Eversea A Love Story

steps outside and got into my truck.
    I was going to try and recreate the way he said my name in my head for the rest the evening, I just knew it.
     

 
    S E V E N
    The Snapper Grill was busy. It was Friday night. The weekends, now that the tourists had mostly gone home, always drew the locals out. For me, it meant I hardly had a moment to think about my strange day with the runaway Hollywood hottie. Yeah right. In less than twenty-four hours, he had taken up residence in my life and mind. If I was honest with myself, it was all I could think about. I just couldn’t work out whether my feelings were about Jack the man or Jack the hot Hollywood actor or more specifically his character Max. I knew in part it wasn’t about Jack the man because, and I couldn’t kid myself about this, I hardly knew him. Part of me had to be projecting my feelings for a nonexistent perfect hero onto him.
    I thought about what I did know. He was gorgeous, that was a given. But he was also talented, hardworking, funny, and from what little I had gleaned from his conversation with his agent and things he’d said, he was at odds with his life right now. And he was also potentially heartbroken over his ex. That had to point to some kind of depth in him, unless it was just a bruised ego.
    Unfortunately, what I kept having to remind myself was that it didn’t matter either way. In fact, it would be better for me if he was just a smug celebrity. I needed grounding, badly, and I didn’t know who I could talk to about it without revealing who he was. I tried to call Joey right before leaving for work but ended up just leaving a message. It wasn’t like I was going to tell him, I just needed to remind myself I wasn’t in the midst of a very long and amazing dream.
    The busy sounds of the restaurant drew me out of my head. The talk was all about the potential path of the hurricane that formed in the Atlantic a few days ago and headed our way. Butler Cove hadn’t had a direct hit in a hundred and sixteen years. People surmised it was something about the way we were kind of tucked in a bit above Savannah before the land curved out seaward again as it went on up to Charleston and Myrtle Beach. I knew it meant our insurance was a bit lower than other seaside towns, and for that I was grateful.
    It sounded like the hurricane might be downgraded to a tropical storm, but it reminded me that Mrs. Weaton’s cottage needed a new roof. As her landlord, it was my, and Joey’s, responsibility. Luckily, I had managed to save up most of her rent money for the last year knowing it was imminent. I needed to see about getting it done though.
    “Hey, Hector,” I said, swinging through to the kitchen with some dishes. “Is your nephew still on that roofing crew down in Savannah?”
    “ Chiquita! How is Meester Mystery?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. So much for being surreptitious. Luckily, Brenda, one of the other waitresses who worked with me on our busy weekend shifts, had been on her way out as I entered.
    I hissed at him anyway. “Hector!”
    “ Lo siento ! Lo siento ! But it is love, yes? You can fix hees broken heart?” I knew Hector wasn’t that naïve. He was waggling his eyebrows again.
    “Stop that. And the only thing that’s getting fixed is Mrs. Weaton’s roof. Your nephew, can he do it? He’ll need to quote me a price first, ok?”
    Hector looked totally disappointed I wouldn’t play his game. “ Si , Si . I call José tomorrow, give him your number.”
    “Thanks, Hector.” I smiled prettily and thumped his shoulder. “ Graçias .”
    * * *
    Jazz popped in around ten o’clock, along with Jasper, Cooper, and Vern and a couple of other regulars from our extended circle. There was a small crew of us left in Butler Cove either by choice or circumstance, and we’d all gotten pretty close. Liz never made it out to the grill unless her mom agreed to watch her son, and pretty much everyone else from our graduating class had moved away for college or greener pastures. Lucky them. It was another busy evening, but as it wound down and got near closing, I found myself looking up every time someone walked through the front door. At close to eleven, I looked up just as Jasper headed over to talk to me. He was looking sleek and put together in his polo shirt and chinos, croakies around his neck like he’d just had lunch at a country club or played a round.
    “Hey, Keri Ann,” he greeted me. His blonde hair was brushed sideways across