Page 7 of Summer Lovin'

It’s dark out, a near full moon rising in the starlit sky. There are festive party lights hanging in the trees and on the eaves. It’s also quiet—the air calm and toads croaking in the distance. I can hear Pareto and Jules arguing near the gazebo overlooking the pond, even though I can’t see them through the trees.

“I don’t love you.”

“You don’t have to love me. This isn’t about love. This is about creating the image of a perfect couple.”

“But I don’t like you.”

His laugh is dark and sinister.“I don’t give a shit what you like. It’s already been decided. You will marry me, and you will bear me perfect children. You can lay there like a dead fish for all I care while I fuck a couple of babies into you, but you will do your duty or else you’ll be disowned, banished, penniless, and on the street.”

I clear my throat as I step onto the path leading up to the gazebo, my eyesight adjusting to see Pareto has Jules cornered against the railing with his hands gripping her hips.

“Step away from her, asshole.” My fists clench, and although my voice is calm, there’s anger simmering in my belly. I want to knock this guy out, permanently. If he’s put one mark on her, I swear I will bury him so deep in the woods, they’ll never find his body.

Pareto glances over his shoulder. “Who are you?”

“I’m the guy telling you to let her go before you get hurt.”

He scoffs and takes a step away from her. “You’re north side trash, aren’t you? A member of the rival car club her father loathes. Well, your car club politics aren’t my problem, and anything between me and my fiancée aren’t your concern.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Jules, come with me.”

She takes a step toward me and his arm flies up, knocking her backward. That’s all I need to see. I remove the distance between us in two large steps and deliver a fist to his jaw, knocking him across the small octagon.

He kneels on the ground and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re going to regret that.”

“You come near her again, and you’ll be the one with regrets.”

I offer her my hand again, which she takes without incident. “Let’s get out of here.”

We rush across the grass and between the buildings until we arrive at Mercado’s cabin, my truck parked in front. I stop beside the tailgate and turn to her, unsure where I should take her, or more importantly, where she wants to go. “Are you okay?”

She looks at me with almost dead eyes, her normal aquamarine dull and gray. I wonder when that spark of excitement and life she had when we were in high school died. “I’m fine. Just another day in my life.”

And then my tough girl cracks, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Her voice breaks as her lips tremble. “Can we go for a drive?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere they can’t find me.”

I pop open the passenger door and offer my hand. “Get in.”

We’re a few miles down the road when I finally open my mouth. “What’s going on, Jules? What did they do to turn you into this timid little mouse?”

“They took away my freedom, Romero. I can’t make a move without them knowing it.”

“Why?”

She sighs, her eyes glued to her lap. “My father became friends with Peter right before I graduated high school, although he’d been looking for an in with the Pareto family for a long time. The first time I met Peter was between our European vacation and my first day at Meredith College. He seemed nice at the time and asked if he could call on me while I was away at school. I didn’t see the harm, but I didn’t know the big picture. One day while I was at school, Peter saw me having coffee with a guy off campus—honestly, I don’t even remember who it was—and next thing I know, I’m being unenrolled from Meredith and re-enrolled at Roanoke. Any resemblance of freedom I had went away after that. When I wasn’t at school, I had a host of philanthropic responsibilities to tend to in my mother’s absence. My father said it was necessary to maintain the Capo family legacy as members of the community.”

“But it was a lie?” I pull off the highway onto a county maintained back road which leads into the national forest.

“Mostly. My father has been grooming me to be Pareto’s perfect partner—making sure my resume has all the right credentials for a man with political aspirations.”

I notice a sign that says scenic overlook three miles and turn my truck in that direction, praying the road is well groomed. My classic truck isn’t made for these kinds of roads, although I’ll gladly take a chip in the paint to protect Jules.

“Is that what you want—to be the perfect political wife?”

“No. I don’t care about social status. I never have.”

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