Life Guards in the Hamptons by Celia Jerome Read Free Book Online Page B

Mars, Women are from Venus
.
    Now I was curious about Matt’s reaction. He laughed, said thank you, and we left. No comment that the librarian picked books for us. Not recommended, but selected, checked out to our names, and kept right by the desk as if she knew we’d be arriving. Both of us, which was far less likely since I’d had no plans to be in Paumanok Harbor until this morning.
    “You don’t have to read my books, you know,” I told him when we went to put both sets of books into Matt’s car so we didn’t have to tote them around. “Mrs. T is always urging people to read local authors.”
    “I asked her to save these two for me. They’ve been checked out for weeks. I’ve read all the rest.”
    The writer in me couldn’t help wanting to know what he thought. The sniveling coward in me was afraid to ask.
    I didn’t have to.
    “I wouldn’t keep reading them if they weren’t fun and clever,” he offered. “I keep being amazed at your creativity and talent.”
    Wow. And he liked dogs, too.
    We headed for the hardware store.
    I bought the yellow bug light for the front porch. Matt bought batteries. On our way out, Bill, the store’s owner, set the blanks at the key-making machine to playing “Getting to Know You,” from
The King and I
. Usually, no one but the locals—the talented locals—could make out the tune. Everyone else supposed the floor had shaken the keys to jangling, or the wind. When I visited as a kid from the big city, I thought a subway must run beneath the village main street. Funny how the mind rationalizes what it can’t explain. I guess I never recognized the songs.
    Matt smiled as if he knew all the words.
    At the drugstore, I got the medicated shampoo, after making certain Walter knew I had chiggers, not lice. At least chiggers weren’t contagious.
    Matt bought Band-Aids. Occupational hazard, he told Walter. Trying not to be obvious about it, both of us peeked inside our bags as soon as we were out of the store, checking for condoms. I used to take it for granted that Walter simply believed in safe sex and gave them out to everyone. Nope. He put little tinfoil presents in the bags only when they’d be needed soon.
    I was glad my bag had deodorant and lice shampoo, nothing else. I’d given up on men, or casual sex at least. I had scruples. And no rubbers in case I changed my mind.
    Matt looked in his bag and stopped smiling.
    We passed Big Eddie checking parking meters along Main Street. He was short for a police officer, but his nose made up for the lack of inches. He sniffed, then said, “Nice perfume, Willow. It almost covers up the smell of the bus exhaust and scared dog.”
    He flared his nostrils at the air around Matt. “Lots of scared dogs, antiseptic, disinfectant, dog food, and cologne.Good effort, both of you. Want to know what kind of perfume and cologne? I need the practice.”
    “No, thanks.” I shook my head, confused that Big Eddie talked about his knack in public. He always let outside people think his German Shepherd, Ranger, had the nose to sniff out drugs, lost hikers, bombs, and dead bodies. I glanced at Matt.
    “You missed the rabbit that came in this morning.”
    “Oh, I figured that was the one living under the boxwoods around the library.”
    How could Matt not think that peculiar? On top of the keys and the condoms and the library books? If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he knew something.
    Joanne handed us to-go cups, without our placing an order. An iced tea for me, sweetened. Coffee, black, for Matt. Then we decided we might as well get sandwiches to eat on the park benches since the day stayed so pleasant.
    Joanne asked if I wanted my veggie burger on a bun or a roll. Considering I’d only recently decided to be a vegetarian, Joanne had no way of predicting my choice. I’d never, ever ordered a veggie burger from the deli that made the best roast beef sandwiches anywhere.
    “A roll is fine.”
    Matt read the menu board. “I think