8

“Are you sure this is how you want to spend one of your last nights of freedom?” Sophia questioned Carter’s fiancée, Dominica, as the women set up their foldout chairs on the quiet beach. The sun had long set and granted the night a clear sky twinkling with millions of stars.

“It’s an honor to be included in a Sand Queens meeting for the very first time,” Dominica replied, her subtle accent sharping the ends of each word.

“I’m tickled you wanted to spend it with us, Dominica, but we could have thrown you a true bachelorette party.” Opal regarded the beautiful Cuban woman, considering her a breath of fresh air for Sunset Cove. Dominica’s family and friends weren’t due to arrive in town for another few days, so there was no way Opal would have let her spend the evening alone while the guys celebrated.

Dominica giggled nervously. “No thank you. This is more my style.”

The women settled down and studied the ocean before them. Opal loved how the foamy crests of the whitecaps appeared to glow at night as the moonlight danced along the top of the water. With each languid roll of the waves touching the shore and the subtle roar off in the distance on a melodious repeat, she could have easily closed her eyes and dozed off.

“Has Carter told you where y’all are going yet for the honeymoon?” Sophia spoke, breaking the trance as she began handing out thermoses filled with her homemade hot chocolate.

Dominica took one and held it in both hands. “We’ve done our fair share of traveling the world. I wanted something more private and cozy, so he’s taking me to the mountains.”

“That is so sweet,” Josie commented as she passed out thick slices of pumpkin bread.

“How romantic.” Opal swooned a bit before focusing on the treat. She took a deep inhale of the spicy aroma before taking a bite.

“Isn’t a log cabin in the mountains a little cliché?” Sophia added with a dramatic eye roll.

Opal scoffed. “Don’t be so cynical. Just because you’ve had a rough patch with Ty doesn’t mean you have the right to rain on Dominica’s romance parade.”

“Seriously, Sophia. That wasn’t nice,” Josie spoke quietly.

Sophia dropped her uppity air for a look of remorse. “I’m sorry, Dominica. I didn’t mean anything by that. The only cliché here is me. High-profile couple on the rocks.” She groaned at her own angst and slumped further down in her chair. Sophia worked for a successful PR firm that represented some of the biggest names in the professional sports world, namely her NFL star husband. Those two couldn’t do one thing without the media reporting on it and padding it with false accusations.

“Is Ty coming into town anytime soon? It’s been ages since we’ve seen him.” Josie spoke in her soft voice again. She towered over the others by almost a foot but had a knack for making herself seem small. Opal had been praying that the woman would grow in her confidence, because she was one spectacular woman in Opal’s eyes.

“Probably not. They’re gearing up for the playoffs. Besides, the only way I could probably get him in this town would be to knock him out and have him shipped here.” Sophia flipped her hoodie over her head, which was already shielded by a hat.

Opal studied her friend. Even though the ball cap and hoodie hid most of the brunette’s features, her mouth was set in a hard line and her slouching shoulders were indicators that something was weighing her down. “What happened?”

Sophia shrugged. “I suggested we move back here and try for a fresh start, but Ty’s dead set against it. Said I was being selfish for even suggesting it.” After a brief pause, she admitted, “Things just aren’t like they were in the beginning . . .”

“Aww, sweetie, maybe after Ty gets past the playoffs, things will smooth out for y’all.” Opal reached over and held Sophia’s hand, hoping to offer some comfort. She knew her friend well enough to know there was more going on than what she had mentioned.

“I hope so, for Collin’s sake. The poor baby isn’t handling all this uncertainty very well. He’s been acting out.”

“Collin’s a toddler. He’s supposed to act out.” Opal winked at her and the women laughed.

“This is true,” Josie agreed before taking a sip of hot chocolate.

The laughter broke the sad mood and the friends moved the focus back to Dominica and her approaching big day. She happily chatted about the wedding details while everyone enjoyed the pumpkin bread.

After about an hour, the snacks were long gone and Josie was nodding off to sleep.

“Ugh! We are too young to be this boring!” Sophia flicked a hand at their semicircle of chairs.

Opal was ready for when she spoke the words. Giving her friends a rascally look, she asked, “How about something cliché then?”

Within the hour, the three Sand Queens and their honorary queen were pulling off said cliché while sneaking around the parking lot at the Palmetto Fine Arts Camp, which was currently under construction. Tonight, it was serving as the playground for Carter’s bachelor party. Music boomed from the woods, where Opal knew the guys were goofing off. Their boisterous yelling and raucous laughter blended into the songs blaring out from the camp speakers. Luckily, they were in the middle of the country with no residents for miles, so they could successfully act like hooligans without disturbing the peace.

Opal handed each woman a handful of washable paint pens and orders to give each guy’s vehicle a feminine touch. She looked down the row and easily spotted Lincoln’s Jeep. Eyes set on the goal, she hurried over and began with the tire cover, turning the black circle into a neon-green peace sign with hot-pink accents. After that, she worked on the passenger’s side, thinking Lincoln was the true hippie and needed reminding of that fact. Fluffy flowers and hearts decorated the side before she moved to the driver’s side. A large rainbow took up the back part. Once she finished it, she scooted up to the door and decided on adding another peace sign with the word groovy underneath it.

Proud of herself, Opal stood up and came face-to-face with a scary sight —glaring eyes and severely pinched brows watching her from the other side of the driver’s window.

Yelping, her feet cleared the ground by at least a foot. “What are you doing in there?” Opal whisper-screamed while clutching her chest.

One of those thick eyebrows arched up while the rest of his face remained frozen in the scowl. “It’s my Jeep. You mind telling me what you’re doing to it?”

She hid the paint behind her back and forced an unsteady smile to her lips. “Making it pretty?”

“Get in,” Lincoln demanded. A combination of guilt and shock had her scurrying around to the other side and hopping inside. Before she closed her door, he barked another order. “Leave the contraband outside.”

Opal dropped the paint pens, wiped her guilt on her jeans, and shut the door. She steeled herself, waiting for him to lay into her, but after a few minutes passed in silence, she chanced a glance at him. With his head resting on the steering wheel, the thick locks of his hair served as a curtain around his face, blocking out whatever was bothering him.

“Linc . . . what . . . ?” She began to ask him what was wrong, but the past two months had taught her a thing or two on how to maneuver the rocky terrain of Lincoln Cole, and asking that question would only plow her right into a roadblock. Clearing her throat, she began again. “What’s so wrong with painting up this ugly beast?”

He tilted his head just enough for a dark eye to peep from the mass of brown hair. “Please tell me it’s washable paint.”

“I’m assuming.” She kept her reply short, hoping to draw the other eye out. She had to bite her lip to hold back the giggle when it actually worked.

Lifting his head, Lincoln said, “It better be some fine art skills then.” His dry retort was her undoing and sent the giggle slipping out.

“I can’t believe you were hiding out here and caught me red-handed. I officially fail at pranking.”

“Who says I’m hiding?” His voice was sharp and his glare sharper.

“Aren’t you?” She continued to navigate the conversation with caution.

Lincoln let out a rugged sigh and leaned his head back. Eyes fastened to the roof, he muttered, “They’re having a paintball gun battle in the woods.”

Opal’s first thought was that surely there was a tactic he could use to perch hidden somewhere so he could participate, but then reality popped her in the back of the head from her foolish thought. And that made her want to pop Carter in the back of his head for not considering their evening’s entertainment choice wouldn’t be very entertaining for a soldier still healing from wounds he endured during an actual battle. Surely Lincoln found nothing amusing about playing war games in the dark.

“Where do the guys think you’re at?” she asked after a punctuated silence swept through the vehicle.

“I told Carter my leg hurt and I was calling it a night.”

“Is it hurting?”

“It’s always hurting,” he mumbled, pushing both hands through his hair. After giving the ends a swift tug, seemingly to demand they stay out of his eyes, Lincoln reached over and cranked the Jeep. He glanced in the rearview mirror and began backing out.

“Whoa!” Opal’s hand lashed out and gripped his forearm. “I’m here with Josie, Sophia, and Dominica.”

He ignored her protests as he circled the parking lot until finding the other pranksters working on painting an ocean along the back of Carter’s tailgate. He rolled his window down and said, “I have Opal.”

Josie’s eyes bugged out, taking in the side of the Jeep where Opal knew her crime was on vivid display. “What are you going to do with her?” Her question came out all squeaky as she fidgeted.

“Don’t know yet. Depends on how mouthy she gets.” Lincoln rolled the window up, leaving Josie standing there looking like a frightened kitten while Sophia and Dominica hid behind the side of Carter’s truck.

Opal gave her friends the meanest look she could conjure and mouthed, “Cowards.” She turned her sights on her surly driver. “Look, Linc, I’m sorry for decorating your Jeep. I’ll wash it all nice and clean tomorrow. Promise.” Her hand moved to the door handle, ready to make a break for it once he reached the first stop sign.

“Nah. I’d rather you make this wrong right another way.”

Her belly flipped, thinking the worst. “I’m not that kinda girl, Lincoln Cole. You let me out right now!”

He snorted with no humor at her demand and kept driving. Didn’t even come to a complete stop at the sign, so there was no way she could escape unless she was willing to test out her tuck-and-roll skills. Knowing that would end in an epic fail, she reached over and pulled on her seat belt and then commenced to huffing and puffing in protest.

Lincoln kept his eyes on the road and finally gave some explanation. “Back home, when I’d have a lousy night, I’d take the top off the Jeep and cruise back roads with the radio cranked up. You know of any good back roads around here, Opal?”

Opal uncrossed her arms and sat a little straighter. “If dirt roads will make my wrongs right, then I’ll lead you all over this here fine county.”

“Deal,” he agreed. “I’m gonna swing by the firehouse to lose the top, and then you can lead the way.”

She perked up some more. “Can I drive?”

“No. You can copilot.”

Her shoulders drooped a bit. “Fine.” She only managed probably the shortest pout in history by the time they pulled up in front of the firehouse. A night cruising around with Lincoln was more appealing to her than it probably should be. The fluttering of her heartbeat and the smile stretching her lips couldn’t be stanched if her life depended on it.

As soon as he parked off to the side of the two-story brick building, they both hopped out and made quick work of removing the top.

“Seems you’ve done this a time or two.” Lincoln looked over at her as they carried the top to the shed.

“Bubba has a Jeep.”

“Kane?” He nodded his head toward the cement floor and began lowering the bulky top.

“Yep. You two have a lot in common, actually.” She brushed her hands off on the sides of her jeans and followed him back to the vehicle. “Anyway, we’ve done this very same thing many a restless night.”

“Good. At least you can make up for this gaudy hippie graffiti.” He glanced at his door before opening it and climbing in.

The fact that he had caught on to the theme of her artwork so easily had a giggle slipping out of Opal before she could contain it. She had other pressing matters to tend to at the moment, so she reined in the laughter and tried straightening her face into a serious expression. “I’ll agree to be your copilot on two conditions.”

Lincoln gripped the steering wheel and frowned. “What?”

She pulled one of the hair ties from her wrist and held it out to him. “First, you need to pull your hair back so I can see your face.”

He accepted it but asked, “What’s my hair have to do with riding back roads?”

“I want to be able to see your handsome face, if you must know.”

Lincoln turned in his seat to face her head-on, hair still hiding most of his face. “You see too much when you look at me. I don’t like it.”

His honesty sent an odd mixture of emotion rolling over her. “It’s not my fault you tell me so much with your expressions, but I promise not to share your secrets. They’ll stay just between us.”

A wariness set along his features as he hid the hair tie in his closed fist. “What’s your second condition?”

“Around these parts, it’s not considered proper dirt road cruising unless we have ice-cold bottles of cola and peanuts.”

Opal’s second condition somehow got the man to working on pulling his hair back in the hair tie at record speed. “I like the way you think sometimes, Gilbert. Where’s the closest store?”

The heaviness floated away into the night sky above, and the lighter nuance of his comment had her grinning ear to ear as she pointed over her shoulder. “Down the road, about a mile on the right. The first dirt road is only another mile past it.”

Without further discussion, Lincoln finished fixing his hair in a messy ponytail and began driving up the road to the store.

They each grabbed two bottles of cola apiece and a pack of dry roasted peanuts. As they waited to check out, someone let out a long whistle from behind them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Opie-dopey.”

Opal cringed before turning around to face a nightmare from her past. “Opie-dopey? Really, Ray? No one has called me that since high school.” She rolled her eyes at the preppy guy who took it upon himself to taunt her any chance he got and had several other doofuses following his example.

It wasn’t easy being the politician’s daughter, and adding her free-spirited personality to that made for an easy target. Nobody called it bullying, but that’s exactly what she endured. All because she didn’t look or act in the way most decided was the norm. Never did she want to fit that definition, so she ended up paying a price for it with being constantly teased and called inappropriate names. At least he chose one of the less offensive names to recall, she mused to herself.

“Aw, come on, Opie. You know you earned your weirdo status, but I’m game to get down with the freaks. How’s about I take you out for a drink. Just no weirdo outfits.” Ray laughed like it was the funniest thing until the formidable man behind her leered over her shoulder. Lincoln’s rigid stance pressed close to her, and Ray’s taunting eyes froze as the shadow encased them both.

“Who are you?” Lincoln asked with enough grit in his voice to scare even Opal.

She was about to back away from the confrontation when a strong arm secured itself around her waist, a wall of muscle pressing firmly against her back in a united front.

“Ray Owens. I’m a friend of Opal’s from back in high school.” He reached a shaky hand out and Lincoln ignored it. After getting the hint, Ray retracted his hand and swiped it over his forehead, looking right nervous.

“Opal’s never mentioned a friend named Ray. Certainly never mentioned an idiot dumb enough to call her a ridiculous name. What are you, two?”

Ray stammered out a shaky laugh. “Come on, man. I was just joking around. I mean . . . look who we’re talking about.” His head tilted toward her with his eyes growing round.

“No way are you talking about this woman standing in front of you. She’s one of the most creative and kindest people I know. You’d be wise to take note of that and to also take note I won’t be putting up with anyone treating her with anything less than absolute respect.” Without another word, Lincoln used his hold on Opal to spin her around and place her away from the hurtfulness the guy had just pushed on her.

Opal was used to having Lincoln’s strong personality aimed against her, but it was remarkably comforting to have it used as a shield of defense for her.

Opal remained quiet while Lincoln paid for their snacks, watching him add several packs of candies to the pile but not focusing on the types. No, her focus was on how good it felt to finally have someone on her side. Sure, she had the Sand Queens and her family, but having Lincoln on her side was a completely new idea. She’d always been mindful of the fact that she was the sidekick or third wheel. This time she had a partner in crime. Someone to lean on, and not just partially.

With his arm still fixed around her waist, Lincoln walked them outside and helped her load up, going as far as reaching in and latching the seat belt for her. He fished a glass bottle of cola out of the bag, used the side of the Jeep door as an opener to pop the lid off, and handed it over.

“For what it’s worth, I truly hope my words have never cut you down like that idiot’s did just now.” He took an uneven inhale and pushed it back out before meeting her eyes. “I’m angry at myself. Not you. But I think I might have taken that out on you some since we’ve met . . .” Lincoln leaned into the open door and whispered a confession. “I moved here to find myself, but all I’ve managed to do so far is to become even more lost.”

Opal reached over and smoothed her palm down his cheek and considered his confession, knowing exactly what he needed when he leaned into her touch. It was the same thing she needed right then, too. “I think maybe we need to head down south about a mile and grow a little more lost for a while. Whaddya say?”

The remorse and anxiety ebbed away from his face and a sad smile lifted his lips. “I’d like that.”

Her eyes widened in mockery. “Finally! I found something Lincoln Cole likes!” She let out a hoot and stomped her feet.

Lincoln shook his head but kept the small smile in place. “I also like the smell of honey,” he admitted.

Opal had a feeling he meant a good deal more with the simple admission. “It’s okay if you like me, Linc. I like you too.”

Those rich-brown eyes watched her for a few moments, looking like an entire war was going on within them, until he blinked a few times before managing to share a small smile with her. He playfully flicked her hoodie onto her head and walked around to load up.

It didn’t take long before they were cruising with the country tunes cranked up. A steady twang of Florida Georgia Line, Lee Brice, Sam Hunt, and many others made up the back-road playlist of their languid night. Never did he get the Jeep over twenty miles an hour, as if he didn’t ever want the night to end. Certainly they were working on leaving the night on, as one of Hunt’s songs reminded her at one point before dawn.

As the Jeep crept down a bumpy back road, Opal sang along to a Lady Antebellum song while she funneled peanuts into her second bottle of cola. She cut off midchorus and commented, “Soda should only ever come in glass bottles. Cans and plastic are such a crime to the taste of cola, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Affirmative.” Lincoln’s head was keeping time to the beats of the song as he held his bottle out to her. “You mind?”

“Not at all.” Opal settled her bottle between her legs and steadied his on top of her thigh to fill it with peanuts.

Once she handed it back, Lincoln surprised her by saying, “Thank you.”

“Great day, Linc,” she teased. “It’s only a few peanuts. And you’ll be grumbling come next week when you’re fishing them out from underneath this seat. I kinda lost a few a few times.”

“You’ll be the one grumbling. You’re having a GI party with this Jeep next week.”

“GI party?”

“You made the mess, inside and out, you get to clean it. Fair’s fair.”

Opal guessed that was another one of his military terms that meant cleanup duty. Shrugging it off, she asked, “Then what on earth are you thanking me for?”

Lincoln took a generous gulp and chewed a while. “I’m thanking you for this.” He pointed the bottle toward the road, where the headlights illuminated nothing but trees and dirt.

She’d normally let tease flow in such instances, but he was finally being up-front with her, and by golly she owed him the same. “I know I’m different than most folks, and most folks like to take it upon themselves to make me feel bad about that. I appreciate you sticking up for me and my kookiness tonight.”

He gave her a sidelong glance and shook his head. “You’re not kooky, so stop trying to act like you’re so special like that.” He took another swallow, chewed for a while, and then chuckled. “You reckon pretty boy back there ’bout wet his pants?” Lincoln tipped his head back and laughed at himself, and the sound of it warmed her from head to toe.

Now he was the one teasing and Opal really liked it. Before she could tease back, he grew serious and stopped the Jeep in the middle of the dirt road. His dark eyes drilling home an unyielding point even before he spoke it. “Anyone ever talk to you like that again and I won’t be as kind as I was to that guy tonight. He got off easy compared.”

Opal nodded her head and chose to sit back and enjoy the moment, because right then she realized Lincoln was more than just a friend. More than just a partner in crime. The man was becoming a part of her soul.

As Danielle Bradbery began singing “Sway” on the radio, Lincoln let off the brake and continued rolling down the rutted road. The vehicle swaying as slowly as the song’s melody had Opal’s nerves settling down. She hummed along and watched a shooting star paint a streak across the dark-purple sky.

“You just made a wish, didn’t you?” Lincoln teased, ending the punctuated pause in their conversation.

Opal smiled, keeping her eyes directed to the night sky. “You know it.”

Lincoln didn’t ask her to share her wish, and for that she was thankful. He certainly wouldn’t care for the idea of her wishing him to fill more of her nights just as he filled it then —rolling down back roads, sharing snacks and thoughts felt so right to her. She just wasn’t sure the man in the driver’s seat would agree.

They rode around until the first hints of the sunrise warmed up the sky. Lincoln pulled up to her house and appeared reluctant to leave, so they simply sat in silence and watched the sun completely rise over the ocean. Once it appeared settled into place, Opal reached into her pocket and pulled out a sand dollar she’d found while exploring the beach with the Sand Queens. She handed it over to Lincoln and said in a gentle voice. “Finding one of these intact is almost impossible anymore, but look what I found last night.” She traced her fingertip along the natural etching on top of the snowy-white shell where it rested in his palm. “I wish that wherever you end up finding yourself, you’ll remain intact. You’re one rare find, Lincoln Cole, just the way you are.”

He said nothing, so she left it at that and made her way inside. She peeked between the blinds of her bedroom and watched him sit there for the longest time, looking down at the shell in his hand. Apparently that tiny token gave him a lot to think about. Her eyes grew heavier, so without even changing, she snuggled in her bed and dozed off with sounds of country music and the newness of Lincoln’s laughter floating through her mind.