Page 27 of Summer People
“Guess what!” Sutton calls as she drags Libby by the hand toward the porch.
Libby peers up at me, and the bright light from the full moon catches the deep blue of her eyes, making them sparkle.
Heart stuttering, I blink twice. Damn, she’s pretty in the moonlight. Her hair is down, flowing just past her shoulders so it brushes the high pockets of the coat—my coat—she’s actually wearing. It’s several sizes too big, but the vision of her in it has me almost smiling.
Before the expression has a chance to form, I lock my jaw. I will not allow myself to be interested in this woman. I will be friendly and make sure she’s okay until she leaves. That’s it.
That’s my mantra. My mission. But when she shoots one of the gorgeous smiles at my niece, my gut tightens. My body really needs to get on board with what my head already knows.
“Where are you going?” It better not be to dinner with one of the fuckers who followed her around at the brewery last night. Just the idea has my fist clenching at my sides.
Sutton cups one hand to the side of her mouth, and in a voice entirely too loud to whisper, says. “That’s the secret. She’s coming to Sunday dinner.”
“Oh.” A wave of relief mixed with apprehension surges through me. I’m not sure if I’m more or less annoyed by the idea that I’m the fucker she’s eating with. My eyes lock on hers, and my stomach flips. Definitely less annoyed.
But now I have to spend the next two hours trying not to stare at her, forcing my hands not to reach for her.
The breeze blows, and like a hard punch to the gut, I’m hit with the sweet floral scent that follows Libby. A zing rips up my spine, and my instincts scream at me to step close, lean down, run my nose along her neck. Fuck, my every cell wants more of her. Giving in to this feeling growing in my chest would be so much easier than fighting it. If not for one thing: Libby will leave. This would be nothing for her but a summer fling. I can’t fall for her just to lose her. I can’t lose anyone else.
I hold tight to that thought and keep it at the forefront of my mind.
“Kennedy invited me,” she says.
What? I blink. I’ve lost the entire conversation.
Thirty seconds ago, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get the code for the wormhole out of my brain. Now all I can think about is touching Libby. A woman who’s too young for me. A woman who has her entire life ahead of her. Who, any day, will realize that life here is too dull for someone with her sparkle. She’ll leave. And I’ll still be here.
“Don’t worry.” Sutton pulls on Libby’s jacket. “Fisher doesn’t care. He hardly says anything at Sunday dinner. He just eats and grunts.”
I wince. Comments like those make me question why my brother and his wife appointed me Sutton’s guardian if anything should happen to them. Who in their right mind leaves their daughter to the grumpy nerd who is better with computers than people?
“Come on, you can ride with us. It’s way too far to walk.” Sutton heads toward my truck, dragging Libby with her. “Bing,” she calls as she climbs into the back.
The dog hops in beside her. He’s probably just as excited to hang out at Mrs. K’s as Sutton is, since the woman loves giving him the table scraps. Every Sunday is like Thanksgiving for him.
Libby stops beside the truck and gapes at the passenger seat. For a heartbeat I worry she’ll refuse to ride with me. The woman never makes anything easy. Even last night at the brewery, she gave me trouble before eventually letting me walk her home. When she glances toward the dark road again and my heart plummets in response, there’s no denying that I want her with us.
And not just because I’ve been forcefully tasked with keeping everyone on this damn island safe. No, some traitorous part of me wants to hear her laugh with Sutton or even earn a smile myself. Fuck. I shouldn’t want that. But I can’t seem to stop myself.
“There aren’t any doors,” she finally says.
I nod, more relieved than I should be to discover the issue behind her hesitation. “They just get in the way.”
Brow creased in confusion, she tips her head up to look at me. “Of what?”
If only I could explain it to her. Truth is, I don’t fucking know. I’m just repeating what Hunter always said about his truck.
“In you go.” I grasp her arm lightly and usher her onto the seat before she can put up a fight. Because, for some unexplainable reason, I want her with me. I want her driving me nuts.
We’re hardly around the bend when she says, “At least he’s wearing clothes.”
Blue is standing in the middle of his yard, staring up at the sky like it holds all the answers.
“Gramps would never eat dinner naked.” Sutton pops up between our seats, her tone full of confidence.
A chuckle escapes me. I wouldnotmake that bet. If Mrs. K allowed it, Blue would absolutely show up to Sunday dinner in his birthday suit.
“Was that a laugh, Fisher?” Libby teases as I slowly pull to a stop.
