Summer Rush (2 page)

After feeding my mom her lunch, then eating my own, it’s already time for Trent to get back to work.

“Well, ladies, it’s been a pleasure as always,” he announces, bringing our plates to the kitchen. “Angel, I’ll see you later at the restaurant. Mrs. Taylor, I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place,” he says with a wink before walking to the door.

After kissing him goodbye, I start to get my mom cleaned up for her afternoon nap. While she naps, I hide in my room and read my latest saucy romance novel. Last year, my friend Kelly insisted that I read the
Fifty Shades of Grey
series. Curiosity got the best of me and I started reading it. The next thing I knew, I was locking myself in my room with every extra minute I had, reading all three books in three days. Yes,
three books in three days.
My love for reading started at that moment and it hadn’t stopped since.

Before I know it, my dad returns home from work and I need to get ready to go to the restaurant and start my shift.

“Hey, pretty lady!” Sheila greets me with her strong southern accent.

“Hi, Sheila,” I reply as I make my way to the back to the waitress area.

With summer underway, so is tourist season. We live in a small town one mile north of the South Carolina border named Carolina Shores. Living on the coast, and having some of the most pristine golf courses, means our quiet town becomes a major tourist attraction during school breaks and summer vacation. Although for some locals it can be bothersome, for me it means busier restaurants and more money.

When I approach the employee table Trent is already sitting there, eating his dinner, so I grab a stack of napkins and silverware to roll and sit down across from him. You’d think, being twenty-three years old, he’d cook himself his own dinner, but what guy would when he can eat here for free every night? Even though he plays it off, saying he does it to spend a little time with me, we all know it’s for the free meal.

“Hey, love. I saved some potatoes for you,” he greets me, motioning to them on his plate. Sheila’s potatoes and gravy are the best.

“You really know the way to my heart,” I joke, scooping up a spoonful.

“I do what I can,” he responds with a wink.

“You’ve got two at table one, darlin’!” Sheila yells from the front, notifying me of my first table of the evening.

“And, I’m off.” I stand, wrapping my apron around my waist. Trent stands to kiss me goodbye. “I’ve gotta jet, too. Call me later. Love you.”

“Will do. Love you, too.”

No different than any other night, I start with my elderly regulars. They tell me how sweet I am, order the same thing they always do, finish with coffee, and then are out the door within an hour. Usually, by the time they leave, our busy dinner crowd starts filling in. Since it’s small, during the off season I can manage the whole restaurant by myself. During the tourist season, not so much. Kelly, my friend from high school who goes to the University of Wilmington forty-five minutes away, works here when she’s home on break.

“Hope, you’ve got a four top at table ten!” Sheila yells from the front.

“And, oh my, are they hot,” Kelly whispers over my shoulder while at the soda machine, filling drink orders.

“Huh?” I ask, not knowing what she’s talking about.

“Um, table ten? It’s stacked with gorgeous guys,” she explains, nodding in their direction.

Peeking over the glass divider, I take a look at the gorgeous guys she’s referring to. Yeah, they’re good looking, but not my type; Italian and way to perfect looking.

“Eh,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Oh, come on. You may have a boyfriend, but you’re not dead. Those guys are hot as hell.”

“They probably spend more time on their hair than you,” I respond matter-of-factly.

Kelly is one of those drop dead gorgeous girls; however, she’s also one of those girls who spend hours every day perfecting her hair and make-up.

“Well, if that’s the outcome, then I’m okay with it,” she replies, almost drooling over them.

“You’re ridiculous. I’ve gotta get to work,” I respond, rolling my eyes.

“Make sure you tell them I said hello!” Kelly shouts as I walk away.

Raising my hand in acknowledgment, and shaking my head while smiling at her flamboyance, I make my way to the table of guys.

“Hi, y’all. I’m Hope, I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” I hand the four guys their menus. “Can I get you some drinks to start with?”

As I take their order, my eye catches on the one at the far end of the table. All too perfect looking with his meticulously spiked hair, faded blue jeans frayed at the knees,
that I’m sure he bought that way
, and wearing a polo shirt with one of those alligators on it and popped at the collar. He’s everything I don’t like in a guy, which is why it’s driving me mad that I can’t take my eyes off of him.

As he gives me his drink order, everything seems to go in slow motion and I can’t help but focus on the movement of his mouth, his adorable dimples that appear next his perfect lips, and the way his big brown eyes twinkle as he talks; he’s absolutely mesmerizing.

“Um, are you okay?” he laughs, interrupting the daze I’m in.

“Uh, yeah…I’m fine.” I blink hard, swallowing the saliva that’s pooled in my mouth.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? It’s, uh…it’s, uh, a little loud in here,” I say, embarrassingly fumbling for words.

Yeah, it does get pretty loud in here once the restaurant gets filled up with its dinner rush, but there’s no denying my obvious drooling stare down. The smug smile on his face confirms that not only did he notice my moment of weakness, he sucked it into his already monstrous ego.

“Not a problem–happens,” he laughs with a cocky grin, looking me over like I’m a piece of meat.

Feeling my heart rate increase, and the sweat building on my face and underarms, I know I need to get far away from this table and Mister I Love Myself.

Making sure I give him a less than enthused smile, I ask, “Anyway, what’d you say you’d like?”

Without removing that smug grin, he responds, “Corona with lime. I like a little sweetness with my beer…please.”

Ugh, this guy is unreal
. Do girls really fall for this obnoxious crap? Are guys like him capable of loving someone more than themselves, because I find it doubtful that he’d be able to.

Giving him a fake smile, I run to the beverage counter to escape this ridiculously uncomfortable situation.

“Woah, what’s got your panties in a bunch?” Kelly asks when I almost crash into her as I turn the corner.

“Nothing, those guys are just obnoxious!” I spat, still shaken up by how much he got under my skin.

“So, which one is he?” she asks all intrigued.

“What’re you talking about? They’re all obnoxious.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Hope. Which one is making you all hot and bothered?” she continues, nudging my shoulder like it’s going to help get it out of me faster.

I respond like she has ten heads. “Have you lost your mind? There’s no way
any
of those guys would get me hot and bothered.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Kelly whispers near my ear after lifting her tray of drinks, and walks past me with a grin.

Hot and bothered–yeah right!

Resting my hands on the counter, I close my eyes for a minute to try and pull myself back together. My blood is boiling right now, furious with the way this guy makes me feel. Then to fuel the fire even more, he eats it up like I’m just another one of his drooling groupies. Totally used to the attention.
Barf!

“Excuse me, Hope?” An already all too familiar sexy, yet smooth voice interrupts.

Jumping not only from being startled, but also from the chill that runs down my spine, I see the guy that is sure to haunt my dreams.

Forcing a smile, I respond, “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you could make that two Coronas?” he asks, holding up two fingers.

With a devilish grin and a wink, he continues, “It’s getting a little warm in here, don’tcha think?”

Acting as unaffected as possible and ignoring my heart that’s beating out of my chest, I respond, “Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks. You’ve got beautiful eyes, by the way,” he flirts, taking a step closer to me like he needs to take a closer look.

My body goes limp inhaling his mouth watering scent, and the way his breath tickles my face makes my body bubble with goosebumps. There’s an undeniable urge to lean forward and press my lips against his; his lips have the perfect amount of plumpness to them that would provide the perfect amount of cushion against mine.

Boyfriend! I have a boyfriend.

Snapping myself out of his spell,
again
, I respond, “Thanks, I’ll add the Corona to your order,” then turn to gather their drinks and get the hell away from him.

Waking up this morning, I’m completely exhausted. I tossed and turned all night. I can’t get the picture of that guy from the restaurant out of my head. He’s consuming my every thought, and invading my dreams. His perfect skin, lips, face, scent, smile; it’s all haunting me with no intention of leaving me alone. He’s like a drug that I can’t stop thinking about. This is insane, and unbearable.

Although the sun is at least an hour before rising, I decide to get out of bed and head to the beach early–there’s no chance I’m falling back to sleep at this point. Pulling my hair up into a ponytail and throwing my bikini on, I quickly brush my teeth then grab my keys.

Fortunately, since it’s so early there is not a soul at the beach and I have the whole ocean to myself, other than the big shrimp boats pulling in their catch. After putting on my wetsuit and grabbing my board out of the bed of my truck I proceed to the water, taking a minute to breathe in the crisp ocean scent that brings me the peace and tranquility that I’m seeking.

Lying on my board, I try to allow my body to relax; however the image of an incredibly good looking Italian guy keeps creeping into my mind. Hitting my head on my surf board out of frustration, I notice it’s no use–I can’t get that damn boy out of my brain.

Why is this happening?
I’ve got a very sweet boyfriend that I love dearly, that loves me back even more.

It’s just a crush.
It’s nothing more than a crush.

Shaking my head again to clear my thoughts, I see a wave approaching. Turning around, I start paddling away from it. Just as I start to feel the wave push up on the back of my board, I jump up and plant my feet. The rush of adrenaline temporarily clears my mind, allowing me to escape into the thrill of the wave until it breaks and fades into the shore.

Coming up from under the water, I feel satisfied, and free. Ready for some more, I swim back out in search of the next wave to help peel off another layer of Italian frustration.

By the end of my surfing session my mind is at ease and back to where it should be, with Trent. Peeling of my wetsuit, and throwing my board in the back, I make my way back home, this time with a smile and stress free.