Page 24 of Summer People
“Want me to come with you?”
“No. You stay here,” she says, her tone teasing. “I’m sure Fisher”—she gives him a knowing look I don’t understand—“can keep you entertained.”
As she strides toward the loud group, the heat that sparked in my veins fizzles out, and I lean closer to the heater.
“Told you to wear a jacket,” Fisher grumbles as he sets his can on the table.
I blow out a breath and turn my entire body toward the heater so I don’t have to look at his judgmental face. “My luggage still hasn’t arrived, but I ordered one.”
The scents of sandalwood and pale ale surround me, and then I’m engulfed in warm, soft fabric. “Lift your arms.” Fisher’s words are low, his breath teasing my neck.
I curl in on myself as another shiver rolls down my back. “What are you doing?” I say, though the word comes out scratchy.
“I’m giving you my flannel. You’re shivering, and I don’t need you getting sick on top of all the other trouble you’ve been causing.”
A bolt of anger zaps through me. God, the man is infuriating. Even as he does something nice, like giving me the literal shirt off his back to keep me warm, he has to throw in a barb.
For years I’ve been told—by man after man after man—that I’m difficult. Even my father, god love him, treats me like I’m a task to be checked off on his list. Just once I wish I didn’t feel like an obligation or burden.
He squeezes my upper arms, then slides his hands down, sucking in a lungful of air as he does.
Is he…could he be…did he justsmellme?
With both hands, I grasp the fabric and tighten it around me. The urge to tuck my nose beneath the collar is too strong to resist, and I find myself doing exactly what he just did, inhaling the scent of his shirt.
Soap, a hint of something smoky, and sandalwood.
Why does he have to smell so good? Why do we have to keep running into one another? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. And yet here we are…again.
“You don’t have to entertain me. I’m pretty good at being on my own.” I finally turn around and look up, certain I’ll find him glaring again.
Instead, his brown eyes dance in the moonlight, stealing the breath from my lungs.
With a hissed curse, he looks away from me. “I’ll go when you go.”
“What?”
He turns back to me, and this time he doesn’t hide the way he assesses me as he lifts his beer and takes a long pull.
“It’s my job as sheriff to make sure everyone gets home safe. So I’ll go when you go.”
“Suit yourself,” I mutter as I stand and head toward the bar for another drink. “But I’m not leaving anytime soon.”
Just as I settle beside the bar, the two guys from earlier reappear. “So, you have a house on the island?” Revs Hat Guy says. He steps in so close I can smell the beer on his breath.
My body clams up at his proximity. I’m used to men taking a few too many liberties when it comes to my personal space, but honestly, in LA, I was typically too busy to get out much, so I’ve forgotten how relentless they can be.
I turn away, but when a hand settles on my waist, I go on high alert. I’m just about to turn around and tell this guy to get lost when that soap and sandalwood scent hits me. Then Fisher’s mouth is at my ear and his chest is pressed to my back. “Ready to go home yet, Princess?”
Instinctively, my body relaxes. Relieved, I nod. “Yes, please.”
CHAPTER TEN
libby
I waketo the sound of a dog barking, a big smile spreading across my face before I’ve even cracked my eyelids open. I always wanted a dog, but between my father’s busy schedule and mine, we never did get one.
Bing—the dog from the show—was actually Brad’s, and I’m pretty sure he could sense my disdain for his owner.
