Page 10 of When Summer Returns

“Just the juice, thank you,” Jessie repeated, her tone pleasant but firm.

“Come on,” the tourist persisted. “One little drink won’t hurt.”

“I don’t drink,” she said simply. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Something flickered in Luke’s expression—recognition, perhaps. Understanding.

“You heard the lady,” he said to the tourist, his tone pleasant but brooking no argument. “Pineapple juice it is.”

The waitress returned with her drink and took her food order. Conversation flowed around her—locals stopping to express surprise at her return, tourists asking about island attractions. Through it all, Jessie was acutely aware of Luke’s movements around the bar, the way he interacted with customers and staff alike.

She noticed, too, the appreciative glances several women sent his way—tourists in sundresses and locals in more practical attire. The unexpected pang of jealousy that twisted through her was as unwelcome as it was irrational. She had no claim on Luke Mallory’s attention, not anymore.

Her lunch arrived—fresh-caught snapper with mango salsa and island rice—and Jessie’s first bite confirmed Miguel’s praise of the kitchen. The flavors were perfectly balanced, the fish cooked to flaky perfection.

“This is incredible,” she told the waitress when she came to check on her. “My compliments to the chef.”

“That would be Mateo,” the young woman said proudly. “Luke brought him over from Miami two years ago. Best thing that ever happened to this place, food-wise.”

As the afternoon progressed, Jessie found herself drawn into the rhythm of island life more easily than she’d expected. People came and went, conversations ebbed and flowed, and for the first time in years, she felt no pressure to be anywhere else or do anything other than exist in the moment.

Luke appeared occasionally, refilling her juice without being asked, exchanging brief pleasantries before being called away by his duties. Each interaction left her slightly off-balance, aware of both their shared history and the strangers they’d become to each other.

During a lull in the activity, he slid into the chair across from her, passing her a slice of key lime pie. “On the house,” he said. “Still your favorite?”

The simple fact that he remembered touched something inside her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Consider it part of the welcome-home package.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How are you holding up? Island gossip chain working its magic?”

“Everybody’s been very kind,” she said diplomatically.

Luke snorted. “They’re pumping you for information to spread around the bingo hall tomorrow night.”

Despite herself, Jessie laughed. “Some things never change.”

“And some things do.” His gaze was steady on hers. “I noticed you don’t drink.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “No. I don’t.”

“Neither do I.” The simple statement carried weight beyond its three words. “Not anymore.”

Before she could respond, he was called away to settle a dispute at the bar. Jessie watched him go, wondering at the man he’d become in her absence. Wondering, too, at the woman she might have been had she stayed.

The afternoon slipped away as Jessie watched the rhythm of island life unfold around her. The sky gradually cleared, revealing a spectacular sunset that painted the ocean in shades of gold and crimson. Through the western screens, she could see the fiery orb beginning its descent toward the horizon, a daily island spectacle that never failed to captivate.

The bar grew busier as early dinner patrons arrived. Jessie gathered her small purse and prepared to leave, suddenly feeling the weight of the day—of memories resurrected and emotions barely contained. She needed space to breathe, to process all she’d absorbed since stepping back onto Seeker’s Island soil.

Luke appeared beside her table just as she was rising. “Heading out?” he asked, disappointment flickering briefly across his features. “The grilled mahi with pineapple chutney is the specialty tonight.”

“Another time, perhaps.” She smiled to soften her refusal. “It’s been a long day.”

“Stay,” he said, the single word carrying more weight than it should. “The sunset view from the west deck is still the best on the island.”

The way he said it—as if they shared the memory of countless sunsets watched together—sent a flutter of recognition through her chest. For a moment, she wavered, tempted by the easy connection they’d begun rebuilding throughout the day.

“I should go,” she said finally, gathering her resolve. “The golf cart headlights aren’t the best, and I’d rather drive back before full dark.”

Luke nodded, accepting her decision though his eyes suggested he knew there was more to her retreat than practical concerns about driving. “Tomorrow, then. We should probably discuss how this partnership is going to work.”

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