Page 14 of Holiday Tides

“I’ll be sure to keep my eye out for this mythical legend.”

“You should.” I tap the side of my nose. “I hear he’s quite a hottie.”

“Okay, time to go,” she says, pushing me out of the kitchen.

I let her strong-arm me all the way to the entry before I remember the displaced window. When I slip to the side to grab it, Summer almost trips since her palms are no longer pressed to my back. She rights herself before I need to intervene, but being prepared to catch her leaves us way too close again.

“You okay?”

A shaky inhale fills her lungs as she nods. I’m about to step out of her personal space when her tongue darts to wet her bottom lip. A beat passes while I’m transfixed by that tiny motion. My brain is screaming at me to back up, but every cell in my body is spiking with potential energy. I drag my gaze back to her eyes to find her watching me in a stunned haze. When her focus falls tomymouth, I barely restrain a groan. It’d be so easy to lean in, to finally feel the softness of those lips against mine.

Summer blinks, briefly catching my eyes before her gaze slips to the scar on my temple. “What happened?”

“Construction accident.” My hands twitch at my sides when her fingertips drift upward as if to trace it.

Her expression turns thoughtful as she drops her hand. “Why didn’t you go to school?”

It’s the perfect proverbial bucket of ice water to bring me back to reality. I lean away, grabbing the window. “Sorry. Personal questions come at a premium price, so unless you’re willing to take me out to brunch at Bayside Table, that’s a no-go.”

Summer crosses her arms. “I can just ask Carol.”

“There’s only so much Carol knows, much to her chagrin.” I laugh dryly. “Let me get some supplies, and I’ll put this back temporarily. I’ll send over Don tomorrow. He’s great with windows and can repair it fully.”

“I work tomorrow.”

“He can lock up when he’s done.”

“I don’t love the idea of—”

“Don’s not going to rifle through your things, Bummer. He’s a professional, just like everyone else I work with.”

The casual use of her decades-old nickname seems to reset us into our typical roles—me smirking at her, Summer scowling at me. It’s good, because I’m conducting a full inspection of this house tomorrow. Anything else in need of repair, I plan on fixing. I just need to figure out ways to pester Summer enough so she’ll let me.

Instead of exiting, I take the frame upstairs, delighted when an annoyed Summer follows me. “Tell me. Does Barnaby really hate Christmas?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

I grin at her duct-tape job before moving toward the second casement window. A low-lying bookcase separates the two windows, filled to the brim with aged, colorful paperbacks, while a seascape acrylic painting adorns the wall. I hum, gazing out the window toward my jobsite. There’s a perfect eyeline to the outdoor shower.

“His name isn’t—”

“Nice view.” I flick my gaze to her, pointedly.

The most enchanting flush pinks her cheeks before she storms out of the room. “Just tell me when you’re done.”

I chuckle to myself. My favorite month of the year just got a lot more interesting.

ten

Summer

“Your next appointment is in room seven,” Ivy, my nurse, tells me the following Friday afternoon. She pauses at my standing desk beside the bank of exam rooms I’m splitting with Dr. Avila. “Let’s hope this one isn’t a biter.”

I chuckle as my fingers fly over the keyboard, finishing out the notes on the feisty eighteen-month-old I just seen. She was not happy to receive her routine vaccinations. Since we usually have the parents hold kiddos that age, the mom unfortunately received a nasty bite mark. This week has been hectic, squeezing sick walk-ins between my scheduled well-check appointments.

“I sincerely hope not.”

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