She Likes Pina Coladas: A Second Chance Romance (Bristol Bay Book 1) Read online

  But today was the final straw. I left the house for my daily meeting with Sam. As soon as I arrived, I could tell something was off. The normally happy boy, who would greet me at the door with a big smile and some new toy, was looking rather gloomy. It took me the entire lesson to get him to reveal the source of his sadness—his grandparents were moving to Florida. His grandfather would no longer be picking him up from school. The way he explained that his grandpa was his best friend made me smile. It also brought tears to my eyes. It is something I totally understand because my grams, although always judgmental and quick with her snark, is my best friend too. But dementia is stealing her from me. Not quite the same as moving to Florida because I can still see her whenever I want, but it breaks my heart just the same.

  Leaving Sam, I was an emotional basket case. I walked into my apartment hoping to find it empty, wishing for nothing more than to crawl into bed, have a good cry, and then head to Grams’s nursing home to hug her tightly. Instead, I found Ben standing in the kitchen, in his boxers, scooping peanut butter out of the container with his finger and sliding it into his mouth.

  When Ben saw my tears, he rolled his eyes and asked, “What’s wrong now?” His cold stare hit me hard. I had braced myself for his indifference but certainly not his cruelty.

  Shivering, I muttered under my breath, “Enough.” I stalked into the kitchen and glared at him. “Ben, I need some space. Why don’t you go back to your apartment today, and we can see each other over the weekend?”

  He looked up surprised, but he didn’t react. Instead, he went back to the jar and scooped another blob of peanut butter onto his finger. I watched in horror as he put it in his mouth and slowly sucked on it, making a slurping noise.

  Something about the sound set me off. I didn’t even want him to come back this weekend. I wanted him out. Gone. I staggered a breath and looked away. “Listen, Ben, perhaps that was a bit abrupt. But I think we should talk. Can you, uh, put the peanut butter down and come sit with me?”

  And wash your hands.

  He shrugged and put the container down, licking his fingers. Then he walked to the couch without washing his hands. In that moment, I knew I was done. He was a jerk, and he disgusted me. I don’t even know what I previously found attractive about him, because in that moment there was nothing.

  Definitely not the sight of his saggy boxers, or the doughy white stomach which hung over them. Certainly not the overgrown beard he developed once he stopped going in to the office. But most importantly, it was how he treated me. I wasn’t even comfortable in my own skin around him. He needed to go.

  “Listen,” I started, but he was already looking at his phone. So rather than giving him the nice version, I plowed straight into the direct one. “I would like to break up.”

  “What? Are you on your period or something?”

  I hate him. I don’t even like him a little. And there was peanut butter in his beard.

  “Ben, you need to leave.”

  He made no move to stand up. “Now,” I said with finality. “I’m going to go for a walk. When I get back, I don’t expect you to be here. So, uh, it was nice to meet you.” I cringed at my choice of words. I’ve never broken up with someone. I’ve always been the dumpee, never the dumper. I was not very good at it. Obviously.

  Finally, the reality of the situation seemed to set in. “Charlie, what are you talking about? Nice to meet me? I love you.”

  Okay, so the first time you tell someone you love them should definitely not be when you’re being broken up with. Rookie mistake. Also, I hate being called Charlie. Ben knew how much it grated on me when he called me that. “Ben, you don’t love me. And I don’t love you. We had a good time with each other for a while, but I am no longer interested in pursuing this relationship.”

  “Well, where do you expect me to go?” he asked incredulously.

  “Um, your apartment. Your parents’ house. I don’t care where you go. You just can’t stay here.” I flung my arms out in frustration.

  His face turned beet red. “But I sublet my apartment because you asked me to move in. And now you’re telling me you don’t want me here.”

  I did what? Never happened.

  “Wait, you moved into my apartment?” Obviously, this was some sort of misunderstanding. I would have noticed if he had moved into my apartment.

  Ben walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase overflowing with clothes. The closet, next to the front door and which used to house my jackets and shoes, was packed with boxes I didn’t recognize. Where are my shoes?

  “Ben, I did not ask you to move in. You sublet your apartment?”

  He shrugged. “We were spending all of our time together. It made no sense for both of us to pay rent.”

  Oh, and he just decided he should benefit from the cost savings. How generous of him.

  “Well, go to your parents’ house then.”

  This was so not my problem. Mockingly, he replied, “Why don’t you go to your parents’ house?”

  I mean seriously, what did I ever see in this guy? Just looking at him made me uncomfortable. I told him I’d go to Steph’s for a bit so he could pack, and when I got back, I wanted him gone.

  After recounting the story to Steph, I look up to meet her amused expression. “You broke up with him because he slurped the peanut butter?”

  Glaring at her, I say through my teeth, “That is what you got from my story? The man moved into my apartment without me knowing! How am I going to get him out?”

  She shakes her head. “Stay here tonight. Pat won’t mind. It will all be better in the morning.”

  “How will it be better? Seriously, Steph, how do I keep meeting these losers?”

  Steph taps on her chin as if she’s giving this some real thought. “I mean this certainly isn’t ideal. But you were never that interested in him anyway. Did you really even like him?”

  Focusing on the stem of my wine glass, I ignore the tone of her voice. The tone that tells me she knows I already had one foot out the door with this relationship to begin with. The one that says, he wasn’t him so you’re not really that upset. “I liked Ben,” I say quietly. Although, as I said before, I can’t really remember what exactly I liked about him.

  Steph puts her hand on mine, showing a softness that she reserves for special occasions. In class she’s the one who keeps the kids under control. I’m the one who snuggles the kids close and whispers in their ear after they’ve done something wrong. My softness played against her tough gal demeanor makes us a great duo. “It’s okay to admit that you want more. You deserve more, Charlotte. You just need to believe it.”

  Defensively, I pull back. “I believe I deserve good things. I just don’t believe in that whole love at first sight mumbo jumbo. You meet a nice guy, you date, and you find out if you’re compatible. I just seem to have very bad instincts when I pick guys. Obviously.”

  She shakes her head. “You need a spark. You need magic. You need to stop settling and wait for the real thing.”

  My mind flashes to the only time I ever felt that in my life—the spark. Undeniable chemistry with someone. It was as if my body buzzed simply because of his proximity. Emotion catches in my throat, and I roll my eyes as I squash the memory like a spider you find in the shower. It wasn’t hard to forget. We only spent a few hours together and I’d been drunk. I barely remember his face and cannot for the life of me remember his name. Not that I’ve tried to remember or anything. “That stuff’s not real, Steph. A dependable man that shows up? Now that’s something to swoon over. But butterflies—magic when you kiss—that’s the stuff of fairy tales.”

  “I can’t help but think that the old Charlotte used to feel differently. That one perfect night ruined you. You need to let go of him and start believing in that spark again. You’ll find someone that makes you feel that way, I promise.”

  I shake my head
of the memories of that one perfect night, of the man who has only been a recurring character in my dreams, the guy I measure everyone else against, and the one who let me down just like the rest of them. With determination in my voice, I say, “Nope. I can’t do this again. I’m done with men. Done with dating. Done with boyfriends. Done with it all!”

  Chapter 3

  Jack

  April

  “How did the date go?” Pat asks as he takes a swig of his beer, a smirk already pulling at his lips.

  I consider throwing the basketball currently in my hand at his head but instead toss it into the air, swoosh, directly into the basket. His appreciation for my backwards shot is more rewarding than hurting him. “I blocked her phone number while we were on the Zoom call.”

  He laughs. “Brutal.”

  “You want to know what’s brutal? Listening to her drone on about her kids the entire time and then having her introduce them at the end of the call. They were cats! She called her cat her daughter. Mikayla is such a good eater. Mikayla loves to dance with me in the kitchen. Mikayla had a hard time when her dad left, but now she’s adjusting.” I wish I was exaggerating, but Mikayla’s “mom” had not even been the worst of the women I “dated” recently.

  Hysterical, Pat spits out his beer and laughs loudly. “Where do you find these chicks?”

  It’s a valid question. “Not everyone is as lucky as you.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “It can’t possibly be that hard to meet someone normal. You dated plenty of girls in high school. Perhaps you’re just too picky.”

  This time I don’t hold back. I throw the basketball directly at his chest, and he falls backwards but holds his beer up like a trophy, saving it from spilling. “Ha! Keep it up and I’m gonna leave you alone again.”

  A cruel threat. I’d been working nonstop to fix up my house. I bought a fixer-upper, and Pat avoids coming over so that I don’t rope him into any of my projects. This was probably a mistake—buying a house—or at least buying a house in this town. Being back in the town that held so many memories was almost as bad as being overseas. I could practically see my best friends and me riding our bikes up and down the street, my sister trailing behind us, as we set off to explore Colt State Park when we were ten. Or meeting up for lunch at Bristol House of Pizza. Bristol held every good memory in my life, and unfortunately now it also holds their ghosts.

  My mind is constantly playing tricks on me. I’d even seen Charlotte. Or at least I imagined I did. A girl runs through my neighborhood every day, and I swear before she turns the corner onto my street the hair on the back of my neck rises, an electrical current letting me know she’s coming. I watch her and imagine it’s Charlotte. Impossible, of course, since she doesn’t live here. Clearly, I’m losing it.

  “I need to get out of this house. I’m going stir-crazy.” Thank God, I still have work. And flying. Although, I miss going for drinks with the guys after training. There is nothing better than spending the afternoon in a jet, the engine and the wind drowning out all your thoughts, followed by a cold beer. Now all I do is come home to my own thoughts and this mess of a house. At least I have my dog to keep me company.

  “I mean, this can’t take much longer,” Pat offers.

  Right, that’s what I said when I bought the place. But it was taking so much time. “I hope you’re right, man. Doesn’t Steph have any friends she could set me up with?” Pat chokes on his beer, laughing again. It is a bit desperate. But desperate times. “Seriously, you don’t understand how lonely I’ve been. I never thought I’d say this, but I need a girlfriend.”

  “Jack, buddy, now is not the time for a girlfriend. This is how you get a stage-five clinger. She’ll realize you have this beautiful house and think she can be the Joanna Gaines to your Chip. Then she’ll move in before you even realize it has happened.” He shakes his head.

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Pat couldn’t possibly be talking about Steph. She is the least demanding woman I know. Steph is happy to sit by herself and read a book. And she can play cards and throw back a beer with the guys. Pat literally has the best of both worlds.

  “Not me, Steph’s friend. Get this—she started dating a guy, and he moved into her apartment. Without telling her. She found out when she broke up with him and he refused to leave. She’s staying at our house. So, believe me, you don’t want a girlfriend.”

  Shit, that sounds awful. And like something that would happen to me. The ex-boyfriend sounds like he’d be perfect for Mikayla’s mom.

  But now I’m even more jealous of Pat. He’s got two people to live with. “She hot?”

  Pat smiles and nods. “You didn’t hear that from me though. Strange how you guys never met. Although, with you being gone for so long…” he trails off.

  That’s the thing about being in the service. No one wants to talk about the reality of what happens when you’re in it. I get it. I don’t want to talk about it either. My reasons for staying away from this town for so long haunt me every day. I just want to be a typical thirty-two-year-old man, worried about meeting a girl, settling down, enjoying Saturdays at the park with my chocolate lab, my girl, and two kids. But the longer I’m in this town the more I think that is nothing but a pipe dream. Besides, at this point, I don’t even know how long I plan to stay in this location, let alone find enough time to meet someone to settle down with.

  Pat continues talking, even though I’ve essentially tuned him out. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’d say she talks too much. And she does.” He laughs at his own joke.

  “Picture?”

  Pat pulls out his phone, opens Facebook, and places her picture in my hand. Golden-brown hair and a wide smile accentuated by a dimple pulls at my memory. Charlotte. My one perfect night.

  Wait…Pat knows Charlotte? How? And does that mean she’s been in town all along? This feeling I keep having that she’s here, the image of her running down the street, the force I feel pulling me toward her—is it possible it was actually her? That she wasn’t another ghost?

  She’s really here.

  Working hard to keep my emotions in check, I feign ignorance. “She’s cute. You say she talks too much, but I’m sure I could tune her out.” I wink.

  Pat shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. Steph swore off introducing you to any more of her friends after that disaster with Astrid.”

  Rolling my eyes and running my hand behind my neck, I groan. That was not my fault. “Talk about a stage-five clinger.” I throw the basketball again, feeling a rush of excitement when it sinks through the net. Three-point shot. I’ve already decided I’ll be checking out Charlotte’s profile when he leaves. Suddenly, I can’t wait for him to go. “Damn, it’s cold out here.”

  “Yeah, I gotta get home. I promised Steph and Charlotte I’d pick up wings from The Bean.”

  My stomach growls just thinking about food. I consider begging him to let me join him, but my phone rings before I have the chance. I wave him off as I pick up.

  “Hello, sir,” I say, taking in the familiar number as a pit settles in my stomach. Will I ever not feel anxious when I see his number?

  “Jack, buddy, how are you doing?”

  I stare at the unfinished front steps and imagine the disaster of a kitchen remodel waiting for me inside and shake my head. “Never been better. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to my offer?”

  Not really, I want to respond immediately. Although, in all honesty, that would be a lie. Richard had called once a month for the last six months asking if I’d changed my mind. Was I ready to acknowledge that this life wasn’t for me and join him in Las Vegas to train against Air Force pilots? A dream job for many people, especially someone like me who loves nothing more than sitting in the cockpit of a jet going five hundred knots day after day. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”


  I hear him grunt on the other side of the phone. “When are you going to realize that this is where you belong? Jack, this is flying against the elite of the elite. You’d get more flight hours than you’ll ever have living in Rhode Island.”

  Of course, he’s right. Richard operates a private company that helps the Air Force prepare for combat. One of the biggest gripes of all men in the Air Force is that they never get enough time in the air. In this contractor job, I could practically live in the sky. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be a civilian again. Besides, Vegas reminds me too much of the desert. Until I make a decision on what I want to do for a full-time job, I’m working with the National Guard in Westfield, Massachusetts and I still get to fly F-15s once a month. And, if I’m honest, after Pat just all but confirmed that I’m not going crazy—that Charlotte is here—there is no way I can give up a second chance to have something real with the girl I’ve never forgotten. “I’ve got to see this through, Richard. But I appreciate the call.”

  “Of course. When you change your mind, I’ll be here waiting. There’s more to life than your sleepy little town of Bristol, Rhode Island.”

  Chuckling, I reply, “So you keep telling me. Bye, Richard.” I’d seen more of the world over the last decade than most my age. There was absolutely life outside of this town, but a life with Charlotte in Bristol, now that is something I would like to explore. Before I can do that, though, I need to do my background work. I screwed up the first time we met. I do not intend on missing my chance with Charlotte again.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte

  May

  It’s May. May! I feel like I’m living in Groundhog Day. I am Bill Murray. Every morning I wake up, positive I will be in my bed and this entire miserable existence will be a complete dream, only to roll over and find I’m sleeping next to Grover.