“Not necessarily,” Reid says.
“I don’t know, she seems to know about the tourist situation,” Eve says, still with a smirk.
“Everyone knows about the tourists in Port Snow,” Reid counters. “That’s no surprise.”
“Are you being rude to me, Reid Knightly?” Eve asks with a glint in her eye.
Features turning soft, I watch my brother lean in and press a kiss to Eve’s cheek while cupping the other. “Never, babe.”
Ugh, sickening.
Also . . . sweet.
I’m disgustingly jealous, damn it, which leads me back to the letter.
“Can I read the rest of my letter, please? Without you two interrupting to make out?”
“We weren’t making out, but if you want us to, we can.” Reid turns toward Eve, mouth open, but she pushes him away and looks over Reid’s shoulder.
“Finish the letter. I want to know what’s inside the box.”
Me too.
“As for me, I love my town, but I also have an overall love of Maine. When I was young, my parents took me on road trips all around the state. We stayed in small cabins, played cards, and enjoyed the local cuisine and local food. One of my favorite places we visited was Damariscotta. We rented a cabin right next to the Damariscotta River, and we spent our time fishing and enjoying a true Maine summer with whoopie pies every night.”
“Love whoopie pies,” Eve says.
“Me too,” I reply and turn the letter over. There’s nothing else written so I part the tissue paper and find another letter. When I pull it out of the box, I spot a clear Tupperware container and inside are four whoopie pies. “Oh fuck, there are whoopie pies in here.” I pull them out and open the lid. The smell of chocolate and cream ascends into the air, giving me a sense of comfort.
“Those look fucking good,” Reid says, scooting closer to the table now.
“What does the letter say?” Eve asks, as she ogles the whoopie pies.
I unfold the letter and immediately see her lips at the bottom. That small gesture does so much to my insides that I take a second before I read. “I couldn’t get to Damariscotta for whoopie pies, so I went with the next best option. I made some. Don’t worry, I didn’t poison them. I feel like that’s something that needs to be stated. I love putting peanut butter cream in the middle, but decided to go the original route with you. I hope you enjoy them. Maybe one day we can share one in person. Until then, think about me when you eat them. Sincerely, Your Secret Pen Pal.”
“Adorable,” Eve says as I slowly set the letter down. “How do you feel about it?”
I sit back in my chair and stare at the container of whoopie pies and the letter, her red lipstick sizzling straight to my heart, causing it to beat faster, heavier.
“I feel . . . romanced,” I answer on a dreamy sigh.
“Oh my God, you’re the cutest.” Eve swats Reid’s arm. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?”
“I romance you,” Reid says. “Do you not remember how I won you back?”
“I don’t think anyone can forget that,” Eve says, and I think back to that day and everything that went horribly wrong, but also so very right. “But look at him, he’s giddy.”
I shrug. “Just chasing that swoony feeling. Sick of being the bridesmaid . . . I want to be the bride.”
“I think that’s how you should start your next letter to your pen pal,” Reid cuts in. “See if she’s willing to share bride role with you.” Such a smart-ass, cocky tone.
“You know what I mean. I can’t remember the last time I was in a serious relationship. All I want is to love someone, spoil them, make them mine. I want to start a family, move out of the apartment above my garage, and buy a house in the woods somewhere where my kids can have the kind of childhood we had. And this”—I point to the whoopie pies and letter—“this might be it. This might be how I finally find love. This girl, my pen pal.” A girl who makes me whoopie pies as a thank you. Who believes Port Snow is breathtaking.
“You can buy the house now. We all know you’re loaded,” Reid says with a laugh.
Not loaded, just . . . you know, well-off. Port Snow needed an auto mechanic, so I studied, saved, and purchased, but I also tapped into the tourist market as well. Found my niche. The time and money has paid off.
“I want to buy the house with my girl. I want it to be a joint decision.” Staring off into my apartment, I say, “I want to hold her hand while walking across creaky wooden floors we would repair and talk about what furniture we could see in certain places. I want to experience my first house purchase with someone, not by myself.”
“You’re only twenty-five, Brig,” Eve says. “You have plenty of time to find the right person for you. Stop putting all this pressure on yourself.”
“I know.” I blow out a heavy breath. “It’s painful though, watching my siblings all start their lives and head into that next phase of marriage and babies. I’ve been the one trailing behind my entire life and was hoping I’d have a solid girl by now. I don’t know, is there something wrong with me?”
“Is that a rhetorical question, because I can list—oof.” Eve swats at Reid’s stomach and then addresses me with sweet compassion.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Brig. Finding someone to spend your life with in a small town is hard, especially a tourist town. Hang in there, I have a good feeling about this secret pen pal of yours.”
“Yeah?”
She smiles and nods. “Definitely.”
Chapter Eight
RUTH
“You are totally Brig’s secret pen pal, aren’t you?” Eve says, coming up to Snow Roast’s counter and resting her palms on the coffee-stained wood.
“Shhh—shh,” I say harshly, looking around the shop, empty except for Rylee, who is in the corner tapping away at her computer, oblivious to her surroundings. Beck is in the back, cleaning mugs, and I’m taking care of the night’s receipts. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“There is no one here and if Rylee doesn’t know about your secret pen pal then you’re not a very good friend.”
“She knows,” I whisper for Lord knows what reason. “But that doesn’t mean you need to shout it.”
“I didn’t shout it, just stated it. But it’s true, isn’t it?”
How on earth could she have figured it out? I haven’t told her anything about the Summer of Love. Unless . . .
Oh God. My head snaps up to her. “Does Brig know?”
Casually Eve leans her hip against the counter and shakes her head. “The man is completely clueless. He thinks it’s someone from out of town.”
“Oh . . . really?” I ask, feeling a little let down. Is it too much to ask for him to even consider me as a possible love connection?
I guess he just doesn’t look at me that way.
“Yeah, but the minute I saw the whoopie pies and heard the story of driving around Maine, I knew it was you.”
“Did he tell you all about it?”
“Reid and I were at his place, testing spaghetti sauce he’s trying to perfect. He put half a cup of salt in it.” I cringe. Thank God I wasn’t a taste tester. Not that he would ask me. “The package arrived when we were there. And I have to say, it was so cute, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brig light up like that. It was like he sat on a lightbulb and was shining out of every orifice. He even said something about how he felt like he was being romanced.”