I guffawed. Mimi, always with her eye on the prize.
“I have a boyfriend, Mimi.”
“It’s just a glass of water, Val,” she sang as she walked into the living room.
I shook my head and entered the kitchen.
Water in hand, I stood at the top of the steps and watched him cutting the boards at the back of his truck. Sweat glistened on his bare, sculpted back, and his abs flexed each time he brought down the saw.
When he turned the saw off, he caught me staring.
“Enjoying the view?” He removed his safety glasses, and a smug smirk took over his face.
Shoot.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and trained my gaze to Mimi’s neighbor’s house across the street. “Eh, it’s just the same street and houses as it’s been for thirty years. I like it, though.”
He shook his head, seeing right through me, but he let me get away with it.
“I came out to bring you some water.”
“Thank you.” He set down the boards in the grass and leaned over the treacherous stairs to take it. His rough fingers brushed mine as he closed his hand around the glass. The spot on my fingers where he’d touched me tingled after I drew my hand away. It took all of my self-control not to watch him drink it.
I left through the side door when it was time to go get Lunafrom sailing. Wallet in my hand, I was pulling out a couple fifty-dollar bills when Luke said, “Don’t even think about it.”
I didn’t realize he’d even seen me, let alone my wallet. “But I feel bad, it took your whole afternoon. You could have been doing something else.”
“I didn’t have anything pressing today, and besides, I like getting out from behind the desk sometimes.”
I opened my mouth to object, to insist that I at least pay for the materials, when he added, “Seriously, Val. Donottry to pay me.” His tone was low and final. I pushed the bills back into my wallet and shivered despite the heat.
“Fine. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A small, victorious smile appeared under his dark beard.
“See you at home?” I asked as I walked toward my bike. “I mean, your house,” I corrected myself quickly.
He nodded, staring at me, face unreadable. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “I’ll be back shortly. Just finishing this and checking on one more site.”
I waved and swung my leg over my bike, letting out my breath when I sat down.
That was quite the slip.
24
Sunday night, July 14. The night before my scheduled return-to-work date.
Max and I were at dinner at the Edgartown Yacht Club, this time just the two of us. The dining room had windows on all three sides, usually offering endless water views and a sea breeze, but today it was gray and stormy outside. Wood floors and paneling, blue and white wicker chairs, vintage ships’ wheels hanging on the few walls that weren’t comprised of windows—it was incredibly well-kept, but the old-fashioned, nautical vibe of this club hadn’t changed since my earliest memories. That was probably why the long-time summer islanders loved it. Subtle, old-money elegance. And apparently, the only place a famous author could go to dinner.
Max had just returned from New York, and I’d barely seen him since the holiday weekend. It felt like more than just time had separated us over the last ten days, and I knew closing the gap would involve telling him I’d made up my mind that I wouldn’t be going back to work tomorrow. But first, I needed a drink.
“I’m sorry I missed dinner with your friends when they were here over the Fourth,” I said.
“It’s okay.” Max reached for my hand on the white-clothedtable. His blue eyes were soft, like he really didn’t mind. I was about to let out my breath when he added, “We can see them whenever in the city.”
I gulped a sip of my Cosmo, my stomach turning over. The martini glass landed half on, half off the coaster when I placed it back down, and I had to fist the entire stem with my free hand to stop it from tipping over. I’d told him I hadn’t made up my mind about going back, hadn’t I?
The scraping of cutlery against plates at the tables surrounding ours sounded like nails on a chalkboard as Max’s eyes narrowed on me, like he understood something I hadn’t said.
