“Mom! Summer’s date is here and he likes pasta salad!”
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. It was a quarter of the size of my house. But it was so much more comfortable. Inviting.
“We’re going to fly kites later,” River announced. “Do you know how to fly a kite?”
“I do.”
“Ocean keeps crashing them.”
“I do not,” Ocean called from somewhere I couldn’t see.
“You do.”
Becca appeared from the kitchen doorway, a dish towel over her shoulder. “Welcome to the madhouse,” she said. “Come on in. We’ve got a job for you.”
“Happy to help.” I held up the sparkling cider. “I wasn’t sure what to bring. I know the rules.”
Her face lit up. “Oh, that’s perfect. I’m making virgin mojitos. This will be amazing.” She took the bottle and turned back toward the kitchen. “Come on. Summer’s prepping.”
I followed her through the living room. The back door was open and I could see the patio and the yard beyond it, where a couple of neighborhood kids had already materialized and were chasing each other in wide, chaotic loops around the yard. The late afternoon sun made the outdoors far more comfortable.
And then there was Summer. My heart stopped a full two seconds and I forgot the entire English language. She was standing at the kitchen island with her back to me, her hair loose and wavy down her back. She was wearing a sundress in a deep coral color that hit her mid thigh and was tied at the back of the neck. Her feet were bare on the kitchen tile. She had a paring knife in one hand and a cucumber in the other.
She turned and looked at me. I smiled like the goofy teen I felt like. She had small gold hoops in her ears and no otherjewelry. She looked effortless and devastating and I wanted her naked in my bed more than I wanted air.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
She smiled at the cutting board. “Dad’s in the backyard with the kids. He’ll be in shortly.”
“Put him to work,” Becca said from across the kitchen, already slicing limes. “We’re behind.”
Summer looked at me and tilted her head toward the island. “You chop vegetables?”
“I can chop vegetables.”
“Carrots and tomatoes.” She slid a cutting board down the island toward me and gestured at the pile of vegetables waiting next to it. “Don’t cut your fingers off.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. I didn’t exactly do a lot of cooking at home but I knew how to chop vegetables. I owned a TV and had seen my fair share of cooking shows at three o’clock in the morning when sleep was impossible.
With the chicken in the oven and the salad chopped and chilling, we had thirty minutes to do nothing. But thankfully, it wasn’t awkward.
We took our virgin mojitos out to the deck, watching the kids on the beach. Summer sat across from me with her ankles crossed and resting on a stool. She’d barely looked at me directly since we’d come outside, but I caught her every time she glanced over. Every single time. I’d been staring at her every time I could get away with it.
Her father, Gideon, sat in the chair between us, which I suspected was not accidental. He was not a large man, but he had the kind of quiet authority that didn’t need size to back it up. I respected him and not just because he was Summer’s father.
I liked him immediately. I’d always liked him, which was why I always felt like such an asshole when I was running around with Summer behind his back. She was the one who insisted he couldn’t know.
“Summer tells me you’re working on extracting yourself from the whole port situation,” he said before he took a sip.
“I am,” I said. “I made the call this morning. I’ve pulled my investment and I’m working on convincing the other investors to do the same.”
“That’s going to cost you something.”
“It already has,” I said. “It’ll cost more before it’s done.”