Page 36 of Stealing Summer

It was then that they came strolling down the dock—a couple of baseball players I recognized from another team that the Blue Devils had just defeated. It seemed evident they had indulged in both the fireworks display and an excess of alcohol. Their laughter was loud and obnoxious.

“Look who it is,” one sneered, nudging his buddy. “Reese Carrington, playing captain of daddy’s boat.”

“Must be nice, having everything handed to you on a silver platter,” another added, his tone was dark.

Reese didn’t so much as flinch. His carefree demeanor remained undisturbed, but it felt like there might be a storm brewing just under the surface of his calm.

“Jealousy’s a bad look on you, boys,” Reese responded, his voice laced with a subtle challenge that was nearly imperceptible.

“Easy for you to say,” the first guy shot back, taking a step closer, his eyes scanning over Reese’s boat. “We don’t just get handed a starting position either, we have to earn it.”

Reese let out a gentle laugh, unaffected as if their words were nothing he hadn’t heard before. It was that dangerous charisma that drew me to him, that made me want to know the man behind the mystery, to uncover the depths hidden beneath the surface. But for those who dared to cross him, I was worried about what was underneath.

“Must really burn you up inside,” Reese said, his voice never rising above a casual tone. He stood there and I could almost see a hint of a smile on his face.

“Bet you need daddy to fight your battles for you too,” another taunted, voice laced with ridicule. It was then that their eyes landed on me. I had been quietly watching from the boat, with my arms crossed protectively over my chest.

“Hey, look at this one,” one jeered, pointing at me with a malicious grin. “Money sure buys pretty company.”

“Leave her the fuck out of it,” Reese said, his voice taking on a harder edge, but still eerily composed. The atmosphere shifted, and it felt like everyone watching held their breath.

“Or what?” one man challenged, stepping even closer.

Reese’s response was not in words. With a calm that was more terrifying than any display of anger, he began to peel off his shirt, revealing his upper body crafted by more than just baseball—probably hours of working out. The motion was unhurried and deliberate, and it wasn’t until the fabric slid off his arms and dropped to the deck that I saw the moment of realization in their eyes, indicating they had just pushed the limit too far and made a grave miscalculation.

In a fluid movement too quick to fully grasp, Reese moved closer to the one who made that comment and his right hook connected with his jaw. The sound of impact was sharp. The guy’s head snapped backward from the force of the blow, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze—the crowd, the other boats, the gentle lap of water against the dock—all the other noise stopped.

“Reese, stop!” I called out. I should have been appalled, should have been thinking of ways to pull Reese out of this mess, but all I could focus on was how he captivated me. him, his body—the defined ridges on his perfectly sculpted abs, and the deep lines that seemed to trail down and disappear into his waistband.

“Just need a second!” Reese shouted without looking at me, his entire focus on the two trying to overwhelm him. The second one joined his friend in what seemed like a coordinated effort to try to take Reese down. But Reese sidestepped, deflecting blows.

“Guys, break it up!” Crew’s commanding voice cut through the commotion. He and Bailey muscled their way through the gathering crowd. They pulled Reese away and separated from the fight.

“Easy now,” Bailey said, his tone light but firm as he held one of them away at arm’s length.

“Having fun without us?” Crew joked, though his eyes were serious as he assessed the situation.

Reese straightened up, brushing a hand through his dark hair as if there was nothing to see. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a smirk, looking at his friends as the surrounding tension began to dissipate.

“Man, you’re crazy,” Bailey said, shaking his head but grinning all the same.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before it gets worse,” Crew suggested, glancing around at everyone starting to whisper.

“Sure thing,” Reese agreed, his smile never wavering. He walked over to me, extending a hand as though I had been through something myself. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I said, accepting his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. His grip was steady, reassuring. I tried not to think about how that same hand had just been clenched in a fist, how it seemed capable of both tenderness and destruction.

“Let’s get outta here,” Reese said, and there was a lightness in his voice that contrasted the intensity of the moments before. As we left the chaos behind, I couldn’t shake the disquieting thoughts in my head—this man inexplicably drew me in.

nineteen

I walked up the shadowed path to the cabin. It was late, which meant I could almost picture Parker inside, sunk deep into the living room couch, eyes glued to whatever reality show he denies actually liking.

I was intent on slipping unnoticed through the front door. I didn’t feel like talking to Parker about being with Reese today. But as I got closer, I heard the unmistakable sound of laughter, halting me mid-step. And then, the voices grew clearer, and I saw them. Boston and Parker were lounging on the outdoor furniture out front. Caroline was sitting comfortably on Boston’s lap—her laughter was high-pitched and forced. Caroline’s friend, Sam, that I had met briefly at Reese’s first party, sat close to Parker. The soft glow of the string lights above them created a warm and romantic atmosphere, and I didn’t want to intrude.

"Seriously," Parker said, his voice carrying a playful edge, "the girls back at college say Boston here is a golden retriever."

"What does that even mean?" I heard Boston ask, as the others snickered.

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