Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
SUMMER
Like he promised, Rory doesn’t show up at the café for my evening shift.
It’s a relief to know I’ll be able to focus on my job without his smart quips or that charming smile.
There’ll be no effort spent suppressing the smiles he somehow teases out of me. No reminders that he spent the night making sure I was safe, fixed my van lock, or found my stolen paints because I won’t have to see him.
I replay the moment when he handed me the paints. How my heart had leapt at the discovery and how even though I’d told Rory nothing was missing, he’d somehow known.
But as the hours tick by, I become less annoyed with Rory and more annoyed at myself. I spend most of my shift regretting how I left things with him. Earlier, I was annoyed at him for not letting me pay for the new lock and for his insistence on getting to know each other.
Now I’m annoyed that I can’t even be mad at him because he’s too damn nice.
As Darcy and I exit the restaurant’s back door with Kale on our heels, Darcy lets out a piercing squeal. My first thought is the raccoons are back trying to get into the trash bins, but then I look up to find Rory standing there in a pair of gray shorts and a blue Carolina Current t-shirt. He’s got a backwards hat on and the large athletic watch he wears is peeking out from where his hands are tucked into his pockets.
The moment I see him, my heart lurches. The tiny weight in my chest lifts, traitorous and unwelcome. I shouldn’t feel relieved. I shouldn’t feel anything.
What is happening?
The giddy excitement at seeing him is followed by annoyance that he can elicit a rush of feeling from me. I love it and I hate it at the same time.
Darcy and Kale acknowledge Rory, then wave a quick goodbye before heading off in the opposite direction.
“Hey, Wildflower.” He says it so casually, like we hadn’t left things weird between us this morning.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to walk you home.”
“Rory—”
“I still don’t have your phone number so I couldn’t call you to see how your wrist is.”
He nods to where the brace is still fastened around my wrist.
“It’s better,” I say, my hand tracing over the brace. “Less achy than yesterday.”
“Good.”
I’m confounded by his inability to feel the tension between us. The suffocating weight of whatever this thing is.
“Are we going to pretend like things weren’t heated between us earlier?” I ask.
“Define heated.” His smile is half smirk while his eyes do that thing where they comfort me while simultaneously make me question everything. “Come on, we can talk about it on the walk.”
“I don’t need you to walk me. I have my skateboard.” I motion to my backpack where my pink board is peeking out the top.
“Winnie said no skateboarding until you’re healed. You’d hurt yourself even worse if you fell now.”
“I don’t plan on falling. That was your fault, remember?”
His phone buzzes. When he pulls it out of his pocket to look, my eyes drop to the screen.
Whitney.
“Hey, Whit,” he answers, but doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
Not wanting to intrude on his conversation, I turn to start walking down the path, but a moment later Rory jogs to catch up.
“My sister, Whitney. She’s in California. Just finished up school at UC-Berkeley. She’s a swimmer, too.”
I nod, refusing to give a second thought to the way my stomach eases with this information. I couldn’t care less what Rory is doing in his personal life. A girlfriend would mean he wouldn’t be here pestering me.
“Do you have any siblings?” he asks.
“No,” I answer truthfully, but also with a firmness that I hope will shut down this conversation. “Listen?—”
“I—”
We both start talking at the same time.
“You go.” He nods for me to finish what I was saying.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, but you have to let me pay for the lock.” If I pay for the lock, then I’m free and clear. No debt owed, no favor hanging over my head. No more reason for Rory to be hanging around. Except, there is the small thing of him saving me in the ocean the other day.
He studies me a moment. “Only if I can get your phone number.”
I scoff at his request. It’s just like last night when he insisted he give me a ride home when I offered him dinner after we worked my shift. “I don’t think you understand how this works. I want to pay you back; you can’t take the payment and demand I give you my phone number.”
“I didn’t demand. I asked.”
“And I said no.”
For a moment, he looks at me like a fox sizing up a hen, then the corner of his lip curls up and a carefree smile breaks out across his face.
“Okay.” He nods. “But has anyone ever told you, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”
“Yes. Have you ever thought leaving honey out attracts flies and I don’t want flies buzzing around?”
“Exactly. They get stuck. Then, they die a slow, sticky death.”
“Thanks for the tip. And you’re not walking me home. I’m walking home and you just happen to be here.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“You know what would make me happy?” I ask, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk.
“Hmm?”
“If you went home and let me walk home by myself like a fully capable adult.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, not happening.”
I huff, stopping in my tracks. “You know what else would make me happy?”
Rory stops beside me and turns, his gaze steady. “What?”
“If you actually listened to me.”
Rory steps closer. He’s towering above me, his thighs nearly touching mine. “You know what would make me happy?”
I swallow, trying to not let his proximity affect me. “What?”
He leans in. “If you admitted that having me here doesn’t bother you as much as you pretend it does.” His voice is rough, with amusement and something else entirely.
That’s when I feel the lump against my thigh. It’s not as impressive as I’d imagined it would be. Not that I’ve imagined what Rory’s hard cock would feel like, because I haven’t. Obviously.
I take a step back and glance down at his shorts. “Is there something in your pocket?”
“Actually, yeah.”
Rory laughs, then proceeds to pull a cellophane package out of his shorts pocket and starts to unwrap it.
I recognize it as a Little Sunshine Cakes choco swirl roll. I’d know those things anywhere.
“Do you want a bite?” he asks.
I stare at the log of chocolate cake and frosting he’s offering me. “No.”
We start walking again, and as he eats, he makes the most obscene noises. A deep, throaty moan with every bite. When we pass a couple on the street, I think about ducking behind a tree to avoid being seen with him.
“I would think choco swirl rolls wouldn’t be in a swimmer’s diet.”
“It’s Friday.” He grins around another bite. “Cheat day.”
“That’s what you choose to eat for your cheat day?” I ask, perplexed. “Out of all the possible choices you have to indulge?”
“Yeah, they’re fucking awesome.”
I stick out my tongue, making a disgusted face.
He devours the last bite. “Not a fan?”
If I wanted to get into it, I could tell Rory that my family owns Little Sunshine Cakes and the reason I can’t stomach a choco swirl roll or a sweetie bun or a nutty bar or lemon tart cake is because I grew up eating them and now not only do I not like the way they taste but they remind me of my parents who were controlling and put their desires for wealth and status ahead of anything else.
I shake my head. “I ate too many of them when I was a kid.”
Then, I look away because my stomach turns, not from the sugar, but from the memories.
“That’s how I feel about bananas. Too many overripe bananas growing up. I can put them in protein shakes but alone their texture makes me gag.”
Once his choco swirl roll is consumed, Rory fills the rest of the walk talking about his day, asking me about mine, and other nonsense.
“I have to make a stop along the way.” I nod to the bag of food I’m carrying. “So, feel free to go home now.”
“Who’s that for?” Rory gives me a suspicious look.
“A friend.”
He grins. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
“Not you.”
“So, you’re admitting we’re friends?” He beams.
“No, it’s not for you and we’re not friends.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” he calls behind me.
I ignore him and keep walking until I reach Cal’s house which is on the corner next to the RV park.
When I arrive, I find Cal’s waiting on the porch for me.
“Who’s that?” He motions to Rory’s shadowy figure standing on the sidewalk.
“Nobody.”
Cal adjusts his glasses and squints. “That’s Rory Shields.
“Hey, Rory.” Cal waves his wrinkled hand. “Good to have you back.”
“Traitor,” I mutter.
“What’s that?” Cal questions, moving his finger up to adjust his hearing aid.
“Nothing.” I sigh. It’s par for the course that Rory is known and loved by all. This is his town after all. I’m just temporarily living in it.
“Thanks, Cal.” Rory waves back enthusiastically.
“Make sure Summer gets home safe.”
“Will do,” Rory says as I close the gate behind me.
All I can do is roll my eyes and keep walking.
“Cal’s a great guy. It’s nice of you to bring him food.”
“It’s on my way home, so it’s not a big deal.”
I hurriedly cross the street to the RV park entrance, but it’s impossible to lose Rory. Those long legs of his make striding out easy.
“I’m sure it’s a big deal to him,” Rory points out.
“Do you have an incessant need to argue with everything I say?”
He presses his lips together, but can’t hold back his grin. “No.”
Rory’s phone buzzes in his pocket again. When he pulls it out to look at the screen, he lets out a frustrated puff of air.
I tell myself not to look, but my eyes are disobedient.
Daphne.
“How many sisters do you have?” I ask.
“Daphne’s not my sister, she’s my ex.”
My brows lift at how easily that information was offered up. When women’s names showed up on Tripp’s phone, he told me it was none of my business. I’d believed it for a while, too. Trusting him more than I trusted myself.
“An ex that’s still calling?”
“Yeah, I ended it six months ago but now that I’m back in town, she’s been calling me.”
When I unlock my van, Edgar eagerly greets me at the door, but after a quick hello, he leaps into Rory’s arms, licking his face and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“Hey, little guy. I missed you, too.”
Watching them is like watching best friends reunite. It’s sweet, but also annoying because Edgar is my dog, and he’s known Rory for a day.
“Okay. Thanks for walking me home. Please don’t do it again.”
“You’re welcome.” He grins, giving Edgar a scratch behind his ear. “And I can’t make that promise.”
He doesn’t leave, so I pretend not to notice and start unloading my backpack.
When I turn to find Edgar cradled in his arms, the two of them gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, I decide getting ready for bed will encourage him to hit the road. I grab my contact lens case next to the sink and take out my contacts. Luckily, I’d found an extra set tucked away in the bathroom yesterday which will last me another few weeks.
I reach for my glasses on the table beside him and slide them on, hoping maybe looking smarter will get him to take the hint.
“Have I told you I like your glasses?” he asks.
I turn to study Rory, whose body is now taking up the entirety of the bench in the dining nook of my van while he strokes Edgar’s back and decide I need a new tactic. Maybe if Rory thinks I’m not opposed to him being here, then he’ll leave. Reverse psychology and all that.
“Thanks.” I reach above the sink for a mug to make hot tea. An evening routine since the warmth of the tea helps relax my airway. “I’ve needed corrective lenses since fourth grade. What about you?”
“Perfect vision.”
“Yeah, that tracks.”
“You’re saying I’m perfect?” he teases.
“I didn’t say that, but it’s clearly what you heard.”
I stretch and yawn, it might be exaggerated but it’s necessary since Rory isn’t taking the hint. “I’m exhausted. I would imagine you are, too.”
“Yeah, I’m ready for bed.” He sets Edgar down and a moment later the sweet pup is curled up in his bed, breathing noisily.
Rory stands, his tall, broad-shouldered frame filling up all the space that once was between us.
He starts to pull at the neck of his t-shirt.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?” I stammer, my eyes immediately latching onto the sliver of smooth, bronzed skin that is exposed beneath his shirt hem.
“Getting comfortable. Last night I was warm with my t-shirt on.”
My mouth gapes open in outrage. “My lock is fixed. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“It’s fixed, in theory. But the question is, has it been tested?” His brows raise in challenge.
“Tested?” I cross my arms over my chest. “No. I didn’t ask anyone to try to break in while I was at work.”
Rory does a sweep of the van. He looks in the bathroom, checks the front cab and doors, then glances up into the loft.
“Are you satisfied?” I ask.
“No. What if something else happens? Like, a tire blows or a tree falls on the van in the middle of the night?”
“A tree? Really? That’s your concern?”
“Yeah, you can’t predict nature. Or vandals. Or…rabid squirrels.”
“Squirrels?” I laugh at the thought. “I’m not afraid of squirrels.” My eyes narrow on Rory who is now refusing to look at me. “Are you ?”
He scoffs but when our eyes meet, I can see the discomfort there.
“You mean the furry-tailed chaos machines that frolic like harmless critters one minute, then dive-bomb you from a tree the next?”
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “Rory, have you been attacked by a squirrel before?”
“No, but there’s always the potential.”
“You are tall so maybe they get confused. Maybe they think you’re another tree to jump onto.”
“Very funny.” He smirks and I’m wondering if this is all a setup. A reason for him to stay and play protector.
I blow on my hot tea before taking a sip. “I’m not usually funny, you must bring it out in me.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor and we’ll pretend like I’m Edgar’s bodyguard.”
“You’ll sleep in your own bed at home and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
We just resolved our earlier disagreement about me paying for the new lock, but somehow we’ve already found ourselves at another impasse.
“Summer.” His charming smile is replaced by a frustrated scowl.
“Rory.” I mock his frustration like a petulant teenager.
We’re in a standoff between my tiny kitchen and dining nook.
“Just because the lock’s fixed doesn’t mean I’m okay with you sleeping here alone.”
My hackles rise at his declaration.
“Guess what?” I fire back, stepping closer until my fuzzy slippers bump his feet. I’m ready to let him have it. “I—I?—”
The words are lost on my tongue as the warmth of Rory’s body floods my space. He’s warm, but the skin of my arms prickle with goosebumps at our proximity. It’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate space. A space where my powers to combat Rory’s charm no longer work.
So now it’s just me staring at Rory in his backwards hat. My eyes mesmerized by the way a few tufts of his thick, wavy hair peek out the front of it.
“You know what you bring out in me, Summer?”
“Frustration?” I guess, my eyes dropping to his lips.
He gives a quick shake of his head while his hands settle on the cabinet above.
“Protectiveness.”
I feel that protection. The way his large, solid body covers me like a shield, keeping me safe. But it’s nerve-racking, too. Something I’m not used to. Something unknown and intimidating.
“And what if I don’t want to be protected?” I whisper because any other volume won’t fit in the miniscule space between us.
Rory’s lips are inches from mine.
Those firm, luscious lips that I’ve caught myself staring at more than I want to admit.
He drops a hand from its position above me, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear before his palm settles on my jaw. His eyes intently search mine.
“That’s not an option.” He dips his head and my legs wobble. It’s taking every muscle fiber I have to not melt into a puddle right now.
Rory’s lips are on a crash course with mine when Edgar barks—sharp, loud, and completely ruining it. We break apart instantly. Both our eyes are on Edgar as he stares toward the door, a low growling sound I’ve never heard coming from him before. It’s like he’s trying to play protector along with Rory.
“Do you think it’s the rabid squirrels?” I tease, doing my best to recover from whatever just happened between us.
“Might be. I better stay the night, just in case.” He winks. “You’d be devastated if they attacked me on my way home.”
His cheeky smile has me all but convinced this thing with the squirrels is made up. I could call him on it and we could start another round, but I’m tired. And not ready to acknowledge whatever that moment was between us.
Rory creates his makeshift bed on the floor again, and I toss down his pillow. The one that smells like him from last night, the one I curled up with earlier today when I opened the back window of my van and sketched in my notebook.
This shouldn’t feel normal.
I pull the sheet up over me and roll over.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
Protected.