All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)(11)

“I’m still waiting to hear back on a couple of internships in local doctors’ offices.”

“Oh, okay cool. No beach patrol for you then this summer?” I was bizarrely disappointed. It was quite fun to be down at the beach when he was lifeguarding. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like we hung out or anything. But knowing him meant I had an excuse to gaze in the general direction of all male lifeguards. Okay, gazing at him. Specifically. Thank God for large, opaque, over-sized shades.

“Probably, not. You should do it though.”

I shrugged. “I’ve probably left it too late.”

“I can put in a good word for you with Lisa, she’s doing the scheduling this year.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I got a job at the new boutique that opened up near the circle last year. Plus I’m working with Resort Housekeeping again this summer on Saturdays. I have to get over there in a little bit and pick up my list of houses.”

“You could do all three. The scheduling for beach patrol is pretty flexible.”

“Maybe. So where did you apply for internships? And isn’t that something that fills up quite far in advance?”

“Yeah, I had an offer lined up in Columbia. But then, well, you know Nana has been getting more frail. I felt I should come back here.”

“And your sister misses you too. It would have been kind of thoughtless not to come back this summer.”

Joey’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally at me, then he blinked as the server suddenly arrived with our food.

My mouth watered as the aroma of a fluffy omelette and a side of crispy bacon invaded the table. I plucked a piece of bacon up and moaned as my mouth closed around it. So good. “Seriously,” I managed between crunching the delicious salty and greasy goodness, “if someone told me that either bacon or chocolate was going to disappear from the earth forever and it was up to me to decide, I think my brain would short circuit.” I looked up and Joey, an amused look on his face, dropped his blue eyes from my mouth to his plate.

“You?” I asked.

“Me what?”

“What would you pick if you had to choose?”

“Hmmm. Easy. Chocolate should disappear.”

I grabbed my chest. “Stop.”

He picked up his bitter, unsweetened coffee. The breeze picked up and blew a dark blond lock across his forehead, causing him to absently run his hand through his hair.

“Oh, you bitter, bitter old man. Don’t you like anything sweet?”

He shrugged with a cheeky grin playing around his lips. “I like sweet girls.”

“Oh God. Don’t even. We are so not going there. Retch.”

“Hey.” He cocked his head back in mock hurt. At least I think it was mock.

“Dude.” I shook my head.

“And I’m not that old.”

“I’m just teasing. Come on, Joseph. Keep your sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor is just fine, thank you.”

“So you have a sweet girl at college? Is that why you wanted to stay there this summer?” As the question came out of my mouth, I felt a sense of dread in my belly. The reminder of how much of our lives were changing, perhaps. School would be over soon.

The Butlers were family to me. To think one day Joey would bring home some girl and we’d all be expected to love her like an additional sister to Keri Ann and me was … uncomfortable. I cleared my throat.

“Nah. I mean, yeah, there have been girls. Sweet girls and … not so sweet girls.” He winked. “But no, I wouldn’t change my plans for a girl.”

“Guess you haven’t met the right one.” My inflection indicated I knew the cliché of that phrase.

He scoffed lightly. “Whatever. No, I thought the internship opportunities were better in Columbia, but my concern for Nana won out.”

I smiled, satisfied with that answer. “So you did in fact change your plans for a girl.”

“You’re right. I guess I did.” He laughed.

“Holy shit.” I grabbed my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my voice recorder. You just told me I was right about something. Will you repeat it?”

He shook his head, smiling at me. It was an unguarded and blinding smile.

I dropped my eyes back to my food. “You have ridiculously perfect teeth, you know that?”

“Ha, thanks? I think?”

“I just haven’t seen you smile much. You should do it more often.”

Joey took the last bite of his omelette and chewed thoughtfully. “So what do you do out there on your dad’s boat?”

Laying my fork carefully back on my plate, I took a last sip of coffee. “I read his letters and postcards. Listen to his records. And sometimes I write to him.” We were certainly having an honest breakfast.

A faint line appeared for a split-second between his eyes. “I knew you got letters from him, I didn’t know you had an address for him.”

“I don’t really. More of a last known address. I’m hoping they still forward his mail. I know for a while they did, since I’d at least get some responses.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since I’ve heard from him? About six months.”

“Is that unusual?”