“Summer don’t apologize. I’m here because I want to be.”
She doesn’t respond, but her eyes are searching my face. Whatever she sees there, she seems to accept, because she nods, then turns back to look at the water. We stay like that for awhile, in a comfortable silence, and for only a second I let my mind drift to an imaginary place where Summer isn’t Mila’s childhood best friend, she’s just a beautiful woman who I’m attracted to and free to pursue.
But my phone vibrates, interrupting that dream. A message from none other than my little sister, reminding me about dinner this Saturday. It’s my turn to cook and she wants me to invite Summer.
“Hey if you don’t have plans this weekend, Mila and I do this thing where every Saturday we have dinner together. This week is my turn to cook; I’m making fish tacos. Do you want to come?”
Summer mimes looking at something in her phone. “I’ll have to check my very busy calendar.” We both chuckle, and she nudges me with her shoulder. “I’d love to come, thank you.”
“Great.” I stand up and stretch my arms up. “Ready to check out the rest of these cabins?” I sweep my arm out ahead of me, and Summer gives me a small smile.
The rest of the afternoon I keep things light and friendly between us as we assess the damage, and I make a mental list of everything that has to be done. That list is daunting, even for me.
After leaving Oceanside Resort, my guess is that Summer is heading straight back to town. I, on the other hand, am in no rush to get back to town. Instead, I drive along the back country roads for a bit, eventually ending up at the end of a road overlooking some fields. When I cut my engine, the silence surrounds me and there’s nothing distracting me from admitting to myself the glaring truth that I’m attracted to Summer Harris. All the years she was gone turned her into an absolutely stunning woman. Her skin glowed with warmth, even in the grey, dismal light of a rainy West Coast day. Those eyes that were too big for her face as a child now fit perfectly. They still shine like the sea glass she always loved to collect. Her hair is longer, and my fingers itched to take the blonde strands out of the braid she had it in and run them through it.
If she were anyone else, I would be asking her out on a date. But this is Summer. She’s not someone I can have for one night and then move on. She used to be Mila’s best friend, she used to be my friend. I have to remember that. Besides, the last thing she needs right now is any complications. She needs friends.
It’s close to dinner time before I make it back to my office to finish up reviewing some paperwork that I abandoned when I went to help Summer.
Town hall is empty when I unlock the front door. The lights are all off, but I walk down the short hallway to my office on autopilot, the dim glow from the streetlamps coming in from the windows enough to guide my way. I’ve got the big corner office, a perk of being the Mayor of Dogwood Cove. I didn’t ask for this job. My buddy, Reid, is responsible for getting me on the ballot, but I still try to do my best for the town. This is where I grew up, and I can’t imagine myself ever leaving. Someday, I want my kids to run and play in the park, put on spring concerts in the gazebo, sneak ice cream samples from Sweet Scoops. All the things I remember doing as a child. Funny how so many of those memories include Summer.
I turn on the small desk lamp, letting the warm light illuminate my desk. Turning on my computer, I grab a protein bar out of the drawer. I’ve pulled enough late nights here that I know to always have snacks on hand. Being the mayor of a small town isn’t such a huge job, but when I consistently put it last behind helping my sister, dealing with the properties we own around town, and generally finding anything to do to keep me out of this damn office, well…late nights happen.
Once the home screen on my computer is finally loaded, I sit down to catch up on everything. There’s the usual list of permit applications, council issues, and a smattering of complaints about road repairs and services the town needs. Most I can deal with quickly, with either a stamp of approval or a signature. The simple tasks can be done on autopilot, which means most of my mind is free to think about Summer. Her coming back after all this time feels important somehow. In more than just a reuniting with an old friend kind of way. She’s facing a lot right now, and I want to make it easier for her any way that I can, so I grab my phone and dial my sister.
“Hey Mills, is the apartment over the bakery still vacant?” I ask without preamble.
“Nice to talk to you, too, big brother. I’m fine, thank you,” comes her snappy reply.
“Sorry. Mila, dearest sister of mine, I do hope you had a lovely day. Could you perhaps tell me if the apartment over your bakery is vacant?” I inject an over-the-top fake nice tone to my voice.
Mila just huffs out a sigh. “Don’t be a jerk. Yeah, it’s empty. Why?”
“Because we should offer it to Summer,” I say casually.
“Huh.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, I’m simply surprised you thought of that before I did. But we don’t even know how long she’s staying, Ethan. She could decide to just sell the place and leave.”
The idea of Summer selling the property and leaving again hits me hard. That had never occurred to me, but Mila’s right, as usual. We don’t know this Summer, the adult who has a life outside of Dogwood Cove that she might want to go back to. What reason does she even have to stay?
“Still, the apartment beats staying in the motel for however long she is here. It can’t hurt to offer it to her,” I say, adopting a casual tone.
Mila must buy it because she doesn’t call me on my bullshit. “Okay, I was going to text her and tell her to come in tomorrow morning and meet the girls, so I’ll mention it to her then.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Night Mills.”
“Night, big brother.”
Putting my phone down on my desk, I turn back to work. The sooner I get everything done, the sooner I can go home, crack a beer, and eat the leftover pizza in my fridge. And trynotto think too much about Summer Harris.
Right, I don’t believe myself when I say that, either.
3
Summer
