Chapter 5 Parker
Wicked guilt propels me into Oakley’s the minute I’m showered and changed after work.
I couldn’t even bring myself to wait until my hair dried, as my amused mother pointed out. It drips onto whichever T-shirt I threw on before barreling down the steps of my walk-up to fix this absolute screwup before Summer shows up in the next twenty minutes, expecting her future husband.
Only to find her future ex–best friend with a piss-poor memory, begging for forgiveness.
It’s Thursday night, thank fuck, so Oakley’s is busy, tables loaded with people. I scan each of them for options, glossing over the married and elderly men, for obvious reasons. The local guys I know already fumbled their chance to date Summer.
But the joy of a small town means it’s slim pickings in here.
I forge ahead, walking past occupied tables like I’m browsing for a new car.
A luxury car, obviously, because like hell am I going to stick Summer on another bad date.
But by the time I make it to the bar at the back, I’ve come up empty.
Maybe sensing that I’m on the verge of a meltdown, Jim, the owner of Oakley’s, slides a Mountain Dew across the counter at me.
“You look like you need this.” He goes back to drying pint glasses with a towel.
“You have no idea. I’m about to have my ass handed to me so hard.” I take a deep gulp, letting the harsh carbonation punish me. I squint around the pub again for a viable option I might’ve missed.
“Looking for someone?”
“Yeah.” I rub my face so roughly it sets off a waterfall from my hair. “You happen to see a decent-looking guy in his thirties? Big hands, employed, and no mommy issues to speak of?”
Jim stares down at the glass in his hand, and it’s a mark of how long he’s known me, how long I’ve been a thorn in his side here at his bar, that he doesn’t even look fazed by the request. “Don’t know anything about mommy issues, but do you mean the guy at the table by the door? Up against the window?”
I zero in on who he means. Some shaggy-haired guy I’ve never seen before sits at a table for two, typing quietly on his phone.
He’s probably got decent height on him, by the length of his legs.
He’s wearing cargo shorts, which is definitely a strike against him if I know Summer.
But he’s deeply tanned, the same kind of sun Summer gets when she spends a whole day surfing out in Crystal Cove.
“Who is he?” I scrutinize every inch of him. He’s blond but looks athletic enough, which means he has something in common with Summer, at least.
“He came in a few days ago with a crew of guys. Sounded like they were in town training for Surf’s Up.”
Halle-fucking-luhia.
I dart to the table by the window, where my target continues staring at his phone. “This seat taken?”
The guy startles as I pull up the chair across from him and drop into it without waiting on an answer. His gaze floats out of the window overlooking the main strip as though searching for clues about my arrival. “Can I help you with something?”
I cut to the chase. “What’s your name?”
“It… it’s Denny.”
“Are you single, Denny?”
Denny’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Sorry, man, I’m not interested—”
I huff impatiently. “Not for me. Though you should count yourself lucky if I did give you the time of day, because I’m a fantastic date and an even better lay.
” I untuck my phone from the pocket of my jeans, find what I’m looking for, and set it on the table between us.
“Fortunately for you, I’m here with an even better proposition. ”
Tentatively, like he’s afraid of what he might find on the screen, Denny leans over my phone.
It’s Summer staring at my camera mid-laugh—rather, staring at me beyond the camera, as though to check that I was listening to whatever insane story our friend Siena was telling.
I remember looking at her and feeling like I couldn’t not capture that moment. She looked so damn happy.
“It’s your lucky day, buddy. How would you like to treat this woman to the best date of her life?”
He stares at her picture. “Wow.”
“Tell me about it. You interested?” Denny stays silent. With an annoyed tsk, I flick to the next picture on my camera roll: Summer beaming after beating her personal best at the squat rack a few months ago. When that doesn’t seem to inspire him, I flick through the next few photos. “Well?”
Denny’s gaze finds me slowly. “Your entire camera roll is pictures of this woman.”
“So?”
“So, you’re asking me to take her out?”
“In ten minutes, to be exact.”
Denny blinks away his confusion. “She’s hot.”
“Stunning,” I correct. It took me years to finally land on the word that best encapsulates Summer—the fox-like quality to her facial features, with high cheekbones and shrewd, mischievous eyes that tell you she’ll make you pay for every inch you give her and have you begging for seconds.
I swipe away from the picture on my phone—Summer blushing furiously behind her Kindle here at Oakley’s, reading what I suspected to be some kind of blue alien mating ritual. “You interested?”
Denny seems to think on that for a beat—for which reason I couldn’t say, seeing as I just dropped the gift of a lifetime in his lap. But then he’s nodding, and… okay. Smart guy. Another point in his favor.
“Yeah, I’m interested. What’s she like? Is she a good time, or—”
I lift a hand to cut him off. “I’m the one asking the questions here, bud. Do you have a job?”
Denny fingers his phone, flipping it over and over. A fidgeter. Might drive Summer crazy. “I used to be a teacher—I quit to focus on competitive surfing.”
“Good with kids, then?”
“I hope so. I taught fifth grade for years.”
“You own a house?”
“Yes, it’s—”
“How’s your relationship with your mom?”
“I call her once a week.”
I sit back, silently thanking whichever god looked down upon me with favor and delivered me this cargo-shorted Dream Man. “Congratulations, Denny. You just won the opportunity to date Summer Prescott.”
I get to my feet for this next part, using my full height to my advantage.
Denny’s face flashes with alarm. “And so we’re on the same page, I’ll be sitting in this bar watching your every move.
You will be polite. Charming. You’ll ask her about herself, laugh at all her jokes, and tell her how beautiful she is every chance you get.
You’ll pay for her drinks, and dinner if she wants it.
And if I get even a hint of miscreancy, if you so much as sniff the wrong way, I’ll be over here snapping your little neck faster than you can say, I’m sorry. We clear?”
The glass door swings open behind him as Summer walks in. Heads around the pub turn in her direction, making me straighten with pride.
She’s wearing her signature date look, the one with a subtle dusting of purple on her eyelids.
Her hair is perfectly tousled in that effortless, mind-numbing way.
And then there’s that pink glossy stuff on her lips that makes her mouth look that much plumper.
Her soft pink dress is fitted over the body she’s spent years toning to perfection, and she’s wearing a pair of heels I’ve never seen before.
And then she spots me just a few feet away and smiles, and I swear, this girl brings the light with her wherever she goes. It lifts my mood, melts away any of the irritation I’d been pointing at Denny, who’s a little slow on the uptake.
“Stand up. Make the first move, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter at him. He scrambles to his feet.
Summer’s gaze slides onto Denny. She gives him a quiet up-and-down and I do the same, checking again for anything amiss. He’s shorter than me, six feet if I’m being generous, but he’ll have to do.
He extends a hand toward her. “Hey, I’m Denny. It’s great to meet you.” I clear my throat. His smile goes brighter. “You look beautiful.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Denny.” I hold my breath as Summer lingers on the cargo shorts. The corner of her mouth twitches. “How do you guys know each other?”
Shit. “Actually, we just—”
“You surf?” Denny says suddenly.
Summer nods at him. “It’s a bad day when I can’t. How’d you guess?”
“You have a leash tan.” I follow his gaze down her sun-kissed legs to her right ankle, where a band of pale skin sits underneath the strap of her shoe. Denny looks on with more light in his eyes than I’ve seen since I met him. “I’m out here on and off for the next few months for Surf’s Up.”
I think I actually did it. Pulled it off, without a second to spare.
It’s subtle, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but I’ve spent the last twenty-seven years knowing this woman in and out.
Summer’s body vibrates with so much excitement that it gives off fumes of joy.
They lick at my skin, soak in deep, fill me with the kind of intense satisfaction that only ever comes with making her smile like that.
“Looks like my job here is done. You kids have fun.” They beam at each other and something odd scrapes inside my chest, a rather unpleasant feeling I chalk up to that perfume she’s still wearing.
Summer’s takes hold of my arm as I head for the door. “Where are you going? Trinity will be here any second.”
Trinity. My date. Right.
For some reason, the thought of spending the night in this bar—usually one of my favorite places in the world—feels even worse than dragging my ass into work in the morning. Right now, all I crave is the dark of my bedroom, letting me wallow in the pressing grayness of my life.
But I couldn’t let Summer down like that. So, I go find me and Trinity a table.
As far as dates go, Trinity Tate is as good as I’ve had in a while.
She’s… cute.
Into sports, coaches the women’s volleyball team at UOB.
Summer clearly put in the effort when she chose Trinity.
Which is why I’m choosing to ignore the fact that I’m partial to darker hair on a woman, rather than the bright blond strands tickling Trinity’s elbows.
Also, that most sports outside of football and surfing tend to bore me to tears.
But it’s just a date. Not like I’m signing up for a reserved seat on Trinity’s volleyball court once the school year starts.
“And you know what? You should totally come to our games when the school year starts.”
Fuck.
Trinity drops her chin into the palm of her hand, fingers toying with the rim of her empty cocktail glass. She’s doing that thing, tucking her chin and looking up at me through fluttering lashes, and it’s… fine. Cute.
A familiar, raspy laugh drifts over the noise around us. I find Summer at the table by the window, head tipped back in mirth, strands of wavy hair dancing around her shoulders. The way the setting sun pours through the window creates a halo of soft light around her.
Stunning.
Denny is making her laugh. And it’s great. Looks like a picture-perfect date.
Except for the odd prickle of… something at the back of my neck.
This feeling of wrongness I haven’t been able to shake since I left them to it.
Denny’s got his phone on the table, flipping it over and over the way he did when we met.
Even from where I’m sitting, I can see the growing, unsettling number of notifications on his screen.
“Are you okay?” I’m pulled out of it by Trinity, who gives me a dejected look that incites a flood of guilt.
“Sorry, I… It was a long day at work.” I rub my face, willing myself to get it together.
Trinity breaks into a happier smile when I wave at Jim, indicating her empty glass.
“I have to confess something, Trinity. I don’t know much about volleyball other than the gnarly ankle injuries I see more than I’d like. But I’m always happy to learn.”
There. Nice and pleasant.
“At least we keep you busy at work. You’re welcome.”
I nod into a sip of beer as Jim drops off Trinity’s fresh gin and tonic. “Not that I enjoy seeing our athletes injured.”
“Of course not.” Her cheeks flush. “It was a… dumb joke.”
“No—not at all.” Fuck, I’m blowing this so bad. Across the bar, Summer’s fingers meet Denny’s forearm for half a heartbeat. I suck down another long sip of my drink. “I, uh… Actually, you did keep me tied up pretty good last year. The player with the mallet finger?”
The relief in her face is evident. “Cara. Huge loss to the season.”
“I bet. She was almost my height.”
Trinity leans in. “Which is…”
“Huh? Oh. I’m six-three.”
“And gorgeous. But I’m sure you get that all the time.” She’s staring me down, starting from the crown of my damp head, lingering on my shoulders, before drifting as far down my body as she can.
“Sure. Thanks.” I damn near squirm in my seat. Ever since that stupid rumor started making the rounds, it’s been impossible to make it through a date without—
“I hear you live upstairs, Parker.”
Damn it.
“Mhm.” I lift the drinks menu off the table, pretending to peruse it like I don’t know it back to front just to shield myself from her increasingly brazen stare. “What about you?”
Something brushes against my calf. Trinity hooks her foot around my leg; it drifts upward, and with it goes every meager shred of enthusiasm I managed to scrounge up for this date.
“I live in Baycrest. Not nearly as convenient as your place. I wouldn’t mind if you kept me tied up a while. Pay me back for last season?”
Fuck me, this rumor has oozed across town lines?
At her table by the window, Summer catches my eye and mouths, going to the beach. I’m in love!
I find Denny settling up at the bar. The excitement is rolling off Summer in waves, and it’s the only reason I’m able to muster a smile as Trinity keeps drawing lines up and down my leg.
Summer and Denny move toward the exit, with that phone still in his goddamn hand. But then he opens the door for her, and at least there’s that.
My date might be a bust. But at least Summer’s happy.