Changing Tides, page 10
Chapter Twelve
The parking lot was mostly empty by the time Rachel pushed her cart outside to the car. Though the air was brisk, it was no competition for the heat still burning in her cheeks as she loaded her bags into the backseat.
Of all the timing . . .
At least Joe hadn’t witnessed Carter’s charity, she mused. Not only would she have felt even more pathetic, but after that night at the Oasis, combined with Carter’s self-professed chivalry of paying for her groceries, he might get the wrong idea and think Carter meant more to her than he did. And though she hardly knew him, she liked Joe, so the last thing she wanted was for him to think she and Carter were an item.
Rachel placed her empty cart back in the bay, rounded the car and got in, then stuck her keys in the ignition and turned it on. The engine purred to life before it whirred and died.
“Shoot! Come on!” She tried it again, but all she got was a grinding sound.
Her eyes widened. She stared at the steering wheel, cranking the keys back and forth as if she might be granted a miracle and it would suddenly roar to life. But much to her dismay, it didn’t turn over. Instead, a whirring noise filled the silence.
“No!” she shouted, banging a hand against the steering wheel.
Again, she tried turning the key. Nothing. “No, no, no, no!”
Flopping back into the seat, she covered her eyes with her hands, unable to believe her luck. First, Carter, and now this.
When she removed her hands, she jumped.
The shadow of a man lurked just outside her window. A high-pitched sound escaped her lips before her eyes focused and she recognized the face peering in at her.
Hand over her heart, she inhaled, trying to catch her breath. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
Carter grinned as she rolled the window down. “I was in my car pulling out when I saw you having trouble.”
Rachel gritted her teeth. Of course.
“You need a lift?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head, gripping the wheel with two hands like at any moment the engine might start, and she could peel out of there, leaving Carter in the dust.
A deep rumble of amusement burst from his chest, which made her hate him even more.
“Come on, Rach. No need to be so proud. You shouldn’t be riding in this death trap anyway. Let me take you home.”
Rachel scoffed. Pride? What pride? She’d lost any semblance of the word the moment her car was repossessed right in front of her face and she lost her home.
She’d die before she allowed him to drive her home. It was bad enough, he saw her driving in Andi’s old beater.
“I’m fine. I’ll just call a tow,” she lied because she certainly couldn’t afford one.
“Rach . . .”
“Carter . . .” She eyed him with disdain.
“You have groceries in the back, and you don’t live far from me. Come on . . .”
Rachel swallowed, her resolve waning. Did she have any other options?
She could walk home with her groceries. Hitchhike. Call Andi and interrupt her wedding planning after everything she’d already done for her.
Or she could allow Carter to give her a lift.
None of these things were appealing.
With a soul-weary sigh she felt in her bones, she dropped her head back against the head rest. If Carter drove her home, he’d know she no longer had her own place.
Rachel watched him in her periphery as she said, “I was on my way to Andi’s house for a girl’s night.”
“Okay,” he said, straightening and jingling the keys in his pocket. “I’ll take you there, then. No big deal.”
If he suspected the fib, he said nothing.
Rachel hesitated, still reluctant to accept his offer, afraid it might encourage further advances. But she hated to bother Andi, so it was with great reluctance that she got out of the car.
She stared at his Mercedes, with its shiny black paint and leather interior the shade of butter rum, before she sighed and opened the door, then sunk inside while he retrieved her groceries from the back.
The seat molded to her body, reminding her of the kind of comfort money could buy, and when she inhaled, the new car smell, combined with the spicy scent of Carter’s cologne filled her lungs. And maybe it was her sudden exhaustion or the fact that she’d already grown used to the stale Cheeto motor oil combo of Andi’s car, but it was begrudgingly enticing.
Once Carter placed her bags inside, he slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door, then glanced over at her briefly before pulling out of the parking lot.
They drove in silence over the barren roads. Winter in Bayshore meant little traffic. The businesses that remained open for the winter had already closed early for the night, which meant the normally brightly lit street was unusually dark. Some residents found comfort in the silence. They liked the lack of tourists, the empty streets, and the shorter lines at the market, but not Rachel. She’d always loved the hubbub of the summer and found the dead of winter unnerving.
By the time they pulled into Andi’s driveway, the fatigue of the day had caught up with her, and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. It was all she could do to keep them open.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, hoping for an abrupt goodbye.
She was too tired to reject him again.
To her surprise, his only response was a soft smile, and it was so genuine it took her back for a moment.
She opened her door and stepped out, then grabbed her bags from the back, looping them around her arms so she only had to make one trip, ignoring the way they cut into her flesh.
“Let me help you,” he said as she struggled with the weight of her groceries.
“No. I got it, really.” She offered him a quick smile, then grabbed the last bag. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more kindness from him—or whatever this was. It was too unnerving. “Thanks again,” she said, then closed the door behind her and hurried onto the porch.
Somehow, she managed to wrench the door open with her hands full and collapsed inside, a heap of plastic shopping bags and food at her feet. Spinning around, she peered out the blinds on the door, waiting until Carter backed completely out of the driveway and out of sight before she allowed her forehead to sink against the cool glass in relief. There wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t ache with exhaustion.
“Oh, here, let me help you,” Andi called out as she rushed into the hallway. Rachel squinted as Andi hurried toward her and took several of the bags, carrying them to the counter where she began to unload her groceries.
“Thanks.” Rachel got herself together and stumbled her way to the counter.
“You didn’t have to get all this, Rach. Any time you need anything, I’ll get it.”
“You’ve been generous enough letting me stay here and use your car, and I’ve been eating your food all week. It was the least I could do. On another note, I had no idea how expensive food was. Look at all this stuff,” she said, waving at the bags, her expression incredulous. “It cost more than $150 and this won’t even last a week. I couldn’t imagine having a family . . .”
“So true.” Andi held up the wheel of brie. “Having said that though, if you’re on a budget, you don’t typically buy gourmet meats and cheeses. Instead, you buy Kraft singles.”
Rachel grimaced. “It’s for a charcuterie board.”
“Right. But you’re broke, remember?”
“Don’t remind me,” Rachel grumbled.
“Cheap white bread, peanut butter, boxed mac and cheese, pasta, and spaghetti sauce from a jar are your new best friends. Trust me. My family may not have had money issues, but I was a college student once, living away from home. You make do with a lot less when your income is sparse.”
“And I thought making coffee was hard.” Rachel leaned her weight against the counter with a sigh. “Lesson learned, I guess, but this was my first time shopping. I bought what I’m used to eating. How was I supposed to know everything was so expensive? I mean, yeah, there were prices, but when you’re not used to worrying about money, it’s hard to remember to check everything.”
Would she ever get used to having a limited income? Walking into a store and buying whatever she wanted was a habit. Apparently, one she’d have to break.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Carter bought it all anyway,” she grumbled.
“What?” Andi glanced over at her, eyebrows raised.
Rachel bit her lip and gave her a cursory nod. “Yep. It was the most humiliating thing. There I am, shocked at the total when the cashier rung me out. I’m wondering how on earth I’m going to get out of buying all these things since she already rang them up. I was faced with either looking like a complete idiot and telling her to put it all back or pay for it anyway and risk not having money to eat next month when Carter turns up out of nowhere with his wad of cash like he’s some knight in shining armor.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, it was awful. Which brings me to the other piece of glorious news.”
Andi frowned as she opened the fridge and stuck the meats and cheese inside. “What’s that?”
“Your car died. I have no idea what happened, but when I left the grocery store and went to start it, the engine wouldn’t turn over.”
Andi gasped. “Oh, no. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Carter just so happened to witness that as well.” She grimaced. “So of course, he insisted on driving me home. And here I am.”
“Well, I’m glad you got home okay. I’ll call a tow first thing in the morning. Don’t worry about it. The car is old, so it’s not surprising something went, but whatever it is, I’ll get it fixed.”
Repairs. Rachel’s stomach sunk at the revelation. She’d been so preoccupied with the craptastic turn of events she hadn’t even thought about having to pay for repairs.
“Andi, I can’t afford—”
“Of course not. I’ll pay for it. It’s my car.”
“Yeah, but I’m driving it. You have a perfectly good car,” Rachel said, waving toward the driveway.
“It’s still mine.”
“No.” Rachel held her hand up, her tone firm. Letting Andi pay for the car didn’t feel right. “I’ll handle it,” she insisted.
“But—”
“No buts. If I’m going to drive it, I’m going to fix it.” Though she had no idea how she was going to swing paying for car repairs. But there was no way Andi should have to provide her with a place to live, buy most of the groceries, and pay to fix a car she didn’t even want or need.
So even if it killed her, she’d pay for it somehow. She just hoped whatever it was didn’t cost a fortune.
“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Andi asked.
Good question.
Rachel bit her lip, mulling over her options. Immediately, Carter came to mind, but she’d rather cut her arm off than call him for help.
“If you could manage to drop me off in the morning, just this once, I’ll find a ride home,” she said, unsure if it was true.
“Okay, but if you need a ride home, too, just give me a call.”
Rachel sighed. Suddenly, despite her hunger, she was too tired to eat. All she wanted was a hot shower and a bed.
Yawning, she headed with the last of the grocery bags to the pantry and put the nonperishables away while Andi filled her in regarding the wedding invitations they’d settled on and something else Rachel was too tired to listen to.
“Rach?”
“Hmm?” She turned and blinked at her sleepily.
Andi chuckled. “Tired?”
“It’s been a long day.” A long week was more like it.
Rachel smiled sleepily. “I think I’m going to head up.”
She headed for the hallway when Andi called out. “Hold on.” Then she rushed to her side and beat her to the stairs. “I just have to pick a few things up.”
Rachel frowned as they took the stairs and headed toward the guest room where she saw at least a dozen glass jars sprawled out on the floor. Paper flowers, candles, and ribbon were scattered all over her bed.
Maybe this is what she’d been talking about.
“Sorry. The wedding planner I’m using seems to have gone MIA, so Ford thought I should come up with a backup plan for centerpieces and all the stuff she was handling just in case. I started in my own room, but it kind of overflowed into here. Don’t worry though. I’ll just shove it in the closet.”
Rachel stared at the mess. If it was any indication, Andi had better pray her wedding planner returned her calls. It looked like someone ransacked a cheap craft store in there.
Andi shoved some of the supplies into a reusable cloth shopping bag, put the glass vases into giant boxes, then crammed them into the closet with Rachel’s things.
“There,” Andi said, “I think I got everything. Sorry about that. I started in my bedroom, then got carried away and needed the extra space.”
“Hey, it’s fine. It’s your place,” Rachel said, dropping down onto the bed.
“Well, don’t say it like that.” Andi frowned.
“What? It’s true.” Rachel flapped a hand. “It’s fine, really.”
“I want you to feel like this is your home, too, while you’re here.”
“I know.” Rachel forced a smile. “And I do. You know that.”
“Okay.” But Andi must’ve seen the tension in her expression because she dipped her face to meet her eyes. “It’s all going to be okay. You know that, right?”
Was it though? From where Rachel was sitting, it certainly didn’t feel that way. It felt like she was an inconvenience. It felt like Ford and Andi were already married and playing house and Rachel was in the way.
Or maybe she was just being paranoid.
But her mind flashed to Andi and Ford working in the kitchen, to seating charts and guest lists spread out over every square inch of space. To Ford eating her soup, and Andi filling her room with décor and wedding stuff.
Eventually, they’d get tired of having Rachel around every spare moment of the day. Sooner, rather than later, they’d want their own space, just like Rachel did.
So, she just nodded and smiled, saying nothing.
Chapter Thirteen
“Thanks for the ride.” Rachel flung open the door to the backseat and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The passenger side window slowly rolled down, revealing Ford’s handsome face, along with Andi, leaning across the center console. “You’ll give us a call if you need a ride home, right?”
Rachel nodded, her smile tight. It had been more than two weeks since she lost her condo and car, yet she still hadn’t grown used to being dependent on others. “What are you two doing after this?” she asked, changing the subject.
Andi glanced at Ford and shrugged. “Get breakfast. Talk shop. The usual.”
“Ah, I remember when I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted,” Rachel joked. “I’ll be with you in spirit.” Then she winked and offered a little wave as she headed for the front of The Sea Oat.
On instinct, her gaze drifted toward the marina, scanning the area and for a certain dimple-cheeked fisherman, but when she found no sign of him, she reluctantly headed inside.
Reaching into her handbag, she pulled her apron out and tied it around her waist, then pushed into the kitchen to start the pots.
Behind the stainless-steel counters, Miguel worked, shredding potatoes for hash browns. But at her appearance, he glanced up, eyes flickering over her face. “Mornin’, Legs,” he said, referring to her by the nickname he gave her ever since she wore that blasted dress to work. “Rough night?”
Rachel shot him a dirty look. She knew she looked terrible. A night of tossing and turning, endlessly fretting over money and lack of transportation, combined with the knowledge she needed to find her own place to live, had kept her awake until the wee hours.
“You could say that,” she said, then promptly placed filters in drip trays of the coffee pots and began scooping out grinds. “Hey, Miguel,” she glanced over her shoulder, “you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who needs a roommate or a place to rent for cheap, do you?”
“Around here?” He grabbed a whisk off the counter and began beating a bowl of eggs.
“Yeah. The closer, the better, actually.”
“Man, not that I can think of. You know how it is around here. Any place worth living that isn’t priced for tourists is taken.”
Rachel’s shoulders curled inward as she exhaled. “That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t know what I was hoping for. Finding someplace that’s cheap and within walking distance is like finding a unicorn on the beach.”
He whisked a moment longer, then paused and brightened. “Hey, wait a minute, Boggs owns a place.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “No way!”
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what he’s doing with it, but it’s above the restaurant. He hasn’t had a tenant in over a couple years.”
No way.
“You’re telling me,” she said slowly because it was too good to be true, “that Mr. Boggs has an apartment just sitting empty, right above us? Right here.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Above this restaurant.”
“Yeah.” Miguel put the bowl down and grabbed a handful of shredded cheese and added it to the egg mixture. “There was some flooding or somethin’ a while back and he never got around to fixing it. I’m not sure. You’d need to ask him about it.”
Rachel bit her lip. How amazing would it be if she could live right above the diner?
Before she could contemplate it any longer, she heard Mr. Boggs enter the kitchen and hurried to get the coffee ready. If she was to convince him to rent the apartment out to her, she needed to do everything right today, be the perfect employee.
She filled the carafes and flicked the machine on, willing it to start percolating just before he swung in her direction. When his gaze quickly took in the two pots that, thankfully, started to splutter at that very moment, Rachel shot a look at Miguel over his head, urging him not to say anything. Then she headed out into the dining room and set out the rolls of silverware while she contemplated the best way to approach Boggs about the apartment.
