“You’re right.” He loosens his grip.
I climb off him, and every step toward the stairs takes more effort than the last. He stays planted in the chair, and I dip down and kiss him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Carter says, and his sexy grin nearly wrecks me.
I take the stairs to my room and close the door. From the window, the angle is wrong to see Gran’s bungalow. My lips are swollen, my skin is flushed, and all I want is to go back up there.
Distance is good. Had I stayed longer, we would’ve crossed a line I’m not ready to come back from.
I pull my phone from my pocket and see several missed texts from Fallon.
Fallon
You didn’t go to bed at six!!!
Fallon
Wendy …
Fallon
You’re hanging out with him, aren’t you?
Fallon
OMFG! I knew it! The two of you are totally hooking up! I want to know EVERY LITTLE DETAIL. I am so jealous.
Instead of lying to my best friend, I lock the phone and climb into bed without responding.
The next morning, after most of my duties are taken care of, I make the walk to Sunshine Surf to chat with Fallon. When I enter, the place has that familiar coconut-suntan-lotion scent wafting through the air. Fallon’s playlist thumps through thespeaker above the register, and the garage doors on both sides are propped open so the breeze rushes through.
I’m shocked to see she isn’t alone, which means our conversation will have to wait until another time. There is no way I’m discussing this with the entire crew.
Summer Sullivan sits cross-legged on the counter in a cropped tank and braided pigtails with her yoga mat propped against the board rack. She looks like she just finished teaching a session on the beach. Since I came home, we’ve all picked right back up where we were before, even if she’s closer to Josie than me.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” I say to Summer, who immediately smiles.
“So many people do.”
Silvie leans against the wetsuit display, nursing an iced coffee with a tan that says she’s spent the past week in the sunshine. She and Cal eloped recently, and the wordwifestill sounds strange, attached to a woman who rolls her eyes every time someone mentions it. She’s quieter, more observant, and not from here. Her humor is so dry, the joke is often delayed, but that’s why I find her so endearing.
“There she is.” Fallon abandons the conversation mid-sentence. “The woman of the season.”
“Oh hush.”
“Wendy”—Summer pats the counter—“you look like you’re glowing.”
“It’s my tan. ’Tis the season.”
“Spill it,” Fallon says.
I give her a look that tells her we’ll talk later.
“Oh, I must be missing context,” Silvie says. “What’s going on?”
“I dunno.” I shrug. “There’s a hot guy staying at the B&B, and everyone is trying to ship me with him after he bought me a coffee. He’s nice.”
