That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(36)

She shuts the door behind me and nods toward the kitchen. “Let’s dig in.”

I follow her to the back of the house, where the gray cabinets of the kitchen and white quartz countertops go well with the little teal touches of her dish towels and accents. When we went to Walmart together, I didn’t bother hanging out with her while she was running up and down the home aisles, picking out all the things she needed, but when she pulls out two white bowls and silverware, I realize just how much she purchased that night.

I take a seat at the counter-height bar in the kitchen and hand the bag over. While she scoops the ice cream into our bowls, I study her for a brief moment. Her brown hair in waves hanging over her slight shoulders; her face devoid of makeup, revealing a very small trio of freckles on her right cheek. How would it feel to connect them with my finger running gently along her soft skin?

Once she’s done scooping, she hands me a bowl and a spoon and then grabs her own, digging in without pause. She closes her eyes, letting the ice cream melt on her tongue as she groans. When those pools of mossy green connect with me, a curve in her lips forms. “Oh my God, Griffin, this is so good.”

I swallow hard, ice cream still in the bowl.

Watching her eat, watching her reaction . . . it was . . . yeah, it was “so good.”

Trying to shake some clear thoughts into my head, I turn to my bowl and take a big spoonful. She’s right; it is good. Really freaking good.

“Oliver must be a genius, because this ice cream tastes like heaven. Is it like this every Thursday? Does he ever repeat flavors?”

I nod. “He does. He has a bit of a rotation he goes through, especially for people who miss a flavor one week.”

“Well, Oliver is a good man, and so are you.” She sincerely looks at me, a scoop of ice cream resting on her spoon. “Thank you. This was very sweet.”

I shrug it off, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “Consider it a little welcome to Port Snow.”

She smiles over her bowl. “Are you the welcoming committee as well? On top of being in charge of restoration and the camping club, being a volunteer firefighter, and working at the Lobster Landing?”

I chuckle. “Not officially.”

“Ahh, I see.” She rounds the counter and sits on the stool next to me, setting her bowl on the counter. I got a whole pint of ice cream, and she had no shame in splitting it in half, giving us both a hefty serving.

I’m impressed. She doesn’t shy away from food. I like that.

“How do you have time for all of it?”

I keep busy; it’s what helps me not dwell on the past. Always doing something, always moving, always pushing forward. If I don’t, then the past eats me alive; my regrets consume me.

But I can’t say that to her. It would open up the conversation that I don’t have with anyone, not even my family. Or at least I try to avoid it as much as possible.

I swallow some ice cream and lick my lips, enjoying the sweet and salty flavor. “I have a really good calendar on my phone.” I wink and take another bite of my ice cream.

“Calendar, huh?” She chuckles. “So I think we have the ice cream being the best sweet in town—”

“Uh, excuse me?” I playfully whip my head around to face her. “Try that again. What’s your favorite sweet in town again?”

Her eyes widen, her mistake dawning on her pretty face. “I mean fudge. The best sweet in town is fudge from the Lobster Landing.”

I nod in approval. “Very good. Now continue.”

“Close one.” She comically wipes her forehead. “Okay, so we have the sweet down. I need to know where to get the best breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t spare any details. I want to be in the know.”

Her lips curve up, and I can’t help but match her expression. “You want the real stuff?”

She slowly nods, licking some ice cream off her spoon. My eyes trained on her mouth, I stay fixated on her for far too long as I lick my lips, embarrassment taking over when she smiles even wider.

Christ.

Clearing my throat, I turn away and stare down at my bowl, trying to pull it together even though the rapid beat of my heart is throwing me off.

Focus, Griffin.

I swirl my spoon around in my bowl, my gaze turned down. “Breakfast depends. If you’re looking for something fast, the Lobster Landing scones, and I’m not biased; they’re just fucking awesome. But sit-down would be breakfast over at Moose Manor right off Main. It’s a bed-and-breakfast, but they have a large dining area open to everyone. Their berry-granola pancakes with local maple syrup will have you weeping into your napkin.”

“That good?” She chuckles.

“Really fucking good. Light and fluffy with so much flavor. They’re my absolute favorite, and the rest of the Knightly boys agree.”

“Oh, family approval—that’s serious.”

I nod. “It is.” I take another bite of ice cream and turn back toward her, my pulse evening out, my body’s response to being so close to her leveling to normal. “Now, lunch . . . that’s tricky.”

“Oh yeah?” She faces me as well, excitement blazing in her eyes. “Why’s that?”

“Depends on what kind of lunch person you are. Salad, soup, or sandwich.”

She shakes her head. “I want the true, true answer.” She clenches her fist to her chest, passion and humor mixing in her expression. “If you were on death row and had to choose your final meal, your final Port Snow lunch, what would it be?”