Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(7)
“No,” I admit, confused. “He didn’t even ask me out. He just said he’d see me around, and left.”
“There you go, not a stalker,” Lottie declares. “And anyway, you said it yourself, you told him all about how amazing this town is. Can you blame him for wanting to check it out?”
“Booking a weekend trip is one thing, but he said he moved here.” I still can’t help feeling off-balance—although whether it’s from the details of Will’s sudden appearance, or how damn good he looked out of that suit and tie, I can’t tell. “Who does that for a girl they don’t even know?”
“He was probably just teasing.” Lottie waves my concerns away. “And anyway, isn’t this a good thing? You said he was the best kiss you’ve ever had, and now the universe just offered him up for a repeat performance. I’d be breaking out the lip balm if I were you.”
I laugh. “We need to get you dating again if your bar is low enough for stalkers and crazies to step over.”
“Hey!” Lottie tosses one of Kit’s tater tots at me. “I have a man in my life already.”
“And he’s a cutie,” I admit, smiling at Kit. “But since his conversation is limited to ‘duckie’ and ‘mama,’ I think we can do better.”
Lottie sticks her tongue out. She’s only twenty, but the girl’s been a nun since Kit was born. I understand wanting to take some time to adjust to motherhood, but having a kid doesn’t mean she should give up on dating altogether. “This isn’t about me,” she says virtuously. “You’re the one whose love life got interesting. Although, it’s always been pretty interesting,” she adds.
I raise my mimosa in a toast. “I do my best.”
We finish up brunch, then head back across the town square, pushing Kit’s stroller. It’s another bright, breezy day, with the sea winds from the harbor keeping the summer heat at bay, ocean glinting clear blue beyond the weathered wooden boardwalk railings. “So what are your plans today?” Lottie asks, yawning. “I’m meeting some moms later for a play-date coffee, if you want to come? I just met them the other week, they’re pretty cool—and young,” she adds. “We pretty much leave the kids in the playroom and just gossip all afternoon.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got an open house,” I reply, already planning my strategy.
“Fresh-cut flowers and cookie dough?” Lottie grins.
“You know it,” I beam. “The old tricks are the best—” I stop, as my gaze catches on a now-familiar figure, sauntering across the square. My pulse kicks. Lottie turns.
“What? Ooh, is that him?”
“Yes, but don’t stare—” It’s too late; Lottie is already waving at Will with a bright smile. He sees us, pauses, then approaches.
“Lottie!” I hiss, flustered. “What are you doing?”
“Finding out if he’s a crazy stalker,” she whispers back. “Don’t ever say I don’t have your back. Hi!” she announces as he reaches us. “You must be Will.”
“William Wyatt Montgomery, at your service, ma’am.” Will puts down a couple of bags from the hardware store and shakes her hand. “Delilah,” he adds in friendly greeting, and I swear my heart stutters a little in my chest. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and well-fitting, worn jeans today, that stubble still giving him a rakish, scruffy air that looks too damn hot.
“I’m Lottie,” she continues beside me, as I drink him in. “And this is Kit.”
“Hey there, little fellow.” Will actually leans down and shakes Kit’s hand too, making him giggle and shriek with delight.
Lottie gives me an approving look. “So, what brings you to Oak Harbor?” she asks innocently, as if we haven’t just spent a half-hour discussing it.
“Well, someone gave me the hard sell, said it was the best place on earth.” Will’s eyes meet mine, twinkling with amusement. “I figured I should check it out for myself.”
“Where are you staying?” Lottie keeps up her interrogation.
“I bought a place out north of town,” Will replies, not at all phased by the fifth degree.
“You bought?” I echo, surprised. “Just like that?”
He smiles back, easy in the dappled sunlight. “Just like that.”
Now I’m really confused.
“So, how are you finding it?” Lottie asks. “It must be a big change after . . . where was it you lived before?”
“New York,” he says, “and, yes, it’s pretty different down here. No takeout delivery at three a.m. But on the plus side, I can cross the street without getting hit by a kamikaze bike messenger, for one.”
“I don’t know about that.” Lottie grins. “Watch out for George Tompkins, he’s pretty lethal on his old bike. Gets up to like, two miles an hour sometimes.”
Will chuckles. “I’ll consider myself warned.”
“Well, it was great to meet you, I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Lottie says brightly. “We have to run, but if you have any questions, just ask Delilah. She knows everything and everyone!”
“Lottie—” I protest, but she’s already kissing me on the cheek.