Page 12 of Summer After Summer

“Trick of the trade.”

“But now I know your trick, so I don’t need you anymore.” I can’t believe it. I’m flirting.

He looks up at me, his perfectly arched eyebrows raised. “I have others.”

My heart thumps. He’s flirting too. “Such as?”

“You’ll have to come back to find out.” He steps toward me and takes the twenty out of my hand. He does it in a way that tangles our fingers for a moment, and a warmth spreads from that skin on skin to my chest. Then his fingers are gone, and it feels like I might’ve imagined it. Only the blush on his neck has crept to his cheeks.

He clicks the end of his pen. “Olivia Taylor, right?”

“That’s right. And you’re Fred …”

“Webb. Rental is good till four.”

“I’ll have it back to you before then. Thanks again for saving this spot.”

“No worries.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and lets it rest there. “If you need anything, just holler.”

That heat starts to build again, making my throat tight. I don’t know how to handle it, so I duck away, pulling my book out and laying it down on the towel. It’s The Amber Spyglass, the third novel in the His Dark Materials series.

“It would be so cool to have a daemon,” he says.

I check his face to see if he’s teasing. He isn’t. “You’ve read them?”

“Of course.”

“They’re my favorite books.”

“Mine too.” He reaches down and picks up the novel, thumbing through the pages. “What would your daemon be?” He’s referring to the animal spirit that each character has.

“I’ve always loved foxes.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Why?”

“Only because that’s my daemon.” He hands the book back and our fingers brush again. All of this casual contact is making me feel dizzy. “Team Will or Team Roger?”

“For Lyra? Will, of course.”

“So we don’t agree on everything.”

We grin at each other. “I can’t believe there aren’t going to be any more books,” I say.

“Agreed.”

One of the Dougs or Daves whistles from across the beach. Fred turns and puts his hands up in a what? gesture. The guy motions for him to come back.

“I’ve got to get back, or Dave will have a fit.”

“Is that Dave Dale?”

“You know him?”

I nod. “Keep him away from peanuts.”

“Is he allergic?”

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