Page 22 of Summer People
Stomach sinking, I curl in on myself. “Sorry, he’s the only person I know on the island.”
Kennedy bites her lip. “I don’t think anyone reallyknowsFisher.”
Frowning, I consider asking what she means. Instead, I keep my mouth shut. Don’t want to appear even more interested than I already sound.
While I’ve yet to see anyone of the female variety coming or going from his house, I did see some pictures of a younger Sutton with a beautiful woman around the living room. Maybe Fisher’s wife doesn’t stay on the island?
Again, I keep the question to myself. The last thing I’m going to do is gossip. Lord knows I hate when people do it about me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when two men I hadn’t even noticed before stop at our table, both wearing cocky smirks.
“Ugh, summer people,” Kennedy grumbles under her breath.
My fingers curl around my beer can. I’m beginning to hate those two words.
Maggie beams at the strangers, seemingly unbothered by their status as summer people. “Hello. Are you enjoying your Balmy Days?”
The guy wearing a Revs baseball cap looks at his friend, brows pulled low in confusion.
Kennedy points to his can. “It’s the name of the beer.”
“Oh.” Revs guy shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. The bar doesn’t have many options.”
Maggie’s face falls. When we arrived, she introduced me to her parents, Rip and Annette, who own the brewery. They were genuinely welcoming, which is the opposite of how the vast majority of residents have been.
Chest tightening with sympathy for her and her parents, I step in. “It’s the best menu I’ve seen in a while.”
His friend chuckles, his eyes roving over me. “You drink a lot of beer, pretty girl?”
A low grumble sounds, the growl so fierce the items on the table rattle. “Does she look like she drinks a lot of beer?”
Heart stumbling, I look up and find Fisher, eyes narrowed to slits, standing a foot away from our visitors.
I’m not sure what he means by that, but the guys laugh, obviously finding his statement funny.
Rather than laugh along with them, Fisher continues to glare. He holds the look for an uncomfortably long time.
Finally catching on, the guys let their laughter die off.
The one without a hat clears his throat. “So, are you visiting?”
Fisher takes a single step closer. “Does she look like she lives on the island?”
While both guys smile and murmur about how no, I don’t look like I live on the island, Fisher turns his glare to me. He’s judging me. He’s always judging me. And while I’m not trying to fit in—my mom always saidwhy fit in when you can wear pink?—his tone bothers me.
“So are you staying at the inn?” Revs hat says.
“She’s not.” This time Fisher steps between the men and me, blocking their view of us completely. Then, as if the men don’t even exist, he turns his attention to Kennedy. “You taking Lindsey with you next week, Eddy?”
“Eddy?” I frown at my new friend.
“That’s what everyone calls Kennedy,” Maggie mumbles.
The blonde shrugs. “I’m waiting to see if I can get a sitter on the island. If not, she’ll stay with Wilder.”
Fisher nods like this all makes sense, but I’m left completely lost. Not that it matters. If his goal was to get rid of the guys, he’s accomplished it. The two of them are already walking off.
“You staying for another beer?” Maggie asks Kennedy.
