One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(59)

Lee was chatting with a woman who was swirling the straw in her drink and looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes.

Duke stomped toward the table and nodded a greeting to Lark. Then he turned and tapped Lee on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Lee scrunched up his face. “What do you mean, ‘Let’s go’? You literally just got here.”

“Tired. Just drive me home.”

Lee looked at me and I only shrugged. Whatever Duke was hoping to find here wasn’t at the bar, and he was done.

Annoyed, Lee excused himself from the conversation he was having and turned to the table. He looked at Duke, who was growing more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. “Fine, but you owe me.”

We said our goodbyes, and Lee held out his fist to Lark. She bumped it and smiled. “Hell of an accomplice,” Lee said.

Her eyes grew wide and darted to me.

“What does he mean? Accomplice?”

Lee howled with laughter and headed straight out the door.

I turned back to Lark. “Accomplice?”

She lifted her hands. “I had no idea, I swear. I was an involuntary criminal.”

Lark looked so innocent and scared that I laughed and pulled her beer bottle toward me. I put it to my lips and took a deep drink. “Sounds like I’m gonna need a beer for this story.”





Being out around town with Lark was effortless. Natural. Just like everything else with her, she brought levity and fun. With her I didn’t have to worry so much about the upcoming season, whether Pickle and I would have to move, or how the drama of Outtatowner was going to inevitably fuck up my life.

She had been content to watch the people dancing, and after a popular song came on, she lifted her brows at me. I pretended to resist, but when she pulled me from my stool, I was happy to hold her in my arms while we moved to the music. I could feel the eyes on us, but I didn’t care if that started a slew of fresh rumors. As far as I was concerned, Lark was mine and I was hers.

At least for now.

After the dance, we left the Grudge to wander down Main Street. It was bustling with tourists and townies alike. The café had string lights illuminating their outdoor patio, and the warm glow bounced off Lark’s skin, making it irresistible. I pulled her under my arm and enjoyed how perfectly she fit as we walked side by side.

“How do you feel about ice cream?” I had already started heading toward the shops that lined the waterfront.

Lark smiled up at me. “I feel good about that.”

We continued our lazy path down the sidewalk and toward the marina. She looked at boats bobbing in the water and asked questions about the people who owned them. A lot were from tourists who parked for the weekend or the season, but I pointed out the ones I did know and filled her in on which side of the Sullivan–King feud they landed. My teeth ground together when we passed a fishing boat with Noble King Fishing Tours freshly painted on the side.

I recognized the sleek lines of the fishing boat my father once owned. Back when he was himself and operations on the farm had run so smoothly he was branching out into other tourism opportunities. The boat, and Dad’s dream of hosting guided fishing tours, had flown out the window when he’d gotten his diagnosis, and things had gone to hell fast. It pissed me right the fuck off to see the King name on Dad’s boat.

Russell King wasn’t a businessman like his father, Amos. He was a scavenger. Even after all our families had been through, he was greedy enough to capitalize on our misfortunes. I hated him for it.

I hated that the Kings had the ability to sour my mood without even being there. I refocused my attention on the gorgeous brunette at my side and how I hoped she was as excited for an evening alone together as I was. The fact that she had inadvertently helped Lee piss them off was the icing on the cake. As childish and reckless as it was, I wished I could have been there to help pull off the prank.

We stepped into Sweet Sundae, the old-fashioned creamery shop, and I motioned for Lark to step ahead of me. Her eyes danced with delight as she scanned the menu.

When it was our turn, Lark smiled at the server. “Cherry chocolate chunk in a waffle cone, please!”

The young girl behind the counter looked up at me. “Rum raisin. Sugar cone, please.”

Lark snorted beside me.

“What?”

“You are such an old man.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Whatever. It’s a classic.”

“I swear if you have a hard candy in your pocket, I’m going to lose it.”

I stared at her as I reached a hand in the front pocket of my jeans. I held my hand in front of her and slowly opened it, revealing a Werther’s Original Penny had asked me to hold on to earlier in the day.

Her laughter settled over me, settling between my ribs, and I moved to stand behind her. My arms wrapped around Lark’s shoulders, and I pulled her close to me as we waited. Her cinnamon-and-citrus scent swirled with the sticky-sweet aroma of the ice cream shop.

Happy memories of getting ice cream with Mom and Dad and walking down the pier flooded my mind. I nuzzled into her neck and felt her hum at my affection.

This will be another good memory to add to that.

The young server handed us our ice cream, and I paid. “Hey, let’s take these to go.”

I led Lark out of the ice cream parlor and toward the beach. Families and kids hanging out near the pier walked past us as we enjoyed the warm summer night. The road ended, and we stepped on the pier. At the end, the old lighthouse stood tall, its beam of light stretching out over the dark waters of Lake Michigan.