No Tan Lines by Kate Angell Page A

She needed an umpire and could also use another worker in concession. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She looked from Trace to Nicole and forced herself to be civil. “If you can help out, it would be appreciated.”
    “What time?” asked Trace.
    “Be at the park at seven. Game starts at seven-thirty,” Shaye said.
    “Equipment?” Trace asked.
    “Mask, chest protector, and shin guards are stored on-site.” She paused, and her cheeks warmed. “Wear a—”
    “Cup,” he finished for her.
    “There could be a wild pitch.”
    “Thanks for the warning.”
    Shaye was relieved. The game would go off without a hitch. She had her home plate umpire, whether she wanted him or not.
    “Dress down,” she told Nicole. “We supply an apron, but the snow cones can be messy.”
    “I have the perfect outfit.” The woman was excited.
    Shaye took a step toward the door. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. “Any questions?” she wrapped up.
    Trace cut her a glance. “How much does it pay?”
    Pay? He didn’t need the money. “Twenty dollars.”
    He nodded. “Let’s do it.”
    Nicole left first and Shaye second. Trace fell in behind her. His breath was once again hot on her neck. The man knew no boundaries. Kai locked up the store.
    “All mine.” Nicole took a final look at the storefront. “I want to paint the door a brilliant emerald green, like a gemstone. Lime and avocado are too fruity.”
    Trace looked pointedly at Shaye. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
    Shaye refused to commit. Dollar signs danced in her head. Costs were adding up fast. “Something to consider” was all she could say.
    Nicole took Trace by the arm, then waved to Shaye and Kai. “See you tonight.”
    “Can’t wait.” In truth, Shaye wished she could stop time, cancel the baseball game, and forget Trace Saunders existed. From the corner of her eye, she watched the couple move down the boardwalk.
    Trace had the athletic stride of a jock, and Nicole took two smaller steps to his every one. His neon board shorts could be seen a block away. He remained barefoot.
    He stopped twice on the boardwalk, once to listen to a guitarist strumming for tips. Trace tossed money into the man’s guitar case. A half block farther, he added a few dollars to the daily earnings of a young girl who danced on stilts.
    His generosity to her relatives surprised Shaye. At that moment he looked nothing like a Saunders. He wore surfside, sand-in-the-crack beachwear, a far cry from designer casual. Dressing less straight and stuffy made him almost human, but he could never fully pull off beach bum.
    He would become an eyesore the moment he crossed Center Street. Saunders Shores was all about pricey fashion. Shoppers kept to the redbrick sidewalks—sidewalks swept clean of sand. The trash receptacles were emptied hourly.
    She released a long-suffering breath. They would endure the volleyball tournament. Then get on with their lives.
    Kai’s cell phone rang. He took the call. “I’m walking your way now,” he told the caller. “Be there in ten.” He disconnected.
    “Aunt Molly’s dishwasher is stuck on the rinse cycle,” he said. “I need to stop by the diner on our way to the ball park. All her equipment is old. I fixed her grill yesterday, and the fryer the day before that.”
    Shaye was well aware of the deteriorating diner. “Her kitchen needs a major overhaul.”
    Kai hooked his thumbs inside his tool belt. “Molly’s not going to spend money on new appliances. Her spare change goes to feeding those who can’t afford a meal. Her diner’s become a soup kitchen for many. Molly never turns anyone away. She runs a long tab.”
    Shaye tucked her clothes bag under her arm, then crossed her fingers. “Let’s hope the tournament increases cash flow.” The boardwalk hadn’t been in the black for a very long time, but she believed better days were ahead.
    They struck out at a fast pace. “Explain your deal with Nicole Archer,”