Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe by Abbie Williams Page B

person, other than Gran, who would have dared to ask her such a thing.
    She considered for a moment in silence. “Shit, Chris wanted at least six kids. He always hated being an only child. Imagine now how great it would be if Clint had some cousins on the Henriksen side.”
    â€œChris’s mom is still alive, right?”
    â€œYeah, but she’s not in great shape. They had Chris when they were in their late forties.”
    â€œI remember that they were pretty old. I guess not everyone begins bearing children in their teenage years, like our family,” I joked, only sounding a little bitter. It’s not as though Jilly or I had conceived without help, after all. 
    â€œRight,” Jilly laughed. “But hey, our kids have turned out all right. The girls seem totally happy to be here. I love hearing them chatting with Ellen and Mom in the mornings. And Tisha is a great help to Rich, you know.”
    â€œI know, he was telling me that last night actually. She ties on a bandana just like— ” and for only a fraction of a second did I pause over his name, “Blythe, and then gets right to work.”
    Jilly giggled. “We’re going to get cited for child labor.” And then, her gaze lifting over my shoulder, she murmured, “Speaking of the devil.”
    â€œHuh?” I asked, but my internal radar began humming and as I turned on the bar stool, towards the front door, I knew who was coming into Eddie’s.
    He grinned to see us, and my heart began slap-chopping my ribcage. I swallowed once, unable for a moment to tear my gaze away from him; because I was closest to the door, he claimed the open spot beside me, his eyes never moving from mine as he sat, with easy masculine grace.
    His hair was tied back, though he was not wearing his customary bandana—the first I’d seen him that way. He had a high forehead, edged by his slightly wavy hair, which was a honey-brown.  His eyebrows, by contrast, were thick and shades darker, as were his enviable long lashes.  I had never been so close to him before, as the bar stool beside mine put our faces about eighteen inches apart, and my breath was tight, my nipples very much at attention. His eyes were dark blue, with flecks of gray throughout his irises, giving them a smoky appearance. His jaw was strong, his lips sensual, the lower just slightly fuller than the upper.  I observed all this quickly, before forcing myself to turn away, though it seemed to me that a space heater had taken up residence against my left side; I was burning up with him so close. 
    â€œHi, Bly,” Jilly said comfortably; I’d almost forgotten my sister was there.
    â€œHi, you two,” he returned. “So, you don’t come out when I ask, huh? Am I interrupting a ladies’ night?”
    â€œNah, we just needed to get out of the café for a while,” Jilly said, doing all of the conversing while I sat, tongue-tied and overwhelmed by the fact that Blythe was so near that if I shifted my left knee just a few inches, it would come into contact with his right one.
    â€œI was driving home and saw the golf cart out front, thought I’d say hey,” Blythe explained, leaning both forearms against the bar. The position made his biceps and wide shoulders appear even more powerful. Eddie waved hello, and moved as though to get him a drink, but Blythe called, “I got it, Ed,” and so saying, rose and leaned forward over the bar, helping himself to a can of soda. He sat back, comfortably, and cracked the top on the can, his eyes skimming again to mine. “You guys managed to steal the cart from Clint, huh?”
    â€œYeah, he left it unguarded for a second, and we nabbed it,” Jillian said, her voice teasing.
    â€œYou two planning on getting wasted, or what?” Blythe joked back.
    â€œTempting,” I said, finally speaking up. “But no, we were just too lazy to walk.”
    Blythe turned