Page 31 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

“I don’t want you to get held up at gunpoint, or anything.”

“Aw, you do care,” I joke, working my way through the bills. “Looks like $113,” I say after a minute.

“Don’t forget the coins.”

“Right.” I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly feeling very flustered. This is easy—anybody can count change in a drawer. I don’t want to seem incompetent. I pile the coins on the desk next to me and count in my head to regain some sense of self.

“Looks like another $1.42 in change, so $114.42 total.”

Oliver nods. “Cool. So then, you want to go here,” he points to the computer screen again, “and just make sure things match up.”

I follow his gaze. “Looks like they do.”

“I’m glad to see your math skills align with those of the students you teach.” He’s fighting a smile; I can tell.

“I don’t really teach them,” I counter. “Well, I guess sometimes. Like when I have to talk about writing bibliographies or show them how to use the Chromebooks.”

“See? I know what I’m talking about.”

He’s still leaning against the counter, looking at me sideways. Everything about it feels intimate, from the way his eyes are reading mine at just six inches away to how I can feel the heat from his body radiating across the space between us. I’m not happy with how it’s making me want to move closer.

I clear my throat. “So, what happens next? With the drawer, that is?”

He shakes his head, as if extricating himself from a trance, much like I did just a moment ago. “We take the entire drawer out and put it in the safe in Maisie’s office. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Oliver shuts down the register, removes the drawer, and heads for the back. I follow like a confused puppy, my mind still reeling from the heat from his leg next to mine, his gaze on my cheek.

We finish the closing protocols quickly, and before I know it, I’m standing outside the shop while Oliver locks the door.

“So now you know how to close up,” he says. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“And then some,” I confirm drily.

“That’s what I thought.”

An awkward silence stretches between us, filling the night air with questions I’m not ready to ask.

“Well, I should get home,” I say finally.

Oliver nods. “Sounds good. I’ll be in at nine tomorrow.”

It’s been a long time since I had to work on a Saturday, but I’m hoping I’ll have more opportunities to help customers during a weekend shift. “Maisie asked me to come at noon. So I guess I’ll see you then.” I take a few steps backward.

For a second, I swear Oliver’s going to follow me, but he takes a beat, then bids me goodnight. As we walk our separate ways, I’m left pondering a whole host of things, but the thing that floats to the top of the mix is the expression on his face when he handed me the latte.

nine

I’m ready for work far too early on Saturday. The sky’s the charming blue of a postcard, and the shore is dotted with colorful umbrellas. Laurel’s holed up in her room, writing again. I remind her she’d promised me on the soul of her parents’ new corgi that she wouldn’t work this weekend, and that we’d get some beach time together before I had to go to the bookshop.

“I’m sorry,” she wails. “I’m in a flow state. I want to harness that as much as possible.”

I pat her on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “It’s okay. I get it.”

And I do. But I’ve also been hoping she’ll take a break, because she’s starting to look pale from too much time in front of her computer. Is that even possible, after less than a week? Maybe she just looks white against my arms, which are darkening quite quickly from all the time I’ve been spending outside reading.

In any case, while I’m not a medical professional, I’m pretty sure you can’t get the requisite vitamin D from your laptop’s blue light.

“We wouldn’t have had much time before my shift, anyway,” I add, because she clearly feels guilty about breaking her promise. “Just make sure you save some time for fun tomorrow, okay?”