“Whatever.” She huffed. “I’m done! My fault.” She yanked off her name tag, threw it at Trust-Fund Brat, and stomped off in the direction of the staff locker room.
The country club sat on a hill overlooking the water. Boats of different sizes tugged against their moorings along the docks, waiting for their owners to take them out. The afternoon sun gleamed, giving the water a shimmer like golden confetti. The sky looked way too clear for the kind of drama Caleb had already been through.
After making sure Amber had left by asking one of the valets out front, he made his way to the limited-edition Mustang his grandmother had given him for his sixteenth birthday, parked in its slot facing the docks. Still in mint condition, it had been his grandfather’s car. Given to him by the great Carroll Shelby himself. He would miss the car when he took his gap year, but it was a small price to pay for freedom.
He sat in the driver’s seat, not intending to leave. Amber’s shrill voice still rang in his ears. Tugging his phone out of his back pocket, he plugged it into the special jack on the dashboard. Then he opened the glove compartment and grabbed a small plastic bag containing a joint and a lighter. He glanced around.
The parking lot looked empty, but considering his luck today, he didn’t want to risk adding an arrest for possession with intent to use to his worries.
Slipping the joint and the lighter into his pocket, he left the baggie on the passenger seat and got out of the car. He knew the best place to get high.
Coward’s Cliff. It stretched out over the water and was accessible by a path that began at the edge of the parking lot. The stand of trees gave the perfect cover. As kids, he and his friends used to dare one another to jump off. It wasn’t too far from the road, but it was secluded enough that a passing cop wouldn’t see him from the road.
Caleb ambled down the grassy path, keeping his stride leisurely, hands in his pockets. As far as anyone who saw him was concerned, he was out on an after-lunch stroll, enjoying the rest of the beautiful day. Once he made it to the shelter of the cliff, he fished out the joint and lighter.
Squeezing one end between his lips, he lit the other and inhaled. Holding his breath for a beat, he allowed the magic to work before exhaling in one long, satisfied puff. The smoke curled up in lazy tendrils. He sagged against a tree, tucking the lighter back into his pocket and keeping his hand there. His knuckles brushed against something metallic. The name tag. The waitress. A grin pulled at the corner of his lips.
She’d made him forget himself for a minute. And that was saying something.
He silently thanked her—wherever she might be—for the entertainment and inadvertently saving him from having to face Amber after the tears had dried. Amber would lick her wounds and move on to someone else. There were far richer eligible bachelors for her to latch onto in Dodge Cove. Maybe their breakup this early was a good thing. Now he could concentrate on the trip. Nathan already had most of the itinerary planned out. They had been talking about this trip since he proposed it at the start of the year.
After he’d taken a third hit, a hand snatched away the only thing relaxing him. Caleb straightened as fast as he could under the mellow circumstances. The protest died in his throat.
Pinching the joint between her thumb and index finger, Diana brought it to her lips and sucked in a lungful. Maybe it was the weed working or the shock of her sudden appearance, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. The soft whoosh of her exhalation mesmerized him. The way her lips formed an O? Check his pulse, he might have just died.
“Hey,” she said in a breathy voice, then took another hit. She still wore the country club’s uniform and those ugly boots.
“Hey,” he said back, unable to think of anything better until, “Quit hogging my high.” Not the best line either. He blamed it on the brain-dulling substance he had been inhaling.
With a huff for a laugh, she handed him back the joint. The idea of returning it to his lips when it had just been on hers made him suddenly very aware of her. The curve of her bottom lip. The upward tilt of her eyes. The long column of her neck. Her citrusy sweet scent.
“Whoa!” He inhaled, eyes wide. “This is some strong shit.”
She settled beside him against the tree. Their shoulders touched. “I’ve had stronger.”
“Oh yeah?” came out with an exhale of smoke.
“Yeah.” She reached for the joint, and he willingly handed it to her just so he could watch her bring the end to her mouth again.
He thought of something to say and came up with, “Diana.”
Her name. Just her name. It sounded so good to his ears for some reason. Yup, his brain wasn’t working properly anymore. He reached into his pocket again when she turned her head to face him, the joint still on her lips, and returned the name tag she had thrown at him.
“They call me Didi,” she said, running her thumb over her name. “I guess I don’t need this anymore.”