Chapter 13
It’s Monday and my mother heads down to the campground cocktail party at the same time I hop in the passenger seat of Justin’s Jeep to ride over the bridge to the beach. Pete and Nick are crammed into the backseat, a guitar takes up the space between them.
I love the feeling of Justin’s open roof, the noise of the wind and the sense of freedom. The boys fight over the radio and we have to come to a crawl on the main road because tourists are all over the place.
“It’s weird,” I say suddenly.
“What’s weird?” asks.
“I was thinking of these people as tourists, when I’m one of them, too.”
The boys laugh and Justin tips his head back.
“What?”
Pete calls from the backseat. “You’re not a tourist, Summer. That ship sailed weeks ago.”
“Face it,” Nick says. “You’re one of us.”
The feeling warms my soul in an unexpected way.
We finally get through the traffic jam and Justin parks the car under the house. Pete grabs his guitar and Justin lifts a cooler out of the back. Nick waits and gives me a hand to get out of the Jeep. I don’t need it but I take it anyway, just to touch him for a brief moment.
“I missed you today,” I tell him.
“How was it? Your mom said she didn’t need me.”
“It was rough. And Mom was right, she probably wouldn’t have learned the information we needed if a man was there.”
He frowns. “Bad?”
“Scary.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and I lean into his chest. “Donald Gaskins was a bad man. That woman is lucky to be alive.”
He holds me for a moment, strong and supportive.
I don’t know how he’s aware that it’s exactly what I need, but it is.
I hear the footsteps pounding on the porch overhead and the scent of a fire burning and I’m thankful to be safe—to have these guys around me and not a dirt-bag like Gaskins in my life.
I tilt my head and look up at Nick. He gazes down at me and brushes his nose against mine. It’s a sweet gesture and the longing I’ve had for him since the library flares to life.
“Nick! Get up here and carry some firewood!” Anita shouts from somewhere above.
“One day I’m going to get you alone,” he mutters.
My stomach drops at the intensity of the threat. I swallow and reply, “I’m counting on it.”
Reveling in the weight of his hand, we walk up the stairs and down the boardwalk.
Past the dunes, Anita and Maggie have set up a fire pit, stacked high with wood.
Chairs circle the pit. Nick ducks under the porch to get another bundle and I follow Anita to the table stacked with food and ingredients for s’mores.
“This is amazing,” I say, checking out the spread and the fire that Bobby is now trying to light. All the guys surround him, offering suggestions. I hear a firm no! when Justin suggests gasoline.
“Jesus, you’ll burn your hair off,” she shouts over the guys. “I swear it’s like having four extra kids.”
“Speaking of four, where’s Whit?”
“I’m sure he’ll be along. Probably cleaning up after surf school,” Maggie says.
Sure enough, just as the fire gets blazing and the sun starts to set, Whit wanders up the beach. He’s sun-bleached and happy. It’s hard to take my eyes off of him.
“Hey,” he says, walking past. He grabs a brownie off the table and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“You look happy.”
He shrugs, taking a bite of the treat. “It had a pretty amazing five a.m. kick-off and things kept coasting.”
He passes the guys, bumping fists, and heads back down to the water. One by one they stand, peel off layers of clothing and following Whit.
“I thought they were staying out of the water,” I said, watching them go.
“They’re like fish, they need the water to breathe,” Anita says.
“Something going on between you and Whit?” Maggie asks.
“We’re hanging out some.”
“Huh,” Ivy replied, “I would have sworn you and Justin were getting close.”
I shrug, focusing on the bowl of fruit salad that I’m putting together.
“Although,” Maggie continues, “I swear Nick has been eyeing you like a wolf watches a lamb since you got here.”
“Girls!” Anita says, dropping a pan of pasta salad on the table. “Leave Summer alone. She’s cute and smart and let’s not pretend all four of those boys are probably salivating over her right now.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Ivy hummed. “Four girls and one guy. How do you make those odds work?”
“Plus the Pact. Don’t forget that,” Maggie adds. “It either complicates or simplifies things.”
Anita gives me a sympathetic glance. “Girls, seriously. Let it go. You know how it is. Love burns hot and fast around here. If Summer manages to hook one of the boys, that’s her business.”
“Okay,” Maggie says, giving me an apologetic grin. “But if it were me, I’d never really be able to choose.” She flings her arm around Ivy’s neck and kisses her cheek. “Thank god I don’t have to.”
“Hey!” Anita cries, giving me a wink. “Why does Summer have to pick?”
Ivy smiles and it’s brilliant and wide. “Good point.”
I glance back over my shoulder, looking at the three of them around the fire. Whit’s still up at the house. There’s no chance I’m choosing one of these guys over the other, and if that means I have to burn hot and fast while I’m here, I’ll do it.
“I’m headed up to the house. Anyone need anything?” I ask a short while later, the boys came up one by one, rinsing off and changing into dry clothes.
“Yes! There are a few blankets in the chest in the front bedroom. Can you go grab a few?” Maggie asks.
“Sure,” I reply, already on the boardwalk.
I drank two bottles of water when I got down to the beach and my bladder is screaming.
The house has a traditional feel—not one of the massive new builds popping up all over.
It’s on stilts but one level. The walls are paneled in pine and the floors match.
I quickly use the bathroom, taking a minute to straighten my windblown hair and tug up the zipper on my hoodie.
I’m wearing cotton shorts and a tank top but it gets cool at night on the beach, so I came prepared.
Exiting the bathroom, I head to the front bedroom, flinging open the door. Standing in the middle of the room is Nick, tall, broad, and shirtless. A football player’s body. Oh, he’s also only wearing black, snug boxer briefs.
Yowza.
“Shit, uh…sorry.” I touch my neck. “Maggie asked me to come up and get some blankets.”
I can’t keep my eyes off his body and think about how close I’ve been to it in the car, working on my mom’s story and everything else, unaware of how absolutely magnificent it is.
Dark hair scatters over his chest and then again between his belly button and the tops of the briefs.
It’s like an arrow pointing down and the thin layer of material covering his…
My eyes snap back up.
“I think they’re in that chest,” he says, ignoring my ogling and pointing to the end of the bed.
I nod and walk over, flipping up the lid.
Bending over, I collect three soft blankets but rise slowly when I feel movement behind me.
Gentle fingertips touch the back of my neck, brushing aside my hair. A thrill runs through my body.
“I told you I couldn’t wait to get you alone. I feel like this is the fates tempting us.”
I spin, keeping the blankets between us, and find myself looking into eyes made of molten chocolate. His lips are perfectly pink, full, and the sharp cut of his jaw tightens with restrained desire.
I should say something…anything, but I can’t form words. Nick removes the blankets from my hands and I swallow, eyeing the bulge of his biceps. I want to spend time on those muscles. Explore them. Feel them. I finally find my voice, “I think they’re waiting for these blankets.”
His eyes flick from my eyes to my mouth to my heaving chest then back again. His lips curve seductively and he closes the gap. A warm, big hand slips around my waist and pulls me until I’m pressed against his hard body. “I think they’re going to have to wait a little bit longer.”
I nod, breathless for no good reason, other than having waited for this kiss for a long time now. Nick had been the one to tell me about the Pact, to open the door on the possibilities of spending time with each of these men, but circumstances had left us without the time or opportunity to act.
I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not the soft gentleness of that first kiss.
His lips move slowly, carefully, sensuously, making every nerve of my body a trembling mess.
There’s a raw intensity, like he’s holding back a stronger force but he doesn’t want to unleash it all at once.
I don’t care, because his lips taste like a mixture of the salt from the ocean and the cherry popsicle that dyed his tongue, and his hands make me feel safe.
His heart hammers under my fingertips and a low groan rumbles in his chest. The longer the kiss goes on, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, the more urgent he grows until he stops abruptly and we’re both gasping for air.
“Jesus,” he mumbles, running his hand over his short hair.
My hands shake.
It takes every inch of willpower not to look at the bed behind me.
It takes extreme control to pick up the blankets and clutch them to my chest, a false barrier between the two of us.
It’s like dragging a magnet away from metal, a moth away from the flame, when I force my feet to move, to walk out across the room and out the door.
Warm beach air slaps me across the face, the ocean roars in my ears, and I don’t look back when I hear the screen door screech behind me.
Nick was right. The fates are testing us.
Because whatever was going to happen between us would require time.
Lots of it, and I’m not rushing through whatever it is building between us.
With the sun setting and the fire blazing, no one notices us come back, one at a time, to the beach and take our seats.
We settle in and the boys drink beer while Ivy passes around a fruity punch.
They tell stories and Pete pulls out his guitar and it’s a good night.
A really good night, and for the first time since I’ve arrived at Ocean Beach it feels like everything is moving too fast.