That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(22)

“Because I’m not interested in starting or being in a relationship. I’m happy with how my life is right now, and I don’t need anything complicating it.”

“But she has heart eyes for you,” Brig says like a jackass.

“Don’t worry; there are plenty of Knightly brothers to choose from,” I reply.

“Come on, Griff. How fun can going home to an empty, lonely house really be?” Jen chimes in, concern evident in her voice.

I shift on my feet, my voice terse. “I like my house. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Silence falls between us, an awkward air advancing in like a fast-moving cold front.

“Is this because of New Orleans?” Reid finally asks, taking a seat next to Brig. Both of my brothers fix their gazes on me, waiting for an answer.

Why is this a fucking thing whenever we talk about my love life? Can’t they just let it go? What happened was . . . hell, I don’t even know how to describe it. All I know is I don’t foresee love in my future.

Claire was the love of my life, and I lost her; in a blink of an eye she was gone. I’m not going through that again. Not ever.

Shaking my head, I turn away from my family. This conversation is over.

And with that, I take the cash to the back office, where I can get some peace and quiet.

Ask Ren Winters out on a date? Not going to happen.

And she’s not going to drive my truck either. I think that’s evident in the fact that she drove her car in between two trees.

Can’t blame a guy there.



Leaning back on my palms, I let my fingers sink into the cold sand as my legs stretch out in front of me, the salty ocean air filling my lungs with memories of my childhood.

All the football games we held out on the beach, tackling each other until it was too dark to see anything. The summers we spent trying to boogie board over the waves but failing—none of us had any skills when it came to water sports. The picnics we’d have as a family after long days in the shop, sharing bars of fudge and picking our favorites out of the new flavors Dad had created that week.

So many memories were made on this sand, some that have faded and some that have stuck to me like glue, shaping me into the man I am today.

The sun starts its descent toward the crest of the water, the waves lapping against the slate rocks to the left, their dark features replicating the deep color of the sand.

“Hey there.”

Her voice is distinct: sweet and small, but there’s power behind it.

I turn to see Ren walking toward me in a pair of yoga pants and a light-pink long-sleeved T-shirt. She eyes the spot next to me. “Mind if I join you?” She holds up a little bag I didn’t notice at first. “I brought the whoopie pie.”

Hell if I can resist one of those. It’s a signature Maine pastry that’s been recreated too many times in bakeries across the state, turned into a cheap knockoff, but not at the Lobster Landing. We’ve stuck to the traditional chocolate-cake cookies and creamy vanilla center. Why change something up when it’s one of the major delicacies tourists from around the country come to try?

“Bribing me with a whoopie pie? You really know how to break me, don’t you?”

“Not bribing.” She shifts on her feet, toeing the sand, looking shier than I expected. “Just offering you a little goody in exchange for some company.”

Hell, how can I refuse that?

I pat the sand next to me. “That’s an even trade.”

At her bright smile, the realization hits me harder than I could have expected: she actually enjoys my company, and hell, I enjoy hers as well.

She sits right next to me, our shoulders almost touching, and instead of stretching out her legs like me, she keeps them crossed in front of her as she pulls out the whoopie pie. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a taste, and right about now, my mouth is watering to the point that I’m afraid I might drool.

“Do you mind if I give you half? It’s huge, and I don’t think I could eat it all by myself.”

“I would love to eat the other half of your whoopie pie,” I answer, eyeing the damn thing like it’s the last one on earth.

She splits the chocolate, cakelike cookie with light cream filling down the middle and hands me a half. “That was easier than I expected.” She takes a bite, and I watch as she slowly closes her eyes, letting the flavors sit on her tongue. “Oh wow. Oh wow, that’s really good.” She springs her eyes open. “How can you serve these to people all day long and not take a bite out of each one?”

“Besides the fact that customers would get mad if we started nibbling on their baked goods, you learn pretty quickly not to eat everything, or else you’re staring down a pastry-filled gut and scone-size love handles.”

She holds the whoopie pie out in front of her and turns her head toward me. “Sooo . . . what you’re telling me is that these treats aren’t sugar-free, fat-free, dairy-free?”

“Not even a little.”

“Well, damn.” She chuckles and takes another bite, moaning.

The sound stirs something inside me I haven’t felt in a long time. Longing? Yearning? The need for a woman? Thoughts about my love life began to confuse me the moment Ren sat down.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she says, before I can pinpoint exactly what the feeling is. “When I was thinking about taking the job, I did a lot of research on the town and looked at all the pictures I could find. Let me tell you, the internet does not even come close to the real thing. I’ve been here a full one and a half days, and I’m already in love with this town: the atmosphere, the people, the shops, the old, judgy elders who stand outside of the general store.”