Page 15 of Summer People
He lifts his brush to wave at me, and I give him a quick nod, kicking up dust as I rush down the dirt path.
I hurry past the brewery and tip my chin at Jamie. He waves too. Everyone on this island waves.
As I round the last bend, the Sweet house comes into view, along with Libby, who’s clad in a pink sweat suit and is bending over and reaching beneath her massive propane tank.
My gut sinks. What the fuck is the woman doing now?
Talk about a good way to find spiders.
“Libby?”
She rolls back to her haunches and beams up at me. “Oh. Hi, Fisher.”
As if she got the island memo, she waves. The movement draws my attention to the match pinched between her thumb and forefinger.A match. Near a massive ball of gas.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I glare at the matchstick, the tip of which is charred rather than red. She did not stick that under the tank, did she?
Shit.
She shrugs. “I wish I knew. Cank told me to light the pilot.”
I blink at the match, then eye the tank. “Please tell me you didn’t have that lit near the propane tank.”
Head cocked, she studies me, her ponytail dropping over her shoulder. “Propane tank?” She purses her lips and scans the massive gas-filled tank that she apparently just tried to light on fire. “This isn’t the water heater?”
“No,” I snap. “It is not.”
“Huh.” She giggles, one shoulder lifted.
“What’s so funny?” Jesus, she almost blew herself up, and she’slaughing.
“Do you know what would have happened if the wind hadn’t kept blowing out the matches?” Her laughter continues.
Annoyance bubbles in my veins. Oh yeah, I’m very aware.
“I thought the universe was messing with me, but it turns out mother nature was actually protecting me with each gust of wind.”
Another hard burst of winds blows past us, and she shivers.
Huffing, I grasp her arms and pull her to her feet.
She shivers again. Last night I promised her a coat, but I’ve yet to stop by her house to check in. How could I when my niece woke up and instantly demanded donuts?
“Here.” I begrudgingly set the paper bag on the ground and shuck off my coat.
As I hold it out, she shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’m just waiting for my luggage to be delivered. I’m sure it’ll be here any time now.”
Does she really think United is going to shuttle her bag twelve miles out into the middle of the ocean?
“Just take it,” I grumble.
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, but when the wind hits her, she slides it on. “Thanks.”
I grunt. Shit. The damn thing is never going to stop smelling like flowers and sunshine now.
“Fisher?” Sutton calls from the porch.
Bing lets out a sharp bark, then leaps over the railing and sprints over to Libby and jumps up on her.
