"It's not — I'm not — okay, look," I say. "I’ve been waiting all day to text her again because I don't want to be the desperate guy."
"You ARE the desperate guy," Max says.
"Yeah. I figured that out about three texts ago. The ones I haven't sent."
Tate’s grinning like Christmas morning. "Remy. My brother. The Playboy of Paradise Springs. Stymied by three little dots."
"Yes."
"I love this. I am loving this,” Max laughs.
The waitress comes over, and he points to me. "He's paying."
She takes my cash and walks away. Max is right. Normally I'd be checking her out, flirting, trying to get her number. Today, I feel zero attraction.
"I've gotta get to the Chamber meeting," Max says. "You two clowns going? The business part of the meeting starts soon."
Max reminds me of Dad when he talks like that.
"Yeah, I guess so," I mumble, throwing some cash on the table. "We can walk over."
"In this heat?" Max scoffs.
Tate and I both ignore his question and start down the street. Max's blood has thinned or something since he returned from New York, because unlike me and Tate, he can no longer handle being in the sun much.
My two brothers talk about resort business as we walk the four blocks on Main Street from the Haunted Hearth to the Chamber office, but I lag behind, still thinking about my texting standoff with Leilani.
It's not like I was looking to marry her or anything. But our connection was something I haven't felt in years. And I'd hoped to keep talking. To see her again. To find out what kind of person opens a mermaid-themed bar.
Since yesterday morning, she's all I've thought about. The way she laughed when I slipped. The way her skin smelled like coconut.
Every time I think I have her out of my head, something brings her back. The color of the sky. A truck the same make and model as hers. A song on the radio about a girl who keeps walking away.
I'm not normally this kind of guy. Maybe my brothers are, but I'm not. I'm a lone wolf, a confirmed bachelor.
Okay, so I did look her up online last night. There were a surprising number of videos of her as a mermaid at Weeki Wachee. I watched all of them. She’s super talented.
This has gotta stop, because I have charters booked and things to do. She's probably been at Mermosa all day, drowning in contractor estimates and lists, just like she described. She'll text me when she's ready. Or she won't.
My brothers and I make our way into the chamber office to the check-in table. I'm not the kind of guy who would join an organization, but Max and Tate convinced me that it was something I needed to do for my business. And it does help me network, so that's why I come.
Dr. Andrew Green, the Chamber president, is at the table. He owns a walk-in medical clinic here in Cypress Grove and is also president of the regional NAACP. And he's an excellent fisherman with a hella expensive boat. Dude practically beat me at the last Cypress Grove fishing rodeo.
"The Hastings brothers!" Andrew calls out, shaking Max's hand. They went to high school together and have been friends since they were kids. He extends his hand to Tate, then to me.
"Y'all going to sign up for the mentor contest?" he asks. "Ten grand on the line for our new business owners. We're pairing mentors and mentees today. Perfect timing for your arrival."
I groan silently. The annual mentor program pairs new business owners with existing businesspeople, and the teams compete for the cash prize. For a new, small business owner, ten grand is a welcome chunk of cash.
But I'm not a team kinda guy, and have always successfully avoided this particular event. Had I known this was on the agenda, I'd have skipped this meeting. Mid-week mornings are good for prepping the boat or sneaking in a couple of hours on the river before tomorrow's tour.
"Naw, I just don't have time," Max says, clapping Andrew on the shoulder. "Running the resort is taking more time than I have. Sorry."
Of course he doesn't have time. Resort my butt. He's too busy with Lauren, getting pedicures or massages or whatever. Taking photos at sunset for her Instagram. I grab my membership badge, wondering if I can duck out early.
"I'll do it," Tate pipes up, and Andrew hands him a red ticket. "That's why I came. I believe in giving back, unlike my brothers here."
I roll my eyes. Tate is such a do-gooder. Civic pride and all that jazz.