Chapter 28
COLT
It was deja vu. I stood in front of the mirror for what had to be the fifth time in twenty minutes, tugging at the collar of my shirt. Too formal. I yanked it off and tossed it onto the bed where it joined the growing pile of rejected options.
“Good God, you’re worse than a teenager getting ready for prom,” Cody said from where he was sprawled across the chair in the corner of my room, clearly enjoying the show.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, it’s dinner with the neighbors. You’ve been there before.”
“That was different,” I muttered, reaching for a navy button-down. I held it up, considered it, then tossed it aside. “That was sneaking through windows and meeting her on the beach at two in the morning.”
“Right, so this should be easier. You’re using the front door like a civilized human being.”
I shot him a look in the mirror. He grinned back at me, completely unbothered.
“What about the light blue one?” he suggested, pointing at a shirt I’d already rejected twice.
“Too casual.”
“The gray?”
“Too dressy.”
“The white?”
“Makes me look like I’m going to a yacht club.”
Cody let out a dramatic sigh and pushed himself up from the chair. He walked over to my closet and started rifling through it. “You know what your problem is?”
“Yep, I have too many fucking brothers.”
“You’re overthinking it.” He pulled out a dark green henley and held it up. “This. Simple. Fits you well. Brings out your eyes, which I’m sure she’ll appreciate.”
I stared at the shirt. It was perfect, which annoyed me because Cody was right. “Do guys wear shirts that bring out their eyes?”
“Yes.”
I pulled the henley on and paired it with dark jeans. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to see what she would see. I didn’t want to look like a rich prick. I also didn’t want to look like I rolled out of bed and threw on whatever smelled the best.
“You look good,” Cody said. There wasn’t any teasing in his voice. “Stop spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “She invited you to family dinner. That’s a good sign. She wouldn’t do that if she didn’t want you there.”
I nodded, trying to convince myself he was right. I checked my watch. Four forty-five. I had ten minutes to walk next door. Plenty of time. I took a breath and headed for the door.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Cody called after me.
I stopped in the hallway and turned back. “What?”
He was holding up the bottle of sparkling cider I’d bought specifically for tonight. I couldn’t show up with nothing. A bottle of wine was the go-to. But since that was off-limits, I had to get creative.
“You really are stressing out about this,” he said.
I walked back and grabbed the bottle from him. “Thanks.”
“Sure you don’t want to change again? Maybe the pink polo? Really make a statement?”
“I will murder you in your sleep.”
He reached out and pinched both my cheeks like I was five years old. “Have a good date, sweetie. Don’t stay out too late.”
I had half a mind to knee him in the nuts but resisted. Instead, I shoved him backward and headed for the stairs.
“Use protection!” he called after me.
“There will be children present,” I shot back.
His laughter followed me all the way down the stairs and out the back door. I was a nervous fucking wreck. Worse than being seventeen and picking up my prom date with her father standing on the porch with a shotgun.
I could do this. It was just dinner.
I walked past the Mercedes on my way out of the garage and made myself look at it. The long, ugly scratch caught the late afternoon light and glittered like a scar. Someone had put real anger into that gouge. You could feel the rage in it. I did feel it, which was why I was done with the project.
Judd wasn’t finished. The war was just getting started. It was sure to be a long, drawn-out battle, but I would deal with it later. Tonight was mine.
I knocked and stepped back. The door swung open and the small human tornado that was Ocean Banks nearly took me out at the knees.
He pulled up short when he saw it was me. “You’re back,” he said.
“I am.”
“You’re going to eat dinner with us?”
“That’s the plan.”
“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 other jewelry. 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.”
He nodded slowly. “You think it’s going to work? Getting the others out?”
“I think there’s a real chance,” I said. “Some of them were already nervous after the protest. The vandalism didn’t help the optics for anyone. Nobody wants to be the face of a story about rich outsiders destroying a beloved coastal community. That’s a bad look in any industry.”
“It’s a bad look because that’s what it is,” he said.
“Yes sir,” I said. “It is.”
He looked at me like he was trying to decide if he believed me. I didn’t flinch.
“I don’t blame you personally,” he said finally. “I know how these things go. Someone finds an opportunity and they run right over it. They don’t always stop to look at what’s underneath their feet while they’re running.” He paused. “But I’m glad you stopped.”
“So am I,” I said.
Becca appeared at the sliding door with a fresh pitcher and refilled everyone’s drinks.
She dropped back into her chair. The conversation shifted to easier things.
Gideon asked about the Anderson ranch in Texas, something I could talk about all day.
I told him about the land and the way it looked in the early morning before the heat baked everything and everyone. The cattle. The Texas sky at sunset.
“Summer’s mother loved the idea of Texas,” he said.
He smiled at whatever memory had surfaced.
“She never went. We always talked about taking a road trip. San Francisco to Austin, see everything in between.” He shook his head, still smiling.
“We had a list as long as my arm of things we were going to do someday.”
“Dad,” Summer said softly.
“No, it’s alright.” He looked at her with a tender smile.
“I like talking about her. She’d be furious if we all sat around being sad.
” He looked out toward the water. “She planted herself in front of this beach like a wall. Any time someone came around with a big idea about development under the guise of improving things, she was the first one on the phone. The first one at the meeting. She would fight anyone.”
He paused, his thumb moving along the rim of his glass as he smiled down at the liquid.
“She used to say the beach doesn’t belong to whoever has the most money. It belongs to whoever loves it the most.” He chuckled quietly. “She meant it literally. She would have stood on that sand and argued the point with God himself if she had to.”
“She would have,” Becca agreed.
I looked at Summer. I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, but her eyes were saying, see, like I had to understand where her fight came from.
And I did. I wanted to be a part of her fight.