Page 60 of Summer People
Rather than loosening his hold, he grips me tighter. “You heard Eddy. You can’t be left alone.”
Eddy frowns apologetically. “He’s right, Libby. I’m sorry. I’d offer to come over and keep you company, but I promised Lindsey I’d stay home with her tonight since I’ll be off-island for the next week.”
Not wanting her to feel obligated, I put on my best mask and smile. “Of course. Thank you for coming.” It’s ridiculous trying to have an adult conversation while Fisher holds me like I’m a freaking baby, but I can’t exactly overpower the brute, so I’m stuck for the moment.
“Keep her awake for at least a few hours,” she tells him. “If she shows any signs of confusion, call me immediately, and I’ll come over. But I really do think she’s okay.” She frowns at my golf cart, which is definitely not okay. “And no driving for the next twenty-four hours.”
I sigh. “I think my driving days are over, at least for now.”
Fisher grunts in Wilder’s direction. “Can you have Ryder come take a look at the golf cart?”
His best friend grins. “I already called him. He’ll have that thing as good as new for you, Libby. Don’t worry.”
I highly doubt it, but I don’t want to sound ungrateful, so I force another one of my practiced smiles. “Thank you.”
Apparently done with the conversation, Fisher turns and strides away.
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” I mutter.
He glances down at me like he doesn’t understand. He probably doesn’t. The man confuses the hell out of me.
“Go ahead.” I slump in his arms. “You can say it.”
Lips dipping down at the corners, he side-eyes me. “Say what?”
“I told you so.” I sigh. “I had no business driving the golf cart if I didn’t know how to operate it.”
He grunts. “I taught you how to drive it, and I’ve watched you drive it plenty. Accidents happen.”
My stomach does that swoopy thing again. What does he mean he watched me drive it plenty? Like he followed me around? My heart pinches. That’s kind of sweet, even if it is a little stalker-y.
As we continue down the path in silence, I get lost in my head trying to figure this man out. When the brewery comes into view, disappointment rears its ugly head. “I want to go to the brewery.”
“No.”
“Maggie said I’d get a mug,” I pout. I really wanted a mug.
His lips twitch like he finds me slightly amusing. “I’ll get you a mug, but not tonight.”
There’s already a line of people outside the brewery waiting for tables. Dammit. Just what I need. An audience. I bury my face in his chest to hide, and only when I inhale do I realize what a terrible idea it was. Fisher smells delicious. Like he put cologne on. I’m not sure I’ve ever smelled his cologne.
“Did you just sniff me?” He sounds amused, but I can’t see his expression because I refuse to remove my face from his chest.
“Everyone is staring,” I mumble, my lips brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt.
He chuckles, the vibrations working their way through his chest and all the way into my heart. “So? Thought you liked attention, Princess.”
“Not if they take pictures and sell them.”
“No one does that here.” His words come out gruff, like the sheer idea of it angers him.
“Maybe not to you, but someone in town could. Or a tourist. They’d make a lot of money off a single image, and then everyone would know I’m here.” Annoyance mixes with my blood and spreads to every part of my body. Pranks are one thing. An angry Brad discovering my whereabouts has far more concerning implications.
As if he can sense my panic, Fisher lowers his head, his breath warm when he says, “I’ll arrest them.” He punctuates the statement with a kiss to the top of my head. I think. It happens so quick that I can’t be sure.
I lift my chin and look up at him, as if his expression will give him away. I’m met with his typical stoicism. It’s infuriating how easily he can look so devoid of emotion. “You’re not a real sheriff,” I remind him.
His eyes glitter with amusement, though once again, they’re the only thing that gives him away. The rest of his face is as impassive as it gets. “No one here seems to believe that.”
