“Off limits,” I snap, and he chuckles, clapping me on the back.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m nursing a bottle of beer on a barstool. Sunset Shore Resort and Grill smells like every good night: tangy bar mats and the lake beyond the patio. Its damp breath sneaks in on every gust of wind from someone stepping through the patio door. It’s too cool a night to have the sides and door propped open.
The place is already buzzing. Two stories of weathered wood painted bright, the whole vibe trying like hell to convince you we're in Key West and not rural Ohio. Palm trees in big planters line the property. Banana plants sag in the corners. String lights are looped across the open beams, glowing gold against the dark lake.
The crowd hums inside the covered patio as it always does when Neon Tailgate plays. Baker and three other guys started this band after we graduated from high school. The guy could always strum a guitar and belt out lyrics, but he never did anything with it while we were in school. Now he’s a town staple.
His band is tuning up on the stage, guitars and drums mixing through the speakers. Voices rise, laughter cutting across the music. Metal barstools in every shade of neon scrape against the concrete floor as people shift and gather.
I tune back into my group gathered around a twelve-top high table. My attention snags on where Heath leans against the bar, his golden retriever grin shining. His arms fly wide as he tells a story, one I'd bet my money is half made up, to a pretty brunette and her friend.
“Motherfucker is never going to grow up,” Levi says, his beer raised halfway to his mouth.
“And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”
People cut behind us, clapping our shoulders and nodding in greeting. You’d think it was a Saturday night and not a Wednesday. Even though most people have to work tomorrow, everyone celebrates the end of a town hall meeting with a night of dancing and laughter.
“So, have you given much thought to talking to Wren?”
I shake my head, taking a pull of my beer. “Where’s Auds tonight?”
“Don’t change the subject.” He huffs a laugh. “But she’s with my parents. They wanted to have dinner with her.”
I nod. “I can’t believe she’s wrapping up her freshman year of high school. Do you remember how we were in high school? Hell, I learned my antics from watching you.”
“We were wild. Thank God, she’s nothing like us.”
“As far as you know,” I say, and Levi grunts. “I’m kidding. You’ve done a good job raising her. She’s a special kid.”
“Riggsby!” Heath shouts over the crowd, making his way toward us, the brunette and her friend in tow. “When’d you get here?”
“I’ve been here the whole time, Pierce.” I tip my head toward his friends. “You’ve been a little distracted.”
Smirking, he takes the seat across from me, the girls snagging the empty seats to his left. “Where’s Greer?”
I glance around the packed patio to look for our friend. The heaters glow from the corners, taking the edge off the lake chill. Even with the walls up, you can feel the breeze coming off the lake. Baker steps up to the microphone, strumming the chords to Dwight Yoakam’s “Fast as You” and causing the crowd to cheer in celebration.
It’s rowdy, but comfortable.
Until it isn’t.
I see her before anyone else does.
She steps in from the back side, and the air shifts. It’s hard to breathe. I can tell a part of her feels like she doesn’t belonghere, but leave it to her to appear confident on the outside. Wren Drummond owns every space she enters.
She’s walking in with Greer, both girls smiling, but Wren’s smile feels forced. Apprehensive. I hate that for her. This is her hometown; she shouldn’t feel nervous in public.
Heads turn and whispers start as they move deeper into the patio toward our table.
Heath is the first to notice where my eyes have strayed. He lets out a low whistle. “Well, shit. Hello, Miss California.”
“And the night’s getting interesting,” Levi adds, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
“Don’t start,” I warn, even though I can’t drag my gaze off her.
“Too bad I’ve got to get out of here. School night.” Levi stands and claps me on the shoulder before walking toward the opposite exit.
Wren’s scanning the room until Greer nudges her, pointing in our direction. She says something to Wren, but I can’t read her lips. Her mouth curves into something like a half-smile, half-dare. The years collapse, and suddenly, I’m seventeen again, watching her walk into a bonfire party as if every flame bowed to her.
