Page 18 of Holiday Tides

Her neck flushes at my flirty tone, and Summer yanks down the top piece with too much effort, nearly clobbering Don on the head.

“I got this,” Ezra tells Summer, taking the drywall from her.

“Thanks.” Then she slides her safety glasses off, giving me the stink-eye as she strides out the front door.

“I guess we’re taking this outside,” I say to my crew, setting the bags down for everyone else to eat.

Summer paces back and forth in the small front-yard patch of centipede grass, lost in her own thoughts. I slide my hands into the pockets of my duck vest, waiting. When she finally notices me, determination hardens her gorgeous cheekbones.

“Let’s go for a walk.” When she takes off toward the beach access walkway, I’ve got no choice but to follow.

Summer is quiet all the way through the walkway and down the beach to the water’s edge. Since this property is at the south end of the island, close to the park, the stone seawall and inlet are easily visible to our right. Summer turns left, walking on the hard-packed sand just beyond where the waves lick the shore. The mid-day sun warms my neck as we keep a steady pace, the glistening, rhythmic churning of the waves the only sound between us.

“Did you know there’s an evolutionary impulse to be near water?” she begins. “Some scientists believe that’s why humans—and many other animals—have an affinity for shiny things, because it looks like sunlight reflected off water. Our brains interpret shiny as water, and water is important.” Summer gestures to the Atlantic Ocean with a sweeping arm. “Though we can’t drink that.”

A briny salt scent enters my nose as I take a satiating inhale. The offshore wind is producing set after gorgeous set of clean waves, making me wish I’d paddled out this morning.

“Fascinating,” I deadpan, just to tease her.

Her head drops back, gaze drifting skyward as if searching for strength. “I don’t know what to do with you, Nick.”

“I could offer a few suggestions.”

She stops me, one hand to the center of my chest. “It doesn’t make sense for you to be such a raging booger nugget one minute and then a seemingly regular—if not kind and socially engaged—human the next.”

“Booger nugget?” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “What kind of insult is that?”

“Trust me. That word has started many a playground throwdown.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Summer drops her hand with a huff, and I try not to wallow over the loss of contact.

“Here’s an idea,” I add, continuing down the beach. “It’s been a decade and some change since we’ve had a real conversation. Is it possible”—I glance at her sideways—“and you might want to consult your scientist friends here, but is it possible that the both of us might have changed a bit during that time? Just a thought. A real wild one, actually.”

My mouth quirks as Summer stares into the distance, shaking her head.

“Nick.” My name is an exasperated puff of breath as she stops again.

I turn to face her. “Yes, darling?”

Take that, Don. Darling is infinitely better than honey.

“What do you want here?” She flings her hands between us.

My mind races on its own. Iwantto grab her wrists and pull her against me. Iwantto kiss her until she forgets to over-enunciate the K sound in my name. Iwanta real chance to be the man Summer deserves.

“I’d start with cordial neighbors, but ultimately I’d like to be friends.”

“Friends?” It’s her turn for her eyebrows to hit the brim of her cute hat.

“Friends,” I confirm, pushing down the front edge of her hat before walking again. “And I want a crack at fixing your grandmother’s house. It’s one of the few original homes on the island. I’d love to restore it to its former glory.” I pause. “With your permission, of course.”

Summer pulls off her hat to run a hand through her straight blonde locks. The ocean breeze tosses a few strands over her eyes, and I have to bury my hands in my pockets to keep from tucking them behind her ear.

“And this weird renovation fantasy has nothing to do with me. It’s about the house?”

“Absolutely,” I lie. “I have fever dreams about that fireplace. Do you know exactly when the house was built? I’m guessing in 1944, along with the library after Oceana became a naval base on the mainland?”

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