Page 47 of When Summer Returns

“The outer bands are getting stronger,” Luke noted, stepping closer to Jessie to examine the weather map she’d printed earlier. His proximity sent a current of awareness through her that had nothing to do with barometric pressure.

Since the revelation at her father’s house, something fundamental had shifted between them. Not quite romance, not merely friendship, but a tentative partnership built on shared pain and newfound understanding. They’d spent the past two days working in unified purpose—securing properties, coordinating with emergency services, transforming the bar into a refuge. The work itself became a kind of communication, allowing them to establish new rhythms without the pressure of defining what might come next.

But at night, alone in the guest room while storm preparations continued outside, Jessie’s thoughts had wandered down far less practical paths. Her dreams had been filled with the memory of Luke’s lips on hers that night in the beach shed—firm yet achingly gentle, tasting of salt and possibility. In those half-awake moments before dawn, she’d felt phantom sensations of his hands skimming her waist, her ribs, raising goose bumps across her skin as real as if he were there beside her. The way his calloused palm had felt against hers in the rain had somehow been both innocent and shockingly intimate, awakening a hunger she’d deliberately suppressed for fifteen years.

Working alongside him these past days—watching the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt as he moved hurricane supplies, catching the scent of his skin when they passed in close quarters, seeing the quiet confidence with which he led his team—had only intensified those unbidden thoughts. Even now, with a hurricane bearing down and practical matters demanding attention, she couldn’t help but notice the way his damp shirt clung to the contours of his chest, or how the faint stubble along his jaw made her fingers itch to trace its roughness.

“I’ve divided the floor into zones,” Jessie showed him, grateful for the practical focus that might cool the heat rising beneath her skin. “Families with small children near the restrooms, elderly with mobility issues closer to the exits, general population in the middle. The staff room off the kitchen can serve as medical if needed.”

He studied her work, his approval evident in the slight relaxation of his shoulders. “Smart setup. Reece’s team can maintain order better with designated areas.”

“I figured they’d have enough to handle without adding crowd control to the mix.”

Their eyes met, and that current pulsed again—stronger, more insistent. Neither had mentioned the conversation at her father’s house, the revelations that had cracked open fifteen years of misunderstanding. But it lingered between them, a shared secret that both connected and separated them.

“I should check the generator again,” Luke said, breaking the moment. “The last test showed a hiccup in the automatic transfer switch.”

“I’ll help,” she offered. “Two sets of eyes are better.”

His hesitation was so brief she almost missed it. “Let’s go.”

They navigated through the back of the kitchen to the small utility area where the generator stood—a substantial commercial unit Luke had installed after Hurricane Elise three years earlier. The concrete pad beneath it had been specially reinforced, the unit itself strapped down with industrial-grade hurricane anchors.

“After Elise, I promised myself we’d never be caught unprepared again,” Luke explained as he kneeled to examine the connections. “We lost power for nine days. The only place on the island with lights was old man Whitaker’s place, and that’s just because he’s been running his own illegal power setup since the seventies.”

“Illegal how?” Jessie asked, handing him a wrench without being asked.

“Let’s just say if the environmental protection folks ever inspected his property, he’d be serving time somewhere decidedly less tropical than Seeker’s Island.” Luke tightened a connection, his movements steady and practiced. “The guy’s got car parts from the last five decades rigged into some kind of power-generating monstrosity. It’s either genius or a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Those categories aren’t mutually exclusive on this island,” Jessie observed.

That earned her a genuine smile, the kind that reached his eyes and temporarily erased the exhaustion written there. “Speaking from experience?”

“Growing up here? Absolutely.” She leaned against the wall, watching him work. “Remember when Reece’s dad thought he could improve the ferry’s engine with parts from his old tractor?”

“God, yes. That thing belched black smoke for months. I’m pretty sure half the coral reef is still recovering.” Luke sat back on his heels, assessing his work. “Try the switch now.”

Jessie flipped the control panel, and the generator hummed to life, its steady rhythm reassuringly powerful. Luke nodded in satisfaction, making a note on the maintenance log attached to the wall.

“Good to go. This should keep essential systems running even if we lose main power, which—” a distant crack of thunder completed his thought, “—is pretty much guaranteed tonight.”

As if cued by his words, Reece appeared in the doorway, his sheriff’s uniform already damp from the intensifying rain. His usual commanding presence seemed heightened by the approaching crisis, his dark eyes alert and focused.

“County’s upgraded the evacuation order from voluntary to mandatory for the low-lying areas,” he announced without preamble. “Not that it’ll make a difference to most islanders, but I’m making the rounds anyway.”

“How many holding out?” Luke asked.

“The usual suspects. Old Man Whitaker, the Calloways, that artist colony at the north point.” Reece’s attention shifted to Jessie, his assessment professional rather than personal. “Your father’s place secure?”

“As much as possible,” she replied, the memory of shattered windows still fresh. “We boarded it up, but it wasn’t exactly in great shape to begin with.”

Reece nodded, accepting this without comment. “We’ve got about twenty people confirmed for shelter here so far, probably another fifteen to twenty will show by nightfall.” He consulted his phone. “Maggie’s bringing extra medical supplies when the clinic closes at four. She’s worried about Mr. Peterson’s heart condition if the power goes.”

“Tell her we’ve got a dedicated circuit for medical equipment on the generator,” Luke said. “And the walk-in cooler if she needs to store medication.”

“Will do.” Reece turned to go, then paused. “Luke. A word?”

The men stepped outside, leaving Jessie to finish securing the generator area. Through the partially open door, she could hear the low murmur of their voices but couldn’t make out the words. Whatever they discussed took only moments before Luke returned, his expression carefully neutral.

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