“Looking hot for the guys is not always my main priority,” I said.
“Of course it’s not, but you still want to make them a little weak in the knees. Trust me, there’s nothing more powerful than driving a man wild. You just get to do it times four.”
I decided on high-waisted jeans and a bright yellow, halter crop-top. I finally have some color on my skin and it looks nice against the yellow. I add a pair of sandals and let my hair hang loose.
Nick picked me up and kept his hand on my thigh the whole way over, sending little currents of desire across my skin. He smells amazing in the enclosed cab and I can’t help but think about being in here with him last time. What we did. How he felt and tasted. I stare out the window, trying to will those thoughts away.
When I get out of the truck and the boys see me, I feel their eyes roam over my body. Anita’s right. I do feel powerful knowing the boys of Ocean Beach are here with me, but overwhelmed too; how do I keep them all satisfied?
They all look amazing, tanned and dressed to suit their personality. Pete’s curly hair dips in his eyes and his loose, torn jeans fit like a glove. The black Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt pulls snug across his shoulders. Justin’s grown a bit of stubble on his face again, the shadows highlighting his jaw and cheekbones. He’s wearing shorts and a light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Whit’s wearing a striped tank and shows off his muscular arms. He looks a million times better than a few days ago.
The bouncer barely glances at my ID, obviously knowing all the guys and waving them in without much of a look. The inside of Dusty’s is pretty standard beach décor. Surfboards hang on the walls along with Christmas lights looped from the ceiling. There’s a long bar in the back and a lit-up jukebox playing old-timey music and a space cleared to dance. We join Anita at a table, already piled with plates of steaming seafood and pitchersof beer. There’s no doubt I feel ushered into a different world—one that I desperately want to belong to.
The bar fills up and the music gets louder. The lighting is dim, other than the twinkling small bulbs hanging from above. Justin and Nick go play pool, while Whit lingers at the bar talking to some locals.
The door opens and a familiar face walks in, well, two familiar faces. Avery and Shay.
“That’s an unlikely pair,” Pete says, eyeing the couple.
“Oh no. Do not let him come over here,” Anita says when she sees him. “You know he makes me crazy. Like, why does he wear that stupid black hat all the damn time. It’s ninety degrees outside.”
“Babe, he’s harmless,” Bobby says, taking a drink of his beer.
“And annoying. He’s been coming in the shop all the time lately asking me a million questions about your mom’s book, your mom,” she glances over at me, “you.”
“He’s asking questions about me?”
“Ugh, sorry but yes. I think Shay’s been entertaining all his ideas.”
I’m less worried about Avery than I am Shay. I’ve avoided her for a few days now, hoping tomorrow at the party is the last time I have to deal with her. Pete notices the apprehension on my face. “Just tell her you’re here for fun—no interviews.”
It only takes a few moments for them to see us at the long table. Avery perks up and heads in our direction. Shay, overdressed as usual, follows.
Bobby, always wiser than I give him credit for, senses trouble and says, “Come on babe, let’s go dance.”
“Thank god,” she mumbles, heaving herself out of the chair.
“Summer! Pete! What are you guys doing here?”
“Introducing Summer to Dusty’s, what about you?”
Avery brushes a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I told Shay I’d show her some local haunts.”
“Hi Summer,” she says, smiling at me. The whole situation feels a little off—why she’d hang out with Avery is beyond me. He’s not unattractive, but she said she has kids and I’m assuming a husband.
Nope. Not my place to judge.
“Well, I promised Summer a spin on the dance floor, so you’ll have to excuse us,” Pete says, standing and offering me his hand.
“You can dance?” I ask once we’re away from the table.
“We can all dance.”
Sure enough, Anita and Bobby can dance, and I’m instantly fascinated by the smooth movements of my friends. It’s a swing-type style but seems slightly varied. It fits perfectly with the music and I finally lean into Pete and ask, “What’s with the music?”
His eyebrows raise. “It’s beach music.”
“Beach music?”
