One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  She went along the grassy width between the hedge and the house, knelt by the door, and peered in through the gap. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. But there, in the seat of an old child’s kayak, on top of a worn plaid rug, snuggled Velvet and a litter of three—wait, four—kittens. She looked at Jacinda, newly serious in her role as mama.

  “Hey, you,” Jacinda said softly. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  Velvet blinked, unmoved, and then started to wash the nearest fuzzy kitten. She obviously had more important things to think about.

  “You can’t stay under here, you know.”

  She tried to push the door farther in. She could gather them all up in the rug, probably, and carry them back to Nana Mac’s luxury cat nest. But the metal hinge was stiff with age and salt air, and the door itself had warped. She shoved harder, turned her shoulders sideways, and angled herself through. There! Halfway in. Now the rest of her.

  But having allowed her top half through, the door settled back to its original spot, pressing tightly against her waist. She gritted her teeth as it scraped against her sunburned back, the thin fabric of her t-shirt no protection at all. Hell, that hurt. But, no big deal—all she had to do was shuffle back out again. She reached around, intending to shove the door open the way she had before, but from this angle she couldn’t get a proper grip of it, let alone any kind of leverage. She struggled for a few minutes, fighting the panicky feeling rising in her chest. The air was cool and dank in her lungs, but behind her the sun was hot on her bare legs, still red from her accidental beach nap. The last thing she needed was more sunburn. She resumed wriggling and struggling—she had to get out.

  Then there was a drift of a breeze, and for a second, she appreciated the cool relief on her legs…until she realized how far up that cool breeze was traveling. She instantly stopped still. Oh, God—her denim mini had ridden up, exposing her underwear to the light of day. And with her front half trapped, there was no way to reach behind and pull it down.

  She rested her elbows on the cold dirt, defeated, and tried not to think about spiders, or whether she’d starve to death before she was discovered, or who would be the person to do the discovering. There was no joy in knowing that Liam Ward would probably be that person. And that she was wearing bright red, lacy panties.

  “This is your fault,” she told Velvet, who’d been watching the show with interest. But the cat stretched in the rug bed and closed her eyes, blissing out as her kittens nursed. Jacinda closed her eyes too. She might be here a while, and she didn’t want to see what other company she might have in the half-dark. The only thing left to do was wait…

  “Lost something?”

  She jolted up at the sound of his voice, half relieved, half awash with embarrassment.

  “Yes. But I found it.”

  There was silence from behind her. He’d better not be looking at her butt…but she’d bet good money that he was.

  “I wonder how many retweets this photo would get.”

  He was.

  “Don’t. Even.” Her own voice held the chill of death, which right now she’d happily administer with her bare hands….if she ever got out of here. But he laughed. And yes, there was a ring of satisfaction in the sound.

  She gritted her teeth. “Just help me.” When he said nothing, she begrudgingly added, “Please.”

  She felt him kneel behind her, so close to the red lace panties and her raised bottom…and despite the circumstances, a shock of lust darted through her body.

  “Not like that!” She flinched away as far as she could—which wasn’t far. No way was she letting that sensation get a hold.

  “I can’t reach otherwise,” he said. “You’re in the way.”

  Damn, he was right. “Fine.”

  He reached over the top of her back to push at the door, his hips pressing against her raised bottom, and she closed her eyes again. Thank God he couldn’t see her face right now—she was pretty sure it would totally give away her body’s betrayal. She tried to twist away from him, but at the same time he gave the door a powerful push-and-pull, and their combined movement only made them grind together in a spectacularly inappropriate way.

  “Okay, maybe not,” he said, pulling back sharply.

  There was a moment’s silence, during which she was acutely aware of the view he must have.

  “This is awkward,” she said, stating the painfully obvious.

  “Yeah.” She heard him stand up. “I’ll get a screwdriver and take the hinges off.”

  “That’d be good.”

  Within a minute or two he was back, and within five minutes he had the rusty old hinges unscrewed, and the door off. She backed out, tugging down her skirt and dusting off the dirt as she stood up. Mercifully, he had a shirt on this time.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  As they stood on the grass, Velvet came wandering out and wound around Jacinda’s ankles, unaware of the fuss she’d caused and the tension that surged between them.

  “That’s what you lost?” Liam asked.

  “Yeah. Her kittens are in there. I’ll take them back to Nana Mac’s place.”

  Velvet went to rub against him, and he bent to pat her, his face passing close to Jacinda’s bare legs in the mini. As if suddenly realizing it, he stood up abruptly. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” she echoed.

  She ran a hand through her hair, feeling a spiderweb tangle in her fingers. Just get the kittens, get back over the fence, and be done with it. It was only a couple of hours ago that they’d slammed into their past, and at this point there was nothing more she wanted to say, or hear.

  But neither of them moved.

  The rays of the sun were making her skin tingle with heat, but that other kind of heat was making her tingle in an entirely different way. Below the sound of the cicadas singing, the silence between them was palpable.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said, aiming for briskness to counteract her rising desire. “And thanks again. I’ll let you get back to…whatever you were doing.” She had no idea what he was doing here in Sweet Breeze Bay.

  But still he stood there, looking at her. She shifted her weight and bit her lip, thrown. She hadn’t bargained on any of this—on him being here, or the effect he had on her. And back in the physical territory of the past, with the shock of Ethan’s death still fresh, she was in danger of slipping into the old doubts she’d worked so hard to leave behind…

  Realizing what was happening gave her the clarity to remember anew. She wasn’t that teenager anymore. She was Jacinda, a grown woman, and she was also Cin Scott, strong enough to build a career in one of the toughest businesses around. What had happened here was terrible, but even though her actions were tangled up in Liam’s pain, she couldn’t let him bring her back down. The guilt and regret and what-ifs would have to be faced, but she couldn’t go back. She stood taller, ready to make a move.

  But then his expression changed—the blue of his eyes seeming to intensify, a frown creasing his brow—and in that second, she thought she knew what was going to happen.

  He wouldn’t, surely.

  Oh, but he would.

  He stepped forward…and she didn’t step away.

  The rush of the ocean, just over the hedge, was nothing compared to the rush of sensation that hit her as their lips met. All the wrongness of it was swamped by an irresistible charge of lust and exhilaration. For a few moments she lost all her bearings, any thoughts of who she was, or had been, or might be, gone. There was only him, his mouth insistent against hers, his fingers holding her chin, his body so close, but not quite touching. She let her lips part, and as the kiss crossed that line into blurry, desperate need, their tongues found each other, and he pressed his body to hers. With her back against the house, and her front against the hard, hot length of him, she couldn’t stop a moan from escaping.

  At that sound, he seemed to sna
p out of it. He broke away and took a step back, looking at her now as though she’d sprung from some alternate reality. Which, in a way, she had. She put her fingertips to her lips, and blinked in what felt like slow motion as her mind refocused. He’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. Hell, that was so not right. Not right in a way that was insanely good. But…still wrong. And his expression now showed how wrong he thought it was too.

  “I know who you are,” he said. His tone was flat.

  “No, you don’t,” she said, her voice steely again in response to his sudden turnaround. His face was proof of how much he must be regretting what just happened, but she refused to let him see either the way it had rocked her, or the sharp ache it left in her heart. If he’d kissed her as some kind of test, she wouldn’t submit to the measurement. “Don’t you dare make assumptions about a person you don’t even know.”

  “I’m not assuming anything. You’re Cin Scott.”

  Hearing her alter ego’s name gave her a jolt of shock, but she revealed none of it. She couldn’t decide if that name on his lips sounded like an accusation or a threat, but she lifted her chin. When she spoke, the challenge in her tone was clear: don’t mess with me.

  “No. Not here, I’m not. Here, I’m Jacinda. I’m me.”

  He narrowed his eyes, a shadow in the vibrant blue. “You could be.”

  She didn’t stop to ask what the hell he meant. Time to get what she’d come for. She crouched down sideways, ignoring him, and carefully shuffled under the house. Velvet was sitting next to the kayak, so she gathered the kittens up in the blanket, and carried them out as gently as she could.

  When she emerged, there was no sign of him. Well, good.

  Good.

  As she walked back to number ten nursing her bundle of kitteny goodness, with Velvet tagging anxiously along, she tried not to think about the moan that had escaped her as his tongue met hers. She didn’t know why he’d play that game—but he’d got the better of her, and he knew it.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Forty-eight hours. Two days and two nights. Four high tides and four low, up and down like his mood. The high of the kiss; the low of knowing he’d been, basically, an asshole. The high of recalling her instinctive, welcoming reaction to his lips; the low of imagining what his brother would think of it all.

  He tried to work, but kept lapsing into thoughts of black bikinis and red lace panties, her hair soft against his skin, the way her moan echoed the same sound waiting in his own mouth. Then he’d jolt himself out of it, back into the reality of an empty house, a silent summer, an unplayed guitar in the corner, and a history that couldn’t be undone.

  Once, he’d looked out his bedroom window and seen her sitting on the deck under the shade of a sun umbrella, working on a laptop, a lead snaking up to her earphones. What was she doing? He wondered if she was listening to Wolfmother again. Or writing songs, maybe.

  He tried to tear himself away from the window. What did he care? He was only waiting for her to leave. Someone like her couldn’t hide out in Sweet Breeze Bay indefinitely. For starters, someone else was going to realize who she was, and then what? Plus, from what he could tell, she was successful, but still in that almost-there zone, tenuous territory that was always wide open to the next up-and-comer. You wouldn’t think that kind of career could be left untended for long.

  Not that he’d know. His own dreams of a rock star life never drove him on, unlike Ethan, who could totally have pulled it off. Liam might have been the better songwriter—even Ethan had given him that. But even if he’d gotten noticed, by some miraculous kind of luck, his talent would never have taken him as far as Ethan could have flown on the head-turning charisma he was charmed with.

  Could have.

  He forced himself to step back from the window, turn, and walk out the door, back down the stairs, back to the computer. As he sat down, he felt a twinge in his back that had nothing to do with the twinges he’d been fighting in his groin. His entire body was crying out to move, to release the increasing tightness in his muscles. Clearing the yard the other day had reminded him how he missed the exertion of wielding a hammer and lifting lumber. If he stayed cooped up here, the combined tension of his unworked body and the presence of the girl next door would drive him crazy. How long had he thought he could keep this up, anyway? Something had to change.

  Because if it didn’t, he knew the temptation to crash through the hedge and do something reckless would be too great.

  * * *

  Jacinda hit save again, and closed the laptop with a sigh. Half a draft chapter didn’t seem like much of a result for two days of work. If ‘work’ consisted of bursts of concentration interrupted by Spotify browsing, looking through Nana Mac’s family photo albums, and lying on the floor watching Velvet and the kittens, waiting for the first one to open its eyes.

  And determinedly not thinking about the guy over the fence. No, not at all.

  With her sunburn making the beach pretty much off limits, the farthest she’d been able to go was to the shade of the deck umbrella, and she was starting to get cabin fever. So when Riley called on Friday afternoon, she was ready for a real distraction. And Riley had the perfect suggestion.

  “Most Friday nights we pull down the shutters and have a girls-only session after closing,” she said. “Like a speakeasy, only with leftover cheesecake and wine instead of bootleg whiskey. Sometimes it does get a bit messy though.” She laughed. “Anyway, would you like to come tonight? If your sunburn’s feeling better, I mean.”

  “Oh God, I really would, thanks. What time?”

  “About ten thirty. We close at ten, so that gives us half an hour to do the last cleaning up. Caro won’t leave anything until the morning.”

  “Ten thirty will be great. See you then.”

  After Jacinda hung up, she had a moment of hesitation. She’d been bored stuck here in the house while her sunburn settled down, even with the kittens for entertainment. But this anonymity was kind of nice. Once she started going out, she knew there was a chance someone would recognize her, and then everything would probably change. But the lure of cheesecake, and a few drinks with some girly company, was too strong. It sounded like fun—and wasn’t that what this break was for?

  So at twenty past ten, in the still-warm evening, she sat on the front steps and did up her sandals. There was something in the neighborhood that smelled so good after dark—a lush, tropical fragrance, some kind of plant, she guessed, although she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She paused for a moment with her elbows on her knees, listening to the sound of the ocean and the crickets singing their summer love song. The tall tree ferns in the front yard were silhouetted in the milky moonlight. As she sat and listened, and breathed in the sweet air, a small visitor snuffled into sight—a hedgehog, spiky, quirky, and pointy-nosed. She held her breath as he pottered across the grass, pausing to sniff and rootle in the grass as he went. A few zigzags here and there, and then he was gone, safely into the hydrangeas.

  She let out the air she’d been holding in her lungs, and smiled to herself as she stood up.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked anywhere alone after dark. You definitely wouldn’t do it in LA. Or in Florida, where her mom lived. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single place she’d been the last few years, where she would even consider walking alone at night. Maybe nowhere was truly safe, but she felt totally at ease doing it here. The short walk to Clarion Call felt neighborly, even though she was alone. Going past the houses with their windows wide open in the summer warmth, she caught snippets of people’s lives: a laugh, the clatter of glasses, the drifting narration from some wildlife documentary. She felt like an observer of the local fauna herself.

  Her feet had taken her left out of Tui Street instead of right, so she came onto the main street from the end closer to Clarion Call than to the Kelp and King. She could see a few people hanging around outside the old pub, laughing and jok
ing, and in that moment she knew why her autopilot had taken her the other way. When she went past the pub last time, the ghost of Ethan had lingered there, even though she didn’t know he was gone. Now, it was almost too much to look in that direction, knowing he’d never be there again. She wondered if Liam had been in there since he came home. He seemed to be lying even lower than she was.

  Now everything was flooding back into her mind, washing away the idyllic vibe she’d felt on her walk. She turned and grabbed the heavy brass knocker on Clarion Call’s door, and knocked once, twice, three times, suddenly feeling an urgent need to be inside.

  Riley opened the door holding a bottle of red wine, a grin on her face.

  “She’s here!” she announced to the room, over her shoulder. “Someone find a glass. We can’t let her go thirsty, or Nana Mac will come back from wherever she is this week, wanting a damn good explanation.”

  A chair was found, a wine put in her hand, and introductions made, and Jacinda felt herself relax again. As well as Riley and Caro, there was Kerry, Stephanie, Jess, and Tina. She vaguely remembered Kerry and Jess from her last Sweet Breeze Bay summer, but the others had moved there more recently. As far as they were all concerned, it seemed, she was Nana Mac’s granddaughter, and that alone made her a bit special. And she was happy to bask in her grandmother’s reflected glory and goodwill, without the fact of her celebrity (such as it was) getting in the way of a good time with a few nice women.

  There were the inevitable questions about where she lived and what she did, but she deflected them with a pre-rehearsed answer. She worked for a medium-sized record label, she said, but no, it was nowhere near as exciting as it sounded, and she just lived in a regular kind of LA neighborhood. Well, regular if you didn’t count her neighbors in the fancier houses farther up the hill—like other music biz types, a basketball player, and a celebrity wrestling couple. But that didn’t need saying. None of it was actual lying, really. Then she avoided any more questions by turning her attention to Jess—obviously the most gregarious one there—and asking her about the amazing necklace she was wearing. And with that, the topic of her American life was closed—for now at least—as they all enthused about Tina’s jewelry making and her blossoming online business.