2. Chapter 2
Mila
When Jared suggested Pete’s Café, my forehead crinkled in confusion.
“Wait,” I say as we push through the glass door, a bell jingling overhead. “Pete’s Café ? Did Pete’s Bar and Grill change their name?”
Jared grins like he’s been waiting for me to ask.
“Kind of. Pete started opening for breakfast and lunch, so now it’s Pete’s Café during the day and Pete’s Bar and Grill at night.
He claims it doubles his profits and halves his stress, but I think he just wanted an excuse to bake lemon bars and sell them before dinner. ”
“Pete bakes lemon bars?” I ask, skeptical.
“You’ve clearly been gone too long,” Jared says. “Best lemon bars in Georgia. Don’t let him catch you calling them dessert, though. He swears they’re an anytime food.”
As if summoned, the smell of sugar and citrus hits me as we approach the counter. My stomach rumbles in betrayal. I might be here for a professional consultation, but apparently my body is here for baked goods.
Ten minutes later, we’re seated at a corner table with iced coffees sweating on the wood and a plate of lemon bars dusted with powdered sugar between us.
Jared wasn’t lying—these things are dangerous. Tart, sweet, with a buttery crust that melts in my mouth. I take a bite and actually close my eyes.
Jared chuckles. “Told you.”
I point my fork at him. “If these ruin all other lemon bars for me, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“Add it to the liability waiver,” he says, leaning back in his chair. He looks maddeningly relaxed, like this is just another Tuesday morning for him instead of the first time we’ve sat down together in almost a decade.
And I hate that I notice. Hate that part of me is thirteen years old again, trailing after Mandy with sand in my hair and sunscreen smudged across my nose, trying to keep up while she walked hand-in-hand with Jared Tuck.
Back then, I had the world’s biggest crush on him, doodling his name in the margins of my notebooks while he carried Mandy’s beach bag and kissed her under the boardwalk.
He never looked at me twice—not when he was madly in love with my sister and I was just a punk kid.
I take another bite of lemon bar, hoping the sugar will shut down the memory.
“Okay,” I say briskly, setting down my fork. “Turtles.”
“Right,” he says, though he reaches for another lemon bar before he gets serious. “Walk me through it again.”
I take a sip of coffee. “During peak nesting, females come ashore at night. I need to be out there first thing, before anything has time to disturb the evidence. That means identifying tracks, marking nests, recording distances, logging disturbances—”
He winces theatrically. “You lost me at ‘peak nesting’”
“You’re impossible,” I say, but my mouth quirks up. “It’s not rocket science. But it does require consistency. Otherwise, the whole data set could be compromised.”
“And if the data’s compromised…” he prompts.
“Then I fail,” I say simply. The word is heavier than I’d like. “This is my first independent grant. If I can’t prove I can manage it, there won’t be a second chance. And more importantly, the island won’t get the protection it deserves.”
For a moment, the café noise fades. Jared Tuck studies me, his expression softening in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“You really trust me with all this?” he asks. “Maybe you should charter a motorized boat.”
“Of course I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he says, flashing a crooked smile. “I almost fed you to a gang of gulls this morning.”
I laugh, the tension breaking. “That wasn’t your fault. The shrimp staged a jailbreak.”
His grin widens. “Fine. I’ll take you out there. But I’m putting it on record—if a turtle steals my paddle, I expect hazard pay.”
I laugh again, but the sound catches in my throat. Because part of me wonders if his hesitation wasn’t about turtles or currents at all. Maybe it was about Mandy. Maybe the idea of spending a summer with her little sister feels like a line he’s not sure he should cross.
“Deal,” I say brightly, covering the thought with another sip of iced coffee.
But inside, my chest hums with a feeling I can’t name.
Because Jared Tuck just agreed to spend the summer ferrying me back and forth to a barrier island at sunrise. And suddenly, I’m not sure my research project is the only thing I need to worry about this summer.