Page 163 of Summer Love

“I’m going to call it Cuddle on the Beach. It’s Sex on the Beach, but without the alcohol. Classy, right?”

And he heads back to the far end of the bar, humming.

I exchange a look with Maya.

“I think Miles just moved in,” I murmur.

Maya bursts out laughing.

That leaves only Maggie—and a contract to reprint.

One hour until book club. I can’t show up empty-handed, and I can’t roll in with a bag of supermarket chips.

The bell at the Coral Bay Market jingles as I push the door open. The fridge by the entrance hums. Luke is behind the counter, bent over a carton, a box cutter in one hand.

“Hey, Summer!” he says, smiling.

There’s grease under his nails.

“Thanks again for the van,” I say. “Without you, Jace would still be standing in front of the engine, hoping for a miracle.”

“It’s nothing. The hose was no big deal. Jace really needs that van. With the school, the driving around, the gear... if the VW bus gave out for good, I don’t know what he’d do.”

I nod. At noon, hands black with grease, he was already tallying what the breakdown would cost him.

“I’m looking for something to bring to book club,” I say, changing the subject. “Something better than a bag of chips, if I can manage it.”

Luke thinks for a second, then sets the box cutter down and disappears behind the curtain to the back room. He comes back with a dish wrapped in plastic, a thick layer of cocoa just visible underneath.

“I made a cheesecake and a tiramisu for Chiara. She picked the cheesecake. If you want, you can take the tiramisu.”

He holds it out to me.

“Perfect. How much do I owe you?”

“On the house.”

“You sure?” I ask.

“It’s not going to eat itself...”

I take the dish. It’s cool under my fingers, heavier than I expected.

“Thanks, Luke.”

He waves a hand—it’s nothing—and goes back to his box. For him, everything’s nothing, even when it’s a lot.

I should keep quiet, leave with the tiramisu, and walk to the bookstore. Except Luke was there that day.

“Luke, the morning of Jace’s accident... I heard you and Noah, at the diner.”

He frowns.

“What was Noah doing at the diner?”

“He worked there. Summer job. You don’t remember?”

He rubs the back of his neck. His fingers tap the counter.