Safe Harbor (Scoops Series Book 1), page 9
But her expression must have done enough damage, because next thing she knew he was reaching into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a twenty. “Grab yourself something from the café anyway.”
“Dad, it’s okay, I have tip money,” she said, refusing to take it.
He pressed the bill into her hand. “I know you do, but let me treat you, please?”
Melanie sighed, holding onto the bill as she watched her parents exit the cottage, large travel tumblers full of steaming coffee in tow.
“Shouldn’t take me long,” Kevin said to Melanie. He already had half the tire peeled off her bike wheel. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Wow, great, thanks,” Melanie answered. She took a few steps around Port Wheels, looking at the bikes lined up next to each other, like plates stacked neatly in a dishwasher. Another parallel row of bikes was perched up on the ceiling. There must have been at least a hundred bikes in the tiny shop, maybe more.
“So, how do you know Calvin?” Kevin called out from the back.
Melanie felt her cheeks flush. “Um, we work together.”
“Ah, the late-night text makes sense now,” Kevin responded. “Work the night shift?”
“Yeah, found my flat tire after.”
“Bummer. How do you like working there?”
“Cool, I guess. This was my first week.”
“Damn, lucky you,” Kevin said. “Everyone wants that job.”
“Really?” Melanie walked back to Kevin, shocked that he was almost done with her bike as he finished pressing a brand new tire into her wheel.
“Yeah, the most coveted job in the Port,” he said. “Are the tips really that good?”
Melanie smiled, nodding her head.
Kevin whistled. “Must be nice. And Jess…she giving you a hard time?”
“Jess?” Melanie asked. “How can she give me a hard time? She hardly talks.”
Kevin smiled to himself as he finished up pressing in the tire as if the thought of Jess amused him. “That means she likes you. And if you got that job, Calvin must really like you, too.”
Melanie frowned. “I don’t think Calvin had anything to do with it. Ron called me.”
Kevin pumped some air into her new tire before wheeling it over to Melanie. “Nah, that place wouldn’t run without him. Even if Ron called, it was probably orchestrated by Calvin.”
Melanie stood there for a beat, her thoughts wandering. Ron said that her application was on the top of the pile, which was why he called her. But was it a pile that Calvin had put together? Did he make sure she was at the top?
And if so, why would he do that when he clearly didn’t want her to have the job?
Or maybe he did, Melanie thought. Maybe he…
“You good?” Kevin asked.
Melanie shook her head. “Yeah, sorry, how much?”
“Ten.”
Melanie balked. “What, seriously, that’s it?”
Kevin smiled. “Consider it a family discount. Calvin’s a good buddy.”
“Wow, okay, thanks,” she said, reaching for the money in her back pocket. She stared at the twenty from her Dad for a moment, then handed it to Kevin.
“Hold on, let me get change,” Kevin said, turning toward his desk.
“No, keep it,” Melanie said, grabbing her bike and wheeling it toward the door.
“For real?!” Kevin said, looking at her like she was an angel sent from above.
Melanie smiled. “Consider it a Scoops-level tip.”
Melanie sat on the outdoor patio of Seabreeze Café with a Sandy Cove latte and their last warm slice of blueberry coffee cake, which she was miraculously able to snag. Seabreeze had a latte named after every neighborhood in town. Sandy Cove was a toasted hazelnut latte with caramel drizzle, which, embarrassing as it was, made Melanie moan after her first sip. She was on her phone looking at Haverport High’s website, scrolling through the list of classes they offered, mentally trying to prepare for what she would sign up for in the fall. The school did offer a few AP classes, but all ones she’d taken before—English, U.S. History, Latin, Chem. She noticed the school offered other AP-level courses through a nearby community college and was about to take a look through her options when a familiar head with a buzz-cut breezed past her.
Melanie tipped her baseball cap low hoping Calvin wouldn’t recognize her as he walked past, his arms looped with a woman Melanie presumed to be his grandmother. He held open the door for her as she shuffled inside. She wore a button-down white cardigan, her tiny feet pressed into a classic pair of loafers, and her head covered with the poofiest set of gray curls. But it was Calvin’s outfit that had Melanie’s gaze lingering. A white button-down shirt and a pair of black slacks, perfectly fitted around his waist and falling down neatly to his ankles, and a shiny pair of white leather sneakers on his feet.
Melanie couldn’t help but stare at him through the glass door, watching the way he looked as he moved around the café. He grabbed a tray of coffee and sandwiches before holding the door open again for his grandmother and following her to a picnic table on the patio.
She wondered if she should make a run for it. She was in no mood to see him right now, especially in a grubby T-shirt and an old pair of jean shorts, her hair unwashed and still greasy from the night before.
Calvin was holding out a seat for his grandmother as Melanie snatched her latte and stood up, quickly making a break for it.
“You can’t leave a half-eaten slice of blueberry coffee cake, that’s sacrilege.”
Melanie turned to face a smirking Calvin heading toward her. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a patch of smooth tan skin, a silver chain peeking out from underneath.
Melanie felt her throat go dry. She swallowed. “You finish it then.”
“Already put it on my table,” Calvin responded. “Did you get your bike fixed?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he was nice. Gave me a discount.”
“Sounds like Kevin,” he said. “I told him if he keeps doing that he will definitely go out of business.”
Melanie crossed her arms. “Do you, like, know everyone in town?”
He smirked again. “Sort of.”
Melanie’s heart fluttered at the sight of that smirk. God, why was she being like this? Every time she tried pushing away those feelings, they automatically came back to her…sometimes even stronger than before. Like a scoop of ice cream that kept getting bigger and bigger.
“And everything all right at home?” he asked, his voice quiet and serious.
“Oh, yeah, all good,” Melanie said tightly. She fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the door. “See you tomorrow?”
Calvin’s face was still full of concern when she hopped into the front seat of her car. “Uh, yeah, second night shift,” he said. “You ready for it?”
Melanie thought about the chaos of last night’s shift, how it took her mind off everything else, how she was able to easily crash when she got home and sleep soundly.
“Oh yeah. More than ready.”
Melanie walked into Scoops the next night to the sound of sniggering in The War Room. Jay and Rory were standing by the walk-in fridge, failing to look casual as she signed in for her shift. “What’s going on?”
“MELANIE! Is that you?”
It was Blake. But the sound of his voice was coming from inside the walk-in.
She stepped toward them, looking suspiciously at Jay and Rory. The two of them couldn’t seem to hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.
“Blake?” Melanie asked.
“Melanie, please help me! They locked me in here!”
She scowled at them. “Why would you do that?”
“Tradition,” Rory said, trying and failing to hold in her fits of giggles.
“Seriously? That seems cruel.”
“It is cruel, now get me OUT!” Blake yelled, his voice cracking. It sounded like he was starting to cry.
The two of them burst out laughing again as Melanie frowned, stepping closer to the door. “Blake, there is a small button underneath the door handle, can you feel for it?”
Melanie heard fumbling on the other side, then the sound of a pulsing button.
“Yes, but it’s not working!” He was panicking, and Melanie could hear a muffled sob.
“Press that button at the same time as you pull the door handle,” Melanie said. “It’ll unlock and let you out.”
Now Rory and Jay were the ones frowning as Blake stepped back into The War Room, his face blotchy and red. He beelined for the bathroom and slammed the door, causing the shop to rattle.
“You’re no fun,” Jay said. “And how did you know how to do that?”
“Calvin taught me on my first day,” she said. “Just in case I got locked in.”
“Or in case someone locked you in,” Rory said, rolling her eyes. “No fair, he told us not to even try with you.”
“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.
“He told us if we tried locking you in the walk-in, we were…how did he put it?” Jay asked, holding his hand to his chin like he was pretending to remember. “Oh right, ‘deader than dead meat.’”
Melanie stood there for a moment, bewildered. Why was he treating her differently?
At that moment, Calvin walked into Scoops, the silence causing him to pause at the door. “We all good?”
She nodded, pulling her ponytail through her Scoops cap before heading toward the front of the shop, ready to bury herself in ice cream orders and avoid the annoyingly worrisome gaze of Calvin Ball.
Chapter Eight
She climbed the front porch steps of the cottage, glancing down at her shirt. It wasn’t nearly as messy as her first week, but after three weeks of working at Scoops, she hoped she would be at the point where she could come home and not have to scrub stains out of her uniform. She sighed, flicking off her Converse that the shop had officially destroyed, and stepped into the house.
Mom and Dad were dressed up and looking like they were ready to leave. Dad was holding tightly to whatever was bulging inside his jacket. Melanie lifted her eyebrows at him, wondering what he was hiding. He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of red wine. Melanie nodded. She understood.
She pulled off her Scoops hat and placed it down on the counter. “Where are you guys off to now?”
“Sandy Cove beach association meeting,” Mom said, picking up a tray of what looked like freshly baked brownies.
Melanie frowned as she saw her Mom wrap them up. “They seem to always have meetings.”
“That was just our initiation, this is the real meeting they have once a month,” he said, pointing to his jacket, “Except with the amount of, well, you know, that everyone brings, I doubt they get anything done at these things.”
“He’s all the way out on the beach, Harold, he can’t hear you.”
Melanie glanced out the window and noticed Duncan out on Sandy Cove beach. He was lying down on a beach blanket, shirt off, sunglasses on, and a speaker next to him as he lay there scrolling on his phone.
“Food, huh?” Melanie said, turning back toward her parents. “Am I allowed to come?”
“Sorry honey, owners only,” Mom said, touching Melanie’s cheek. “There’s money on the counter if you guys want to order something for dinner.”
She looked down again at the tray of brownies in Mom’s hands, frowning obnoxiously.
Mom chuckled. “There’s a container above the microwave.”
Melanie leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“No,” Mom said, lifting a finger and playfully poking Melanie’s nose. “You’re the best.”
She felt elated by her mother’s words as she watched her parents leave, walking down the sandy road and over to cottage two. But the feeling slowly died as she looked out at Duncan, now feeling nauseous. She didn’t want to be the best. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition.
Or…was it? Melanie always tried hard to be everything her parents wanted—a no-problem child with good grades and hopefully bound for Yale. She always told herself she was doing it because her parents deserved it, because they worked so hard to give her what she had. But as she thought of her twin brother on the beach, she wondered if there was another more sinister reason. If the real motivation behind all of it was to push her way to the top, like she did at Garrison. Maybe she was the one to blame for everything that was happening. Maybe she was the one causing the pain, the one who led him to who he was today.
Without really thinking, Melanie charged out of the cottage and down to the beach, listening to Duncan’s music get louder and louder as she approached him. When she finally reached his towel, he glanced up.
The words were on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say it, wanted to tell him she was sorry. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him.
But before she could get a word out, Duncan grinned at her. Teeth and all. Like the fight weeks ago never happened.
“Mel Mel, come join me,” he said, shifting on his beach blanket to make room for her.
She took a timid seat next to him as he slightly lowered his music. She noticed he had half a bottle of beer open next to him as he reached for the canvas bag at his feet, pulling out another one. He held it up to Melanie, and lifted his eyebrows.
An invitation. He wanted her to have a drink with him.
She knew she shouldn’t. They’d never had a drink together before—Melanie set that boundary long ago. She didn’t want anything to do with that part of his life, hoping that it would just eventually fade away.
But his eyes were full of expectation and hope, a bouncy dirty blonde curl falling in front of his face.
What if she was just taking the wrong approach? Maybe if she actually said yes, if she casually had a drink with him, he would see that it really wasn’t a big deal. That this partying phase he was in was just that—a phase—and it didn’t have to consume his life.
She nodded. Duncan whooped with glee as he popped off the top, handing it to her. He lifted his own beer and they clinked glasses. Melanie placed the bottle to her lips as she watched Duncan down the rest of his beer, tossing the empty bottle on to the sand.
Duncan watched her enthusiastically as Melanie finally tipped back her beer, taking her first pull.
It tasted sour, like a piece of bread that went bad, and it was uncomfortably warm from sitting in Duncan’s bag. The fizzing from the beer made her throat catch. She coughed roughly, some of it coming out of her nose.
Duncan laughed heartily.
“Th—that tastes like piss,” Melanie said, wiping her face with the bottom of her filthy Scoops shirt.
“Oh, it gets better with time,” Duncan said, a huge toothy grin still plastered on his face.
Doubt it, she thought. “Maybe if it wasn’t so warm,” Melanie mumbled, glaring at the bottle.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, chill it in the fridge?” Duncan joked, gesturing back toward the cottage.
Melanie wondered how in the world he got alcohol in the first place. Did he have a fake ID, or was someone buying it for him? Where was he hiding it? Thinking about the particulars had her feeling even more nauseous, so she tried to avoid her nagging thoughts as she took another pull of her beer, which was still just as awful the second time around. Why did people like this so much? At least she was able to swallow it down this time without coughing.
The two of them sat there for a beat, watching seagulls swoop down from the skies into the bay. One ballsy seagull tried walking up to the two of them, probably looking for food, but flew away soon enough.
“So,” Duncan said, twisting open another bottle. “How’s the new job?”
Melanie exhaled. “Tiring.”
“Dad says you’re making bank,” Duncan said.
Melanie chuckled. “I am, it’s wild. Who knew people loved sugar so much.”
“Who would have thought,” Duncan joked.
“How’s, um, Leila?”
Duncan grinned again, sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “She’s really cool. Just finished up her freshman year at this fancy art college in Baybrook. She’s also a girl boss like you. Makes bank selling her stuff on Etsy.”
Melanie smiled, feeling happiness bubbling in her chest. They were talking, connecting. When was the last time they actually did this? Before that first lacrosse party? Maybe the last summer they were here in Haverport?
Was taking a single sip of beer really all it took for her to get here?
“She jokes about being a cougar and dating a younger guy,” Duncan said. “Even though I’m not even two years younger than her. The whole ‘I’m still a junior’ thing threw her off a bit.”
“Oh,” Melanie said, feeling a bit shocked that Duncan actually told her. “Does she—”
“She doesn’t know the particulars,” Duncan said, cutting her off. “I just told her I got into some trouble which landed me here.”
Melanie nodded. “Got it.”
Duncan smirked, bringing his beer up to his mouth. God, how was he doing that? Didn’t he know it tasted like absolute garbage?
“So, what’s going on with you and that sergeant?”
“Excuse me?”
Duncan sat up. “Would you like to order?” he mocked, trying to act like Calvin with his back straight and rigid. “You’re holding up the line!”
Melanie couldn’t help but laugh as Duncan slumped back down onto the blanket, laughing as well.
“Please don’t tell me you like that anal piece of shit,” Duncan teased, shoving Melanie’s thigh.
Melanie’s throat tightened. “He’s anal, perhaps,” she said, thinking about the particular way Calvin told her to count how many spoonfuls of candy should go in each size ice cream bowl, or how to perfectly squirt the hot fudge so it wouldn’t overflow with the spoon. But then she thought of how relaxed Calvin looked driving her home, his fingers tapping playfully on his thigh. Or how he opened the door for his grandmother at the cafe, holding a patio chair out for her and gently sliding her into the table. “But maybe not a piece of shit.”
