Page 14 of When Summer Returns

“I appreciate that,” she said, recognizing the offer as genuine despite his obvious reservations about her return.

Reece settled his sunglasses back on, tipped an imaginary hat to Jessie, and strolled back toward the beach, leaving a wake of unspoken questions behind him.

“Well, that was subtle,” Jessie said once the sheriff was out of earshot.

Luke’s mouth quirked. “Reece is about as subtle as a hurricane. But he means well.”

“He’s checking up on you.” She recognized the protective instinct—had seen it in her own friends when she’d ventured back into dating after a particularly bad breakup. “Making sure the prodigal partner isn’t going to cause problems.”

“Can you blame him?” The question contained no accusation, just simple curiosity.

Jessie considered for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I can’t. He always was fiercely loyal.” She watched Reece’s retreating figure—the confident stride so different from the cocky swagger of the boy who’d once led half the island’s teenagers into various forms of mischief. “When did he become sheriff? That’s quite a plot twist.”

Luke’s expression softened into something like fondness. “About six years ago. County election. Ran unopposed after old Sheriff Biggs retired.”

“Reece Wells. A lawman.” She shook her head in wonder. “Wasn’t he the one who blew up the science lab in tenth grade?”

“Technically, we both did.” Luke’s grin was quick and reminiscent. “But he took the fall. Said I had more to lose with my squeaky-clean record.”

The insight into their friendship touched something in Jessie. She’d forgotten how close the two had been—more like brothers than friends. Clearly, that bond had only strengthened in her absence.

Before Luke could respond, a stream of staff members began arriving for the morning shift. They approached from various directions—some from the beach path, others from the parking area, all converging on the bar to begin their workday.

Miguel led the procession, his perpetual grin widening when he spotted Jessie behind the bar.

“Ms. James! You decided to join the party!” His voice carried the musical lilt of his Cuban heritage, softened by years in the States but still distinctly present in certain words.

“Just observing today,” she clarified. “Luke says I’m to shadow you and learn the mysterious arts of bartending.”

Miguel clutched his chest dramatically. “The boss is letting you touch the sacred bottles? On day two? It took me a month before he’d let me pour anything stronger than iced tea.”

“Different circumstances,” Luke said. “Jessie technically owns half those sacred bottles.”

“True ownership comes through blood, sweat, and broken glassware,” Miguel declared. “But I shall teach you our ways, grasshopper.”

The rest of the staff filtered in from the parking area—two young women who introduced themselves as Amber and Ellie, waitresses who doubled as hostesses; Carlos, a stocky man responsible for maintenance and security; and finally Tasha, a no-nonsense woman in her fifties who managed the dining room with military precision. Each greeted Jessie with varying degrees of curiosity, their collective attitude one of cautious welcome.

“Staff meeting in five,” Luke announced. “Then regular pre-shift briefing at ten thirty.”

While the others dispersed to their stations, Miguel took up position beside Jessie. “First rule of bartending,” he said solemnly, “never trust a man who orders a Long Island iced tea before noon.”

“What about a woman?”

“Women can drink whatever they want, whenever they want,” he said with a grin. “They’re the superior species.”

“I like him,” Jessie said to Luke, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t encourage him. His ego barely fits behind the bar as it is.”

“Too late,” Miguel said cheerfully. “I’m her new favorite person. We’re getting matching tattoos later.”

Jessie found herself smiling, drawn in by the easy camaraderie. This wasn’t the stuffy formality of investment banking or the cutthroat competitiveness of Wall Street. These people genuinely liked each other, their banter a well-worn comfort like favorite jeans.

The staff gathered around a large table near the kitchen entrance, where Luke distributed printed sheets containing the day’s specials, expected big parties, and announcements. He conducted the meeting with efficient authority, addressing each person’s questions while maintaining the overall flow. It was a side of him Jessie had never seen—the capable leader who’d built this business from the ground up.

“Final item,” Luke said, consulting his notes. “As most of you already know, Jessie James has returned to the island and now holds a fifty percent stake in Seeker’s Paradise following old Jesse’s passing.”

All eyes turned to her, expressions ranging from curious to speculative.

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