Summer Ever After: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

Chapter 31

I rockedroller skates in the parade, riding alongside Mayor Barnes and Betsy’s golf cart. When I got to the end of the route, Walker was there, passing out water bottles to everyone who’d just finished. But we couldn’t talk, since I had to go to the beach to make sure everything was set up for the games.

I ran the spike ball game on the beach but had a perfect view of Walker playing bocce ball with a bunch of twelve-year-olds. While every other adult was sitting and chatting, Walker played. I cannot even tell you how attractive that was.

The next time I turn around, Walker is flipping hamburgers at Marlyss’s Beach Break canopy she set up. It’s not like he gets paid to help her, and standing at the grill on a hot July afternoon is miserable. Nobody wants that job, leaving me wondering how he ended up with it in the first place. But when I ask Marlyss, she says Walker just appeared and started helping.

Is this his plan? Torture me all day by being right in my eyesight but never close enough to talk to? And to make things worse, I’m turned on by community service. Walker has suddenly become Mr. Sunset Harbor. My heart is a gooey mess. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

In the midst of one of my busiest workdays of the year, I can’t stop thinking about him, and his words from this morning, and the cocky way he said them. I’m literally throwing a giant party for the whole island, but I’m wondering if Walker has had a chance to try out the soft-serve ice cream machine or the dunk tank. Then my mind drifts to licking the ice cream off his lips or imagining how his shirt would cling to his body if he got dunked wearing it. I’m like a lustful teenager, daydreaming in class. I’m the one who should be dunked in the dunk tank to cool off.

The sun drops below the horizon, shooting pastel oranges and pinks against the scattered clouds. Games on the beach have long been replaced by bonfires, trickling smoke upward with families circling around them, waiting for the fireworks to start. There’s a big crowd in the parking lot, dancing along to Mo and the Kokomos as they play music from the makeshift stage.

I take a seat at one of the tables, resting my feet as I listen to the crowd belt out “Sweet Caroline.” People jump up and down, chanting the ‘So good! So good!’ part back to Mo.

My eyes swing from one clump of people to the next, looking for Walker. By how seriously I’m taking my hunt, you’d think I was the leader of a search-and-rescue team. But it’s dark, and I can’t find him anywhere. Fatal disappointment brews as I realize he’s most likely gone home for the night.

Would he really leave without saying something?

I don’t think so.

You don’t look at a woman the way he looked at me, suggestively whispering that you have a few ideas of what we could do together, then leave before elaborating on those ideas.

“It’s another successful Sunset Harbor Fourth of July bash, thanks to Jane Hayes!” Capri pats me on the shoulder as she passes behind me and takes the seat next to mine.

“Where’s Tristan?” I ask, noticing she’s without him for the first time today.

“He went to buy me a drink. We thought it best not to be by each other’s side all the time or else people might notice.” The happiness behind her smile is the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“Look at you, so in love.” I push her shoulder.

“It’s weird, right?”

“Not for me. I always knew it would work.”

“You’re next.” She smiles.

“Jane’s next for what?” Cat plops down at our table.

“For falling in love,” Capri answers, and it’s kind of nice to see her confidence coming through. Usually, she hangs back whenever other people are around. I guess I can thank Tristan for bringing that out in her.

Cat nudges me. “I saw you and Walker at the pancake breakfast this morning. Something was definitely sparking between you two.”

I feel Capri’s eyes weigh me down, and I hate it. “No, I don’t think so.” I shake my head, trying to play it off.

“Jane, you’re being careful around Walker, right? He’s bad news for your heart.”

Bad news. Fake news. No news. I don’t even care.

I’ll take whatever he’s dishing out. I just don’t want Capri to know it.

“Relax, there’s nothing between us. It was just pancakes.” I smile, reassuring her. Part of me hates myself, but the part that wants to see thirteen-year-old Jane happy is all for it.

“Okay, good.” Capri breathes a sigh of relief, and I quickly switch the subject, looking at Cat.

“Where’s Holland?”

“Eh, she and Phoenix just got in a big fight and left.”

“Oh, boy.”

“There’s Tristan.” Capri stands, looking at us guiltily. “Do you care if I go to him?”

“Why are you still here?” I push her toward him. “Go to him already!”

“Thanks.” Capri dives back for a hug. “Love you. I’ll call you later.”

Both Cat and I watch as they hug, walking off together.

“I hate people who are in love,” Cat mutters.

“Me too.”

“I don’t believe it.” She laughs. “Not coming from the girl who openly claims to love love.”

“I know. I normally love it—just not when it’s not working out for me.” Or when the man I’ve been looking for all day has disappeared.

“I have a feeling there’s more going on between you and Walker than you want Capri to know.” I glare at her, but it does nothing to stop Cat’s sly smile. “I also have a feeling that Walker is the reason none of your other dates are working out.”

I lean forward, giving Cat a taste of her own medicine. “And I have a feeling the reason Noah Belacourt wanted nothing to do with me on our date is because of you.”

“That may have been true then, but it doesn’t matter now.” She leans back in her chair, seemingly disgusted with life. “We’ve been avoiding each other all day.”

“Then I guess you and I will have to band together in our singleness.”

“Nah, I’m getting out of here soon.”

“No, you can’t leave me,” I whine. “The fireworks are almost starting.”

“You get paid to stay. I don’t.”

“I guess I’ll just walk around, picking up garbage or something stupid like that.”

“Jane?”

I stiffen, eyeing Cat before slowly moving my gaze to Walker’s outstretched hand and up to his glorious face standing above me. He’s no longer wearing his baseball cap, and he’s changed into a new T-shirt and shorts. Everything about him is fresh and attractive.

“Dance with me,” he says with a grittiness that I feel all the way in my spine.

My body goes into overdrive, rendering me speechless.

“She would love to.” Cat grabs my hand, putting it in Walker’s.

I let him pull me up, glancing back at her. “I…uh…” But she just waves me away, wagging her brows.

“I thought you left,” I say as Walker weaves me through the crowd of people.

There’s an urgency to his movements, like he can’t get me in his arms fast enough.

He leans closer, talking over the music. “I did. I went home to shower because I smelled like twenty pounds of hamburger grease.”

And now he smells like twenty pounds of fresh heaven I want to bury my nose into. I glance down at my hand in his.

This is unreal.

We’re holding hands—a simple action I haven’t even allowed myself to dream about. It’s as monumental as the kiss we shared a week and a half ago.

Try not to freak out, Jane.

He turns, pulling my body to his. “Do you only swing dance with Dustin Pearce?”

“Dustin’s my preferred partner, but I guess I can give you a turn.”

“As long as you don’t think he’ll break my jaw for dancing with you.” His roguish smile has me throwing caution to the wind.

I give up.

“I’m worth it, aren’t I?” I flash him my flirtiest smirk, making the most of whatever’s happening here.

“You most definitely are.”

His smile is the last thing I see before he spins and twirls me, pulling me in and out of the other couples dancing around us. It’s honestly the most fun I’ve ever had dancing with a guy. It’s fast-paced, exhilarating, and flirty, and when the music ends, we both clap and cheer, letting Mo know how much we loved it.

“We have one last song to play before the big fireworks show,” Mo says into the microphone as one of his guitarists plays chords for the next song. “We hope you don’t mind, but it’s a slow one.”

The crowd cheers, and I glance up at Walker. He doesn’t immediately ask me to dance or grab my hand. The fragile girl inside me panics, not wanting to look like an idiot just standing here waiting to be asked.

Fight or flight kicks in.

“Well, thanks for the dance.” I turn to leave, but he tugs my shirt collar at the back of my neck, pulling me to stay. A shirt tug just became my favorite micro-trope ever—one second ago, I didn’t even know it existed, but I’m hooked now.

“Hold up.” Walker’s blue eyes glimmer down at me. “We’re not done just yet.”

I freeze, waiting for him to make some sort of move so I can follow his lead. His hand slowly glides up my arm, skimming under my sleeve until he cups my shoulder.

The intensity in his gaze turns my stomach to bubbling lava. Nothing is said as he pulls my body to his. His free hand goes to my hair, tucking a stray piece that fell out of my bun behind my ear. I swallow, feeling the warmth of his touch in every part of my body. Fingers trickle down from my ear, over my neck, to my back, and instead of the typical slow-dance position, Walker wraps his arms around me in a bear hug that’s all-encompassing. My hands lift to his waist, but that doesn’t seem like enough. After a moment, I slide them around his lower back. The position holds more security than anything else has in my whole life.

We slowly sway back and forth to the rhythm of the music. There’s a wanting behind how our bodies move together that’s sweet and sensual, churning emotions inside me like the perfect storm. I hold onto his back, contouring my palms over his muscles. I feel his heartbeat through my body all the way to my toes as he leans in, inching us closer together. And all too quickly, the song stops, snapping the thread of desire and leaving me desperate for more.

Our bodies reluctantly peel apart.

“Who’s ready for the greatest fireworks in western Florida?” Mo shouts into the microphone, and the crowd goes wild. “Mayor Barnes put together an incredible show with synchronized music. So we’ll turn it over to them. You guys have been a great crowd tonight. God bless America!”

Chaos ensues around us as people rush to the beach for the fireworks.

Walker grabs my hand, and it’s like I know what he’s asking. I nod, letting him pull me in the opposite direction of the crowd. We walk toward the pavilion, slipping around the corner. I press my back against the cinderblock wall, watching as he closes in. His hand rests above me, allowing him to lean into my space.

The fireworks start, exploding in the sky around us. The booms match the driving force pounding in my chest. Walker turns his head, glancing up at the colors, but my eyes stay fixed on his jawline and how his dark waves wisp over his ear and neck. Then, his gaze shifts back to me.

Desire sparks in his blue eyes, and the corner of his mouth curls in the most kissable way. “You have to ask me.”

“For what?”

“I told you I wouldn’t kiss you again until you asked me.”

I should be asking what all of this means between us and what happens when he leaves Sunset Harbor, but I don’t think about any of that.

My mind is only focused on one thing.

“I’m too stubborn to ask,” I say, lifting my chin toward him.

“Then we’re at an impasse. I can’t go back on my word. What kind of gentleman would I be then?” His face moves to mine, barely brushing his lips across my cheek and neck, tormenting my senses. His head drifts back with a crooked smile covering the same lips that set my skin on fire with their skims. “I need you to ask me, Jane.”

“Or I could kiss you.”

Walker’s smile is the last thing I see before I close my eyes and press my mouth to his.

His reaction is instant. Blazing lips on mine. Warm hands roaming like he can’t find a way to hold me that satisfies his need. Our lips move passionately together, discovering that feeling that makes falling in love so incredible.

Our first kiss was a jolt of electricity, scorching me from the inside out. It zapped me with fire, like a seventeen-hundred-watt microwave on full power. But this kiss is a slow cooker, deliberate and sultry, filling me with sweltering heat that grows hotter and hotter the longer we go. I’m on low, cooking for four to six hours and loving every second of it.

His lips coax mine, initiating a rhythm so intentional it’s devastating to my soul. Whatever finesse or grace I started with has long since melted away. I’m reactive now—matching everything he offers.

The fireworks increase in intensity and frequency, popping into the sky one after another as the finale lights up the island. I sense the glow and colors behind my closed eyelids, but neither of us breaks apart until the crackling stops and the cheers from the beach carry to us.

Any second, droves of people will be here, flocking to their golf carts or rushing to get on the first ferry back to the mainland.

I may have kissed Walker Collins for twenty-five minutes—I know because there was a lengthy discussion at work about how long we should make the fireworks show—but I don’t want anyone else on this island to know that, especially his sister. She’d be so disappointed in how weak I am.

The cutest, awestruck smile covers Walker’s mouth. “That was…”

“I know.” I blush, laughing with him.

“Jane?” My two-way radio goes off. “Be sure to kill the microphone and speakers before some little kid messes with them.”

I lift the walkie-talkie to my mouth, keeping my gaze on Walker’s smile. “I’m on it.”

“Sounds like you need to go.” He steps back just as a group of people round the corner.

My eyes flip to them, checking for Capri. A small twinge of guilt springs inside my chest. I promised her I would cool things between us, but instead, I did the opposite.

“Yeah, I probably need to go.” I slip past Walker.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jane.”

“I won’t.” I turn back to him with a big smile that matches his.

Some kind of something is happening between us.

It’s exciting and magical and better than anything I’ve read or seen in fictional romance.