22. Summer
Summer
My heart raced and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I shut the door behind me, hoping Reese wouldn’t follow me inside.
Or maybe I hoped he would.
I shouldn’t have suggested he kiss me. But with his arms around me, my skin tingling at his touch, he’d been too much to resist. Every cell in my body had wanted that kiss. And he’d given it to me.
Letting out a long breath, I retreated to the bedroom. I didn’t trust myself to be near him. Not yet. My swollen lips buzzed with the memory of his kiss, and the pulse of heat in my core was impossible to ignore.
I couldn’t get tangled up with Reese Haven—not more than I already was. I had to keep my heart out of it. Because I knew the truth. This wasn’t real. We were playing house, pretending to be something we weren’t.
And he wasn’t going to stay.
So why did he have to kiss me like that?
I took another deep breath. Everything was fine. Whatever physical attraction existed between us, we’d push it aside. We could pretend in public, and the rest? It was just biology. Hormones. Who wouldn’t feel dazed after a kiss like that? It didn’t mean anything.
Or, at the very least, it didn’t mean there was more between us.
Who would have thought pretending to be married would feel so complicated?
I still didn’t want to face him, so I hunkered down in the bedroom for the rest of the evening. I had an early shift the next morning, so it made sense to get some sleep anyway.
But all night, the memory of Reese Haven’s brain-melting kiss haunted my dreams.
The diner was hopping, but my customers were happy, so I wasn’t stressed.
My comfort at work had been growing as the days went on. I had most of the menu memorized and had sampled quite a few of the dishes so I’d be able to answer questions. The food was good, which was a nice change. Even the coffee was delicious. So different from the last place I’d worked.
I’d learned the names of quite a few of the regulars, and they greeted me like an old friend whenever they came in.
There was an occasional bit of tension between the waitstaff and the cooks—especially in the middle of a rush—but that happened in any restaurant.
In general, my coworkers and I got along well.
And no crappy boss without a soul. That was a definite improvement.
I grabbed a carafe of fresh coffee for a round of refills. It was my first time working the counter, and I was enjoying it. Visitors to town usually sat in the booths or tables, with the locals congregating at the counter, and they tended to be pleasantly chatty.
“Can I warm up your coffee?” I asked Mason. He was a local—worked for the fire department. Nice looking, probably in his thirties.
With a friendly smile, he slid his mug closer. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Can I get you anything else?”
“Just keep the coffee coming.”
“Rough night?”
He shook his head slowly. “My wife talked me into a puppy. Not getting a lot of sleep these days.”
“Aw, puppies are so cute though.”
“Yeah, she’s lucky she’s cute.” He grinned and took a sip. “It’ll be worth it once she doesn’t have to go out at night.”
“Remind me, what’s your wife’s name again?”
“Libby. She’s an animal lover. Even works over at Happy Paws.”
“That’s so sweet. Take your time. And let me know if you need anything else.”
I moved down the line, refilling coffee for those who wanted it. My customer at the end was ready to pay, so I took care of that and wished him a good day. Two ladies sitting in the middle got up and left, and I cleared all the places before checking on my last customer’s order.
It was ready, so I brought it out right as two locals—Stan Albert and Russell Haven—seated themselves at the newly vacated stools. They wore matching Squirrel Protection Squad T-shirts.
“Morning.” I greeted them both with a smile. There were menus at each seat already, but they didn’t grab them. They probably knew the menu better than I did. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Stan said, and Russell nodded.
I got the carafe and poured them each a cup. “Do you know what you’d like, or do you need a minute?”
“I’ll have bacon and eggs,” Stan said. “Over-medium, white toast.”
“Got it. How about you, Russell?” I assumed he was related to Reese, but I didn’t know the precise connection. I’d learned there were a lot of Havens in Tilikum.
“Same for me,” he said. “Do you have any of that blackberry jam?”
“We sure do.”
He smiled. “Bring extra, if you don’t mind.”
“You got it.”
I put in their orders and started a fresh pot of coffee, then ducked into the back to peek at my phone. I liked to check every so often to make sure I didn’t have any messages, particularly about Nate. I didn’t.
Reese had taken him to work on one of his dad and brother’s rentals again.
Like usual, Reese had been up when I’d emerged from the bedroom that morning.
He was always awake before me, even when I was up early.
Seeing him sitting at the table with his coffee had produced a noticeable flutter in my stomach, but I’d managed to pretend I wasn’t still reeling from his kiss.
He’d seemed normal. Distant, but that was typical. And fine for when we were in private. Even if it was a little disappointing.
But what did I want? A good-morning kiss? No.
Okay, maybe I did. But what I wanted and what was good for me were two different things.
It had also occurred to me we should probably wear rings.
They wouldn’t need to be fancy or expensive.
Just bands on our left hands would do the trick.
But for some reason, I was reluctant to bring it up.
Wearing a ring felt like a big deal, although I couldn’t explain why.
I was willing to kiss him—that had been my idea, after all—but a fake wedding band was too far? That didn’t make any sense.
“I think the conflict is intensifying,” Stan was saying when I came out. “Did you hear what happened on the east side?”
“No,” Russell said, his tone concerned. “What’s been going on?”
“It’s serious. Joe saw a whole battalion lining up.”
A battalion? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to overhear most of the counter conversations. What conflict was he talking about?
“Behind the Timberbeast?” Russell asked.
“Yep, right there at the tree line.”
Russell shook his head slowly, as if considering an important piece of information. “I wonder if there’s anything we can do to stop it.”
“Seems like they could learn to work together instead of raiding each other’s supplies.”
“Maybe we should call a meeting. Not the entire SPS, necessarily. But a smaller contingent.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Stan said. “Form a sub-squad.”
“An anti-gang task force.”
“I like it. We should tell Rob.” Stan lifted a finger to get my attention. “Hey, Summer. Is Rob here?”
“Yeah, he’s in the back.”
“Could you ask him if he has a minute?”
“Sure thing.” I paused. I didn’t want to intrude on their conversation, but intensifying conflict? Gangs? What were they talking about? “Um, is it okay if I ask what’s going on?”
Stan shook his head sadly. “Gang war. It’s been going on for a while now.”
“Gangs?” I asked. “I didn’t know there were any in Tilikum.”
“Oh, sure,” Russell said. “Two of them. One started raiding the other’s winter stash and it’s been a big to-do ever since.”
“Back and forth,” Stan said. “Neither side wants to back down.”
“Winter stash?” I asked, increasingly confused.
“You know, nuts, acorns, stolen birdseed,” Stan said.
Russell slid his mug toward me. “Stolen anything, really. They’ll make use of all sorts of things. Whatever they can get their hands on.”
Nuts? Acorns? What the…
“Oh,” I said as it dawned on me what they were talking about. “You mean squirrel gangs?”
“Of course.” Stan tapped the SPS logo on his shirt. “We have to keep an eye on these things. Otherwise they might get out of hand.”
I grabbed the carafe and refilled Russell’s mug. “I had no idea squirrels could form gangs. Is that normal?”
Stan shrugged. “Normal for Tilikum.”
“Who knew? I’ll let Rob know you’re here.”
I put down the carafe and went to the back where Rob had a cluttered office. He looked up from behind a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.
“Sorry to bother you,” I said. “Stan Albert and Russell Haven are at the counter. They asked if they could see you.”
“Of course. Is everything all right?”
“They said something about the squirrel conflict?”
He nodded slowly, like that didn’t surprise him. “I see. Yeah, it’s been something else this year. Pesky squirrels don’t know what’s best for them. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Thanks.”
I grabbed Stan and Russell’s orders on my way back to the counter. Setting their plates in front of them, I asked if they needed anything else. They didn’t, and I was just about to do a round of coffee refills in the rest of the dining room, when the door opened, and Reese walked in.
His black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest and wide shoulders, and his pants strained against his muscular thighs. He came to the end of the counter and slipped off his sunglasses.
The smile that stole over my face probably looked very convincing—a wife delighted by a surprise visit from her husband.
But the smile wasn’t fake.
“Hey.” I walked to the end of the counter. “What are you up to?”
“Dad was hungry, so I offered to pick up his to-go order.” He paused. “Figured I could say hi to my wife.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, making my traitorous heart beat harder. My wife. Hearing those words made me want to let out a dreamy sigh.
“That’s nice of you. Is Nate with him?”
“Yeah. Josiah is there, too. And Josiah’s dogs. Nate’s having a blast.”
“Tools and dogs. What more could a ten-year-old want?”
His smile grew. So did the flutters.
“I’ll go check on that order. Is it under your dad’s name?”
He nodded.
Resisting the urge to fan myself, I went to the kitchen. Why did Reese have to be so…much? So big and protective and gorgeous. And kind of scary, with those thick tattooed arms and the scar beneath the stubble on his chiseled jaw?
What was I supposed to do against all that masculinity? Especially since I knew what it felt like to have his tongue invading my mouth.
The cooks were just packing up Paul’s order, so I waited while they finished. One of them handed me the bag, I added a set of utensils and a few napkins, then took it out to the counter.
Reese stood with one elbow on the counter, his eyes scanning the dining room. His shoulders were relaxed, but his ever-present vigilance was there.
“Here you go.” I set the bag down. “Receipt says he paid, so you’re good to go.”
“Thanks.”
He hesitated, his eyes lingering on mine. Maybe it was just me, but it seemed like the hum of conversation had quieted, as if people were watching us.
Reese raised his eyebrows, and it hit me what he was getting at. We were in public. It was a good time for a little evidence that our marriage was real, and not even a little on the rocks. I leaned closer, and he moved in toward me across the counter.
Our mouths met in a soft kiss. He held there for a moment, gently pulling my lower lip between his. It wasn’t the ravenous kiss of the previous night, but somehow it was every bit as sensual.
He pulled away and a flush crept across my cheeks.
“See you at home.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Have a good day.”
Grabbing the to-go bag, he slipped his sunglasses back on and gave me a subtle grin before turning to head out the door.
Blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality, I let out a long breath. The noise of the diner resumed. Or maybe the lull had been in my imagination.
Reese’s kiss once again left me breathless, but at least our little practice session had worked. There’d been nothing awkward or forced. And if any of the customers had been watching, they had to be convinced it was real.
The trouble was reminding my heart—and my very riled-up hormones—that it wasn’t.