Read Online No Strings Attached by Kate Angell - Free Book Online Page B

boardwalk.”
    “The flower shop chick.” He took it all in, then said, “She had issues. Gossip ruins reputations. Your conversation with Bree was preconceived and one-sided.”
    “I say she’s right.”
    “I say she’s wrong.”
    Her chin came up. “Prove it.”
    “Why should I accept a dare to prove I’m a nice guy when I don’t much care what you think of me?” He shook his head. “No motivation, babe.”
    He shot her down and she sent him on his way. “The booze cruise waits,” she said. “Go spread yourself around.”
    He eased back, scooped up his plastic bag. “I give good spread.”
    Her heart gave an odd little squeeze.
    He walked toward the door, only to turn at the last minute. “Feel better?” he asked.
    Surprisingly she did. Her breakup seemed ages ago. Mac had a way of moving time forward. “I’ll live,” she said.
    “Then my work here is done.” He was gone.
    His departure left a gaping hole in her afternoon, one she didn’t want to dwell on. Over the next four hours customers came and went. The UPS driver dropped off two big boxes. She unpacked the shirts, steamed the wrinkles, then hung them on the front racks.
    A particular slogan fit her well: No Outfit is Complete Without a Little Cat Fur . The story of her life.
    Another motto described Mac James: On the Eighth Day, God Created Volleyball. She knew Dune would like the shirt. She set one aside for her cousin.
    She went on to choose a few items for the sale rack, items that hadn’t moved for months. She then decided to rearrange the display of flip-flops. Her part-time sales associate would clock in at six to work the evening shift. Jen had two hours before she closed out her day.
    She took a short break, returning to the storeroom to grab a Cherry Dr Pepper from the mini fridge. A café table, small desk, and narrow set of cabinets fought for space amid boxes of Barefoot William key chains, baseball caps, and waterproof wallets. Her ex-boyfriend’s presence still lingered. Stan Caldwell had always worn too much cologne. She sprayed Lysol to remove his scent, then returned to the main shop. The man was dead to her.
    She popped the tab on her soda, took a sip, and grew thoughtful. She wished she had a date for the Sneaker Ball. But there was no longer anyone special in her life. Stan had turned out to be a prick.
    Her days revolved around T-shirts and shorts. Her work attire was casual as well. The Ball was her chance to feel glam and girly. She’d chosen a dress by Daze, a strapless black silk with a fitted bust and tapering pleats from the waist down. The designer’s creations turned a man’s head and made his jaw drop. Her sneakers were silver with gold ties.
    She was co-chairwoman and had a couple’s ticket for the event. She’d now rip the ticket in half. She knew Mac James’s invitation rose from sympathy. She refused to be his pity date. They had nothing in common.
    She finished off her soda, then swept the hardwood floors. Customers had tracked in sand. Dusting came next. Five-fifteen. Customers swarmed her shop. Beachgoers were headed home and wanted to buy last-minute souvenirs. T-shirts were always on their lists.
    Jen assisted each one. She helped find the perfect shirt to keep Barefoot William alive in their hearts and minds for months to come.
    Her skin suddenly prickled in warning. She glanced toward the door just as Mac James and his crocheted-bikini date walked in. The woman was sunburned from her day on the party yacht. Mac’s tan had only darkened.
    He found her in the crowd. His gaze was sharp and very blue. Too sharp for a man who’d partied on Tide One On . His hair was wind-blown. He wore the Psycho shirt she’d chosen for him earlier as well as the brown shorts. He was barefoot. He looked lean and masculine; his expression, smug. A man soon to get laid.
    His date appeared a little tipsy. Mac’s peach-colored towel wrapped her hips and the knot kept slipping. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she kept