That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(47)

Rylee pours dirt into the flower bed to fill in any holes. “It’s not my fault none of them see how genius my match was.”

Turning serious and lowering her voice, Ruth asks, “Do you have a thing for Griffin?”

“What?” I shout-whisper, looking over my shoulder to make sure none of the guys are paying attention. They’re all weeding, minding their own business, the waves crashing into the rocks hopefully drowning out Ruth’s question. “Why would you think that?”

“Probably because you both get this cheesy smile whenever you’re around each other.”

Do I get a cheesy smile on my face? God, I wouldn’t even know at this point; I can barely focus when he’s around.

“I think I just smile because it’s good to see someone I know. Does that make sense?”

“Wow, you’re a horrible liar.” Rylee really holds nothing back, does she? “Just be honest with us. Do you like him?”

Before I can answer, Griffin calls over to us. “Hey, I don’t see much work going on over there, ladies. We’re going to sit and rest when we’re done weeding and wait until you’re done to start the picnic tables. So unless you want to be out here forever, I suggest you stop gossiping.”

In my entire life, this is the first time I’ve ever been reprimanded for talking when I shouldn’t—now I know how my students feel when I catch them. I hastily finish up with the first flower bed and move on to the next, away from Ruth and Rylee and their probing questions.



“How different are the beaches here compared to California?” Brig asks, his head tilted to the side, the sun starting to crest past the ocean, casting an orange glow all around us.

After we finished the flower beds, I was paired with Brig to touch up the picnic tables with paint while Jake and Beck clean the food truck and Griffin and the girls tackle their own tables. It’s amazing how much we can accomplish in such a short amount of time. I’m really impressed with everyone’s hard work. It’s heartwarming.

I consider Brig’s question, realizing my life in LA already seems like it happened a long time ago. “Well, the beaches in California are warmer. They also are mainly sand with some beach grass sticking up. But here in Maine, the rocks, gosh—I’ve never seen erosion like this. The rocks are so old, but beautifully shaved down by the constant push and pull of the waves. In California, the beaches are just sand; at least, in Southern California they’re just sand.”

Thoughtfully, Brig takes in my answer. Griffin was so right—he might have a tough exterior, but he’s a huge softy on the inside and really chatty. “If you had to choose only one beach for the rest of your life, which would it be? What kind of beach do you see yourself sunbathing on, preferably in a little red one-piece? Do you have one of those?”

I dramatically roll my eyes. He’s also a giant flirt. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a red one-piece.” It’s a two-piece, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay; your politeness makes up for it.” Brig clears his throat. “I’ve always wanted to go to California. I really want to go to Napa Valley and get drunk off my ass from all the wine and then watch the sun set over the vineyards.”

I study Brig, holding my paintbrush still for a few beats. “I think you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who wants to get drunk in Napa Valley.”

“Oh, that’s not a common desire among men?”

What man talks like that? “Not any man I’ve come across.”

“Well, I’m a different breed.” He winks and then turns toward the others, watching their progress for a few seconds. “Have you been able to make some friends? Moving to a new town can’t be easy.”

“You know, I was nervous at first; moving to a new place is always nerve racking, but I think the moose darting in front of my car was a blessing in disguise.”

“It did a number on your car.”

I chuckle. “I know, but I have to look past that. If it wasn’t for the moose, then I would never have veered off into the ditch, and then I would never have become friends with Griffin. He’s been so nice, introducing me to everyone. It’s almost like because I’m friends with him, everyone is friends with me.”

“We do have that effect on people.” Brig smooths down his hair. He’s ridiculous. “If you’re in with a Knightly, you’re in with everyone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” He makes a long stroke across the picnic table with his pink-coated paintbrush. I’m not sure if he’s even covering any marks up, but he’s been too chatty to notice the job he’s doing. “If you want to meet some more people, I’m hosting a cheese-and-wine tasting at the garage tomorrow night.”

I pause and peer at him, a furrow in my brow. I shouldn’t be surprised, but . . . “You have cheese-and-wine tasting at an auto shop?”

He chuckles. “I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Behind the garage, we have a huge backyard where we hold events occasionally. I get together with the local cheese farmer and vineyard and put together a small event for the locals. I decorate the yard with some of my favorite Ford Mustangs, play music, and offer up samplings to those who come. It’s fancy as shit and fun. You should come.”