“Warner!” I snap once he’s in earshot.
His back goes straight, and he turns to me. “Ezra, hey, I was—”
“This isn’tLove Island. You’re not here to flirt. You’re here to work.”
His eyes widen, and I don’t blame him. Even I can hear the venom in my words.
“Oh, uh ...” His eyes flash to Summer, who is staring daggers at me. “Sorry. I—I d-didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Summer for being inappropriate in the workplace.”
His cheeks redden. “S-Sorry, Summer. I—I—”
“Don’t worry about it, Warner. I didn’t mind at all.”
She might have addressed him, but she was talking to me.
She’s mad. Good. I’m glad because I’m mad too. And more than that, I want Warner gone. I can’t be near him right now, or I might fire him just because, and he doesn’t deserve that. Not really.
“Someone made a mess in the bathroom. It needs to be cleaned up.” I don’t know if this is true, but it’ll get him gone, and that’s exactly where I want him right now.
Nobody moves. Warner watches Summer, and Summer watches me.
“Well?” I say, finally dragging my stare away. “Aren’t you going to take care of it?”
“Oh. Shit. Right. Yes. I’m on it, boss,” Warner says. He gives Summer one last longing look before hurrying away toward the bathrooms.
Summer doesn’t budge. No, she just keeps glowering at me. I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my head.
I want to look at her. I really fucking do. But I fear that if I take one glance at her, I’m going to do something really stupid, like jump over the counter and show her the real definition of being inappropriate in the workplace.
So instead I turn, ready to head back to my office.
Then I hear it. It’s whispered, but it feels like it’s shouted through a bullhorn.
“You really are an ass, Ezra.”
She’s right. I am. And I want her to keep thinking that. Keep saying it. I want her to hate me because it makes it easier to do what I should have been doing all along when it comes to her.
I walk away.
Chapter Twelve
Summer
“Come on, come on, come on.”
I turn the key in the ignition again, but nothing happens.
“Shit!” I slam my hands against the steering wheel repeatedly. “Fuck!”
This isn’t the first time that my father’s old cruiser has decided to die on me. This was his squad car back in the day, and when the department decided to retire this model, he bought it for dirt cheap because he just couldn’t let it go.
I guess the good part is that I’ve always had something to drive when I visit Port Harbor, but it would be nice to have something far more reliable. If I did, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck in the parking lot of Stick Taps at nearly eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night with nobody around.
My first instinct is to call my father, but I know he’s been pulling a lot of late shifts over the last week or so to give his deputies a bit of summer with their families. I hate that he’s working so much, because there’s no way the stress is good for his heart, but that’s just the kind of stand-up guy my father has always been. He’s always sacrificed for the happiness of others.
I know that Noah and Odette live a mile or so up the road, but I really don’t want to bother them this late. I’d rather call a tow truck thanbug the almost newlyweds. I’m sure they have better things to be doing tonight than helping me. And I don’t have Warner’s number saved.
