a bath. She does what I suggest, and
struggles, but does it.

“See, not so bad, now try the other one.”

Harlow pulls her foot from under her and
painstakingly dips the toes of her foot in, like the other. I have
to encourage her, bit by bit. She tenses up again, and I don’t feel
bad. She has to try to conquer this fear a little at a time. Her
foot eases into the water. Her eyes, tightly shut, but she does it.
Her body is stiff as a board, but she does it.

She leans back a bit, still with her eyes shut.
Once her foot is all the way in, she peeks one eye open, looks to
me, and I give her an encouraging smile.

“You did it,” I whisper.

She grins back at me, and she’s pleased with
herself.

“Now move your feet around. Just a little to get
a feel of the water.”

Slowly, she does it, just an inch or two, and I
can tell it’s still hard for her.

Her eyes aren’t focused on the water, there’s
still fear there. However, she looks to me when she sways her feet
back and forth, letting the water surround them.

“Thanks,” she says quietly and without glancing
my way.

Ok, tender moment over. Back to being me.

I stand up, and she does the same,
carefully.

“Well, I’m outta here. Gotta go surf the
internet for porn.”

She groans, and it’s glorious.

“Ugh, just when I think you’re actually
attempting to be a human being, you go and screw it up with your
mouth. You. Are. Gross.”

I have to laugh, ‘cause she still doesn’t get
me. I wonder if she can hear me banging my random muff when I bring
one home?

I should ask her.

Nevermind. I’m trying to be a grown up.

“So why do you say I’m gross? You didn’t think I
was gross about a year ago. I just so happen to have a large sexual
appetite, and if I just so happen to bring home a little company to
help satisfy it, then so be it. I’m twenty four, not forty
four.”

“Do you have to remind me that I fed into that
sexual appetite? I would rather you not.”

Aw, that makes me sad. I gave it to her good if
I remember correctly. It was certainly memorable to me. May I
remind you how many times Morty stood at attention and found his
happy place with that memory?

I place my hand over my heart and act like it’s
breaking. I turn my mouth into a frown.

“You hurt my feelings, Turnip. I thought it was
something you’d never forget.”

Cue eye roll…

There it is!

“Don’t flatter yourself, you incorrigible
ass.”

I shake my finger at her.

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Hannum. Using big words again.
What’s a guy going to think when he tries to pick you up and you go
all smart on him. He may not understand what you’re saying.”

She starts to walk away from me. I see the hard
line her mouth was in before she turned. I yell out to her as I
watch her stomp up the dock to the house. I laugh. She hates
me.

“Where ya going?”

She doesn’t turn around fully, but she yells to
me over her shoulder.

“You are impossible.”

Oh, my how I love to get this chick all riled
up. It gives me great satisfaction. But I only try to kid with her.
She needs a sense of humor.

Poor girl.

Her stomping away is like an open invitation to
apologize.

This grown up things sucks the life right out of
my balls.

So, after I apologize for the umpteenth time,
she forgave me, and now we are all at the beach, soaking up the
rays, and playing a mean game of volleyball. I hate to admit this,
because I am in no way, shape or form a fucking pussy, but the
girls are actually good. We finish the last game (we won, by the
way), and I’m in need of some sort of refreshment in the style of
one with hops and barley. I motion for Porter to hand me a beer
from the cooler he’s sitting on, but he is involved in some sort of
deep conversation with Thea. Maybe he’s trying to dazzle her with
his vast knowledge of draft beers. Who knows? Don’t care.

“Porter, man, get your ass off the cooler and
grab me a beer, pronto. I worked up a sweat kicking the girls’
asses right out of their bikini bottoms.”

He grabs me a beer, I flip off the cap and take
a long sip.

“Do you have to be such a douche all the time,
or is it just when you haven’t gotten any in a few days?” Willow
blatantly calls out from under her oversized sunglasses.

“Why is my sex life any concern of yours? Maybe
you should try to get one.”

Several noises I’m not sure of come from her
mouth. Pauses, sighs, and then a few others.

“I am perfectly content with my sex life.”

“Or lack thereof,” Thea mutters to her not as
quietly as I think Willow would have liked.