Page 38 of When Summer Returns

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, directing his voice to the bar at large, “you’re witnessing history. The infamous duo that once convinced the entire fishing tournament team that rubbing island mud on their faces would protect them from sunburn and attract the fish.”

“Those boys caught a record number of yellowfin that day!” Tammy protested.

“They looked like swamp monsters,” Luke countered.

“Winning swamp monsters,” Jessie corrected, her eyes catching Luke’s with unexpected playfulness. “Don’t forget the most important part.”

The three of them dissolved into laughter, the kind that came from shared history and inside jokes that needed no explanation. For a moment, the years between then and now compressed, and they were simply three islanders reminiscing about youthful indiscretions.

The pleasant reminiscence was interrupted by the arrival of a boisterous group of tourists, sunburned and already several drinks into their evening. One man—broad shouldered and radiating the particular confidence of someone used to having his presence acknowledged—leaned heavily against the bar beside Tammy.

“What’s a man gotta do to get a drink around here?” His voice carried the slight slur of someone pretending to be more intoxicated than they actually were. His attention fixed on Jessie, his gaze traveling over her with unconcealed interest. “Though with service this beautiful, I’m happy to wait.”

Jessie’s expression shifted subtly, the carefree openness replaced by professional politeness. “What can I get for you?”

“Surprise me, gorgeous.” He winked, leaning farther over the bar. “I like it strong and hot, just like my women.”

“Sounds like you need a cup of strong island coffee,” Jessie replied, her tone professional but cool.

The temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees as Luke watched Jessie’s body language change—her spine stiffening, her shoulders squaring, her expression cooling to neutral. It was a transformation he recognized from their early encounters after her return, but this time he caught something else beneath the professional mask. Something that looked disturbingly like fear, there and gone so quickly he might have imagined it.

“Miguel will take care of you,” she added smoothly, stepping away from the bar.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that.” The man reached across the bar, his fingers brushing Jessie’s wrist. “I’m just being friendly.”

Luke moved before conscious thought formed, appearing beside Jessie with deceptive casualness. “Sir, I’ll need to ask you to step back.”

The man’s attention shifted, sizing Luke up with the practiced assessment of someone accustomed to testing boundaries. Whatever he saw in Luke’s expression made him reconsider, his hand dropping back to his side.

“No harm intended,” he said, raising both palms in exaggerated surrender. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“Conversation doesn’t require touching,” Luke replied evenly. “Miguel will take your order. Or there’s a nice bar at the Cove Hotel if you’d prefer.”

The underlying message was clear. The man hesitated, his pride visibly warring with the wisdom of backing down. His companions, sensing potential trouble, intervened with back-slapping bonhomie.

“Come on, Steve. Let’s get a table. I’m starving.”

With a final evaluative glance at Luke, the man allowed himself to be led to an empty table near the stage. The momentary tension dissipated, but Luke remained aware of Jessie’s carefully controlled breathing beside him.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” she said, too quickly. “I’ve dealt with worse in banking. Wall Street bros make that guy look like an amateur.”

But Luke had seen that momentary flash of something deeper than annoyance—a visceral reaction she couldn’t quite suppress. It reminded him of the brief glimpses of vulnerability he’d caught since her return, moments when her carefully constructed composure slipped to reveal the wounds beneath.

Tammy, watching the exchange with shrewd eyes, raised her glass in a small salute. “Some things never change,” she said. “Luke Mallory, still stepping between Jessie and trouble.”

“Old habits,” Luke shrugged, though his gaze remained on Jessie.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling drunk tourists,” Jessie insisted.

“Of course you are,” Tammy agreed. “But it’s nice to know the backup is still there when you need it.” She drained her cocktail glass and stood. “I should get home before Carlos thinks I’ve run off with the pool boy.”

“Do you even have a pool?” Jessie asked.

“Details.” Tammy waved dismissively. “The point is, I’m holding this marriage together with my constant presence and dazzling personality.” She leaned across the bar for another quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Jess.”

As Tammy departed with a final wave, Jessie turned back to the bar, her movements precise and controlled as she arranged glasses with unnecessary care. Luke recognized the technique—focusing on mundane tasks to regain emotional equilibrium.

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