“Yup. She’s hot. Definitely a teacher I would have paid attention to. Those pubescent boys aren’t going to know what hit them this fall.”

I’m counting out our register drawer, trying to stay focused on the numbers whipping through my head, but it’s difficult with Reid’s constant small talk. I jot down another tally mark on the paper in front of me and set aside a stack of bills. I’ve already accounted for all credit card transactions, which we only accept in the back; the front counter is cash only. We make sure that’s known with a bunch of signs around the shop and an ATM we conveniently have next to our front door.

“Hello, are you listening?” Reid asks, sounding annoyed.

“No. I’m counting.”

“Well, I’m talking about you, so you might want to lend me your ear for a second.”

Huffing, I set the cash on the counter, knowing my very persistent brother won’t be quiet until I give him my full attention. “What’s up, Reid?”

Satisfied, he smiles. “You should ask her out.”

“Ask who out?”

“Ren.”

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. “No.”

I go back to counting, but Reid starts snapping his fingers at me. “Hey, I wasn’t finished.” I look back up at him, not even slightly interested in this conversation. “I saw the way she was looking at you today. I think she likes you.”

“You’re confused. She was probably just being nice, since I’m the guy who pulled her out of the window of her car. And even if she does like me, which I highly doubt, there’s no interest on my end. So that’s the end of that.”

“Bullshit,” Reid and Jen both say at the same time.

Christ. My two most nagging siblings are ganging up on me. Just what I need when I’m trying to get home and relax.

“Can we not make this into a dissection of my personal life, please? I’m not in the mood, and I want to get this done so I can go home.”

“Griff, she’s pretty, she’s sweet, and she’s smart. She’s new to town and, I’m sure, could use a friend,” Jen says just as the door opens, its bell chiming through the space. Brig pops in, grease all over his shirt and a smirk on his face.

Uh-oh. There’s only one reason why he’d be smirking at me that way.

“What are we talking about?” He rubs his hands together and takes a seat on a barstool near the window. “If it’s about the hot new teacher in town, I want in on this conversation.”

“We’re trying to convince Griff to ask her out.”

Brig slow claps his appreciation. “Novel idea. I think they’re a perfect match. It’s like Cupid struck both of them in the ass down in that ditch.”

“I’m not asking her out,” I huff, giving up on the register and leaning against the wall behind me, arms crossed. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on counting while these three are yapping in my ear.

“Why the hell not? She’s perfect for you,” Brig says, a little insulted at my rejection. “Before you even say no, you should at least get to know her a little. I told her today she could borrow your truck while her car is in the shop.”

I count to five before answering, tamping down my temper. “Why the hell would you do that?” Okay, maybe I didn’t tamp it down enough.

“Uh, because she lives three houses down from you?” Brig rolls his eyes as if I’m the stupid one in this conversation. “She needs some help, so be a knight in shining armor, dude. Help out the damsel in distress and then make out with her on the beach. Maybe cop a feel; get some for once.”

“I’m not doing that,” I answer, going back to the money, letting them know this conversation is over.

“And why not?” Jen asks.

“Because I’m not interested in starting or being in a relationship. I’m happy with how my life is right now, and I don’t need anything complicating it.”

“But she has heart eyes for you,” Brig says like a jackass.

“Don’t worry; there are plenty of Knightly brothers to choose from,” I reply.

“Come on, Griff. How fun can going home to an empty, lonely house really be?” Jen chimes in, concern evident in her voice.

I shift on my feet, my voice terse. “I like my house. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Silence falls between us, an awkward air advancing in like a fast-moving cold front.

“Is this because of New Orleans?” Reid finally asks, taking a seat next to Brig. Both of my brothers fix their gazes on me, waiting for an answer.

Why is this a fucking thing whenever we talk about my love life? Can’t they just let it go? What happened was . . . hell, I don’t even know how to describe it. All I know is I don’t foresee love in my future.

Claire was the love of my life, and I lost her; in a blink of an eye she was gone. I’m not going through that again. Not ever.

Shaking my head, I turn away from my family. This conversation is over.

And with that, I take the cash to the back office, where I can get some peace and quiet.

Ask Ren Winters out on a date? Not going to happen.

And she’s not going to drive my truck either. I think that’s evident in the fact that she drove her car in between two trees.

Can’t blame a guy there.

Leaning back on my palms, I let my fingers sink into the cold sand as my legs stretch out in front of me, the salty ocean air filling my lungs with memories of my childhood.

All the football games we held out on the beach, tackling each other until it was too dark to see anything. The summers we spent trying to boogie board over the waves but failing—none of us had any skills when it came to water sports. The picnics we’d have as a family after long days in the shop, sharing bars of fudge and picking our favorites out of the new flavors Dad had created that week.

So many memories were made on this sand, some that have faded and some that have stuck to me like glue, shaping me into the man I am today.

The sun starts its descent toward the crest of the water, the waves lapping against the slate rocks to the left, their dark features replicating the deep color of the sand.

“Hey there.”

Her voice is distinct: sweet and small, but there’s power behind it.

I turn to see Ren walking toward me in a pair of yoga pants and a light-pink long-sleeved T-shirt. She eyes the spot next to me. “Mind if I join you?” She holds up a little bag I didn’t notice at first. “I brought the whoopie pie.”

Hell if I can resist one of those. It’s a signature Maine pastry that’s been recreated too many times in bakeries across the state, turned into a cheap knockoff, but not at the Lobster Landing. We’ve stuck to the traditional chocolate-cake cookies and creamy vanilla center. Why change something up when it’s one of the major delicacies tourists from around the country come to try?

“Bribing me with a whoopie pie? You really know how to break me, don’t you?”

“Not bribing.” She shifts on her feet, toeing the sand, looking shier than I expected. “Just offering you a little goody in exchange for some company.”

Hell, how can I refuse that?

I pat the sand next to me. “That’s an even trade.”

At her bright smile, the realization hits me harder than I could have expected: she actually enjoys my company, and hell, I enjoy hers as well.

She sits right next to me, our shoulders almost touching, and instead of stretching out her legs like me, she keeps them crossed in front of her as she pulls out the whoopie pie. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a taste, and right about now, my mouth is watering to the point that I’m afraid I might drool.

“Do you mind if I give you half? It’s huge, and I don’t think I could eat it all by myself.”

“I would love to eat the other half of your whoopie pie,” I answer, eyeing the damn thing like it’s the last one on earth.

She splits the chocolate, cakelike cookie with light cream filling down the middle and hands me a half. “That was easier than I expected.” She takes a bite, and I watch as she slowly closes her eyes, letting the flavors sit on her tongue. “Oh wow. Oh wow, that’s really good.” She springs her eyes open. “How can you serve these to people all day long and not take a bite out of each one?”

“Besides the fact that customers would get mad if we started nibbling on their baked goods, you learn pretty quickly not to eat everything, or else you’re staring down a pastry-filled gut and scone-size love handles.”

She holds the whoopie pie out in front of her and turns her head toward me. “Sooo . . . what you’re telling me is that these treats aren’t sugar-free, fat-free, dairy-free?”

“Not even a little.”

“Well, damn.” She chuckles and takes another bite, moaning.

The sound stirs something inside me I haven’t felt in a long time. Longing? Yearning? The need for a woman? Thoughts about my love life began to confuse me the moment Ren sat down.