by Marie Carnay
“Me too.” Mandy’s eyes brightened. “But I’ll be out there to visit soon. I can’t stay here all alone, some restaurant widow while Richard gallivants all over Seattle.”
“Right.” Summer wasn’t about to tell the bride-to-be that it wasn’t her she was talking about. Not then, at least. “Come on, let’s head to the Inn. If we’re going to the spa, I’ve got to change.”
* * *
BLAKE
Blake rolled over onto his back in the hazy morning light. Summer. When he heard she’d be coming for Mandy’s wedding, he’d hoped. Let himself wish. But never in a million years did he think they’d all end up in bed.
Right back where they left off. Like she’d never left. Fours years of mistakes and regret and what could have been. Erased. He ran his tongue over his lips. He could still taste her.
“Wake up, man. She’s gone.”
“What?” Blake scrubbed his face as a ray of sunlight landed smack on his one open eye. Damn it. “What are you talking about?”
“Summer. She’s gone. Must have bolted in the middle of the night.”
Fuck. Blake swung his legs off the bed and his feet hit the tile with a smack. Devin stalked in front of the open windows like a caged tiger. Hunched shoulders, wild hair. Unhinged and dangerous.
“Did she leave a note? A text? Anything?”
Devin paused. “If she had, I wouldn’t be about to punch the wall in, would I?”
Blake frowned. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of how it all ended. The best sex of his life with a woman who used to be his best friend. All for her to disappear into the ether the morning after.
He scratched his beard and tried to focus. “There must be some explanation. She wouldn’t cut and run. Not again.”
Devin opened another blind and stomped over to his dresser. “Why not? That seems to be her MO. String us along, get our hopes up, ditch us.”
Blake stood and hunted down his discarded clothes. He slipped on his boxers and balled the rest up under his arm. “You don’t know that. Maybe she had an emergency. Maybe Mandy called, said she needed some help. Summer is the maid of honor.”
“Then she’d have left a note. Texted. Something. Not just poofed into thin air. I swear, if I hadn’t woken up to you snoring, I’d be convinced I dreamt the whole thing.”
“But you didn’t. She was here. And better than ever. There’s got to be a reason she left.”
Devin pulled out a pair of boxers and shorts and tugged them on one after the other. “What if the reason’s us?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if she doesn’t want this? Can’t handle it? If she’d wanted to give it try—more than just a sweaty memory fuck—she’d have stayed.”
Devin shoved his drawer shut and pulled open another. Blake hadn’t seen him so worked up in years. Not since Ivy.
He leaned on the wall and waited for his best friend to cool down. They needed level heads. Not anger and fear.
“I think we need to give her some time. We’ll see her tomorrow at the wedding. We can ask her then.”
“It’s not worth it.” Devin’s confession came out thick and laced with emotion.
Blake pushed off the wall. “What are you talking about? Yesterday you were Mr. Optimist. So fucking cocky, Dev. Convinced we could win her back.”
His best friend snorted.
“What changed?”
Devin gripped the front of the drawer and the muscles on his back bunched into knots. “Nothing. That’s the problem.”
Blake exhaled in a rush. No way were they letting the weekend go to shit like this. Not after the night they shared. Summer was back and Blake wasn’t letting her go. Not without a fight.
“Can you open the shop without me?”
Devin turned around. “Yeah, why?”
“If she’s going to bolt, I want to know why. And I can count all the places she’ll be this morning on one hand.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
“First thing.” Blake turned toward the hall.
“And Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“Try and win her back.”
* * *
The door swung open and Blake stepped out into the bright morning sun. Salt water on the breeze. A man jogging by on an early run. The perfect day in Midnight Cove. If only he had Summer by his side.
Damn her. The more he thought about her running away, the more irritated he became. Leaving while he and Devin slept. No note, no message. Nothing. Just like last time. He balled his hand into a fist.
Only this time she had to stay in town. She was walking down the aisle the next day. Maid of honor in her best friend’s wedding. Not even Summer would shirk that responsibility.
He beeped the locks on his car and headed toward the black coupe when a beach cruiser swerved into the lot. Sirens wailing, lights flashing, it whipped into a parking spot and screeched to a halt. Shit.
Blake inhaled and braced himself.
A six-foot-five barrel-chested man with a scowl bounded toward him with springs for feet.
He stopped inches away from Blake and pointed at the ocean. “Tell me that is some practical joke. Tell me that by the time I get back there, the place will be filled with cameras, an announcer for some stupid TV show, and a gotcha theme song.”
Blake stepped back. He knew the man would be pissed. But furious? They’d all underestimated him. “Hey, Brad.”
“Don’t Hey Brad, me. I know this was you. Did Devin put you up to it?”
Blake stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. Toilet paper. A whole case of it. All over the lifeguard station. Just like old times, huh?”
Blake bit back a grin. You have no idea. “I can wake up Devin. See if he knows anything about it.”
Brad’s brown eyes burned. “Cut the crap, Turner. I talked to the gas station attendant. He said you and Devin and some hot chick were all in there goofing off like teenagers.”
Fuck. Blake blew out his breath and played the part. “So he saw us first hand, huh? What, did he leave the store and follow us? Spy on us with some cheap surveillance camera?”
Brad frowned. “He didn’t have to. I know it was you.”
Blake sighed and glanced up at the blue sky. Yanking Brad’s chain would only delay the bar. While he wasn’t thrilled with converting their upstairs into an all-night party spot, Devin had a point. They couldn’t just leave it empty. Waiting.
He met Brad’s ire head on. “How about we send someone down there to clean it up? Would that make you happy?”
Brad’s eyes bulged. “So you admit it!”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Right. Like either one of you would ever go out of your way for me. If anything, you’d do exactly the opposite.”
Blake blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I know how it works around here. You check the surf before anyone’s around. If it’s good, you open early before the lifeguards are on the beach. Before we’ve put up the flag. That puts people at risk, Blake. You know it.”
Blake scoffed. “It does no such thing. I’ve lived here my whole life, Brad. I know the surf better than anyone. So does Devin.”
“You aren’t lifeguards.”
“Not anymore. But you don’t forget that kind of training.”
Brad crossed his arms. Thick veiny ropes of muscle stood out in stark relief against his black wetsuit. “This isn’t how you get a permit, Turner.”
What the fuck? Blake had tried to be reasonable. Tried to play the nice guy. But if Brad Hooper was going to threaten him over some stupid toilet paper…He pulled his hands out of his pockets and stepped forward.
Brad might think he had the upper hand, but Blake could hold his own. Dish it out too. He cracked his knuckles. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. Stating the facts. I’m the one who grants the permits. I�
�m the one who does the inspections. And right now? I’m all booked up.”
Blake bit the inside of his cheek to keep from ripping Brad a new one. The man had a massive superiority complex. Damn it to hell. He hated to back down. To let Brad think he had a leg up? Disgusting. But it was the easiest way. If he decked him—like every muscle in his body begged him to do—he’d be hauled off to jail.
Bye-bye wedding, reception, Summer. The whole weekend up in smoke. And the bar along with it. He huffed in surrender. “What if the lifeguard station was all cleaned up? Would you suddenly have an opening?”
Brad raised an eyebrow. “How suddenly?”
“Within the hour?”
Brad backed up and beeped open the cruiser. “You do that, Turner. An hour. If it’s cleaned up, you can have your inspection.”
Blake nodded as Brad hopped up into the truck and revved the engine. Asshole. Instead of tracking Summer down and figuring out what the hell was going on, now he’d have to deal with the lifeguard station.
Damn Devin and his crazy ideas. But it had loosened them all up. Freed Summer to open up to them. Share her thoughts. Bare her soul. And that body. God.
Blake adjusted himself and glanced back at the shop. They couldn’t leave it empty. Not on a day with the wind hitting just right. He looked up at the second floor. Maybe he’d just have to call in a favor.
As he jogged over to his car, he fished out his phone. “Ian? Hey, sorry to wake you up, man, but I need a favor.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SUMMER
STRONG FINGERS DUG into Summer’s shoulders and a soft Swedish accent hit her ear. “You need to relax. Let the tension go. Right here,” the masseuse dug in with her thumb, “is a ball of knots.”
Summer’s words came out muffled from beneath the table. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Well. There’s no amount of rubbing I can do to work this out.”
As soon as Summer shook hands with Alice, she knew the woman had major skills. Her grip could have turned coal into a diamond. Add in sturdy legs and muscled shoulders and there was no doubt. If this goddess of massages couldn’t work out her tension, then Summer was in way over her head.
“You’re sure?”
Alice grunted through a deep pull on Summer’s thigh. “Yes. You’re holding all your stress. Here—” she ran her hands up Summer’s back, “—and here.” Alice squeezed her shoulders. “I can’t fix this. You’ve got to figure it out on your own.”
On my own. Summer groaned as the masseuse started in on her neck. The woman might not know her at all, but she was right. Summer’d taken all her uncertainty and doubt and turned her body into a ball of anxiety. How could she ever think coming back to Midnight Cove would be a good idea?
Summer lifted her head as Alice moved to the other side. “Have you ever woken up and realized you just made a huge mistake?”
The masseuse paused. “No. I make decisions carefully.”
Of course you do. “Well, that’s my problem. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“A man?”
Summer’s shoulders sagged. “Two.”
“Hmph. Don’t let them get to you. Do what’s best for you, not them.”
“What if I don’t know what that is?”
The masseuse paused. “Figure it out.”
Right. Summer closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to get any sympathy or revelations out of Alice. Just a good rub down and a sore back. She closed her eyes and the next thing she knew, the masseuse was shaking her awake.
“All done.”
“Th—thanks.” Summer blinked and pulled up onto her forearms. Now she could add sleep wrinkles and table imprints to her list of problems. Hooray!
After sitting up, she pulled on her clothes and slipped on flip-flops. On to manicures. She trudged out into the next room and Mandy’s voice almost knocked her over.
“There you are! What did you do, fall asleep in there?” Mandy motioned at the empty seat next to her.
“Maybe. Alice said I had knots not even she could get out.”
“Ooh. Honey. She’s a miracle worker. If she says you’re too tense, then you’ve got to let it go. There’s a yoga class at eleven.”
“Funny.” Summer flopped in the empty chair and let out a sigh. “You know I don’t do yoga. These thighs in those pants? No, thank you.”
“Well, maybe you should stop by the art store. Grab a canvas and some paints. That relaxes you, right?”
Summer smiled. Even the day before her wedding, Mandy was still thinking about how to make Summer feel better. She needed to get her head out of her own problems and focus on the bride. Summer couldn’t ask for a better best friend. “Have I told you lately how awesome you are? Because you’re totally awesome.”
Mandy grinned. “Not nearly enough.”
“Now look who we have here. If it isn’t the bride-to-be. Tell me I get artistic license. Wedding bells on your fingers and toes? Say yes.”
“You know it. I wouldn’t trust these digits with anyone else.” Mandy stood up and gave a woman who looked more like a tattoo artist than a nail tech a bear hug. “Summer, this is Felicia. Felicia, this is my maid of honor, Summer Crenshaw.”
Summer stood up and stuck out her hand but Felicia swooped in for a hug. The bracelets stacked up her arms clanged together like cymbals as she gave her a pat.
“So you’re the painter! The way Mandy tells it, you’ll be the next Picasso.”
Summer blushed. “I wouldn’t go that far. At this point, maybe a good house painter.”
“Pfft. Don’t be modest.” Felicia pulled up a chair and her bright pink hair slid over her shoulders. What a force. Between the vintage Clash t-shirt to the nose ring and more makeup than a clown at a show, she was intense.
Summer had expected prim. Polished. Bubbly, even. Not hippie meets punk rocker.
Felicia pulled up a rolling tray of tools and polish. “So what’ll it be for you. Dress color? Style? Hit me with it.”
“Um.” Summer blinked. “It’s simple. Aqua blue.”
“How about something like the ocean, then? Green to bring out your eyes, some blue, maybe a dash of white. What you do think, Mandy?”
“Sounds great!” Mandy reached out and gave Summer’s arm a squeeze. “Just wait ’til you see what Felicia can do. It’s spectacular.”
Summer nodded and gave Felicia a smile. She might not be a typical manicurist, but it was Midnight Cove. Artists and hippies mixed with the billionaires and celebrities every day. Without all the judgment of New York.
Summer exhaled and closed her eyes. She’d probably end up with bright blue nails and green tips. Something garish she’d have to hide beneath the bouquet as she walked down the aisle. But Mandy picked it.
She drifted off until Felicia’s voice startled Summer’s eyes open. “Other hand, please.”
Oh my God. The woman didn’t just trim cuticles and slap on polish. She was an artist.
Instead of a simple paint job, she had five mini-canvases on her fingers. Swoops and swirls of greens and blues and whites. The perfect blend of her bridesmaid’s dress and her eyes.
Felicia had more talent with a tiny nail brush than Summer had with giant canvases. She leaned forward in her chair. “Wow. Where’d you learn to do this?”
The nail tech shrugged. “I went to SCAD.”
Summer’s heart skipped a beat. She can’t be serious. “The Savannah College of Art and Design? That SCAD?”
“The one and only.”
“W—what are you—” Summer clamped her hand over her mouth. In her shock, she’d been about to insult her for sure.
“Doing as a nail tech? It’s okay, you can ask.” Felicia dipped a new brush into a tiny pot of polish and waited.
After a second, Summer dropped her hand and put it back on the tray. “I’m sorry. That was so rude.”
“You bet it was.” Summer glanced up in time to see Mandy’s stink eye. “But it’s okay because Felicia’s a doll.�
�
“Thanks.” With a smile, Felicia set back to work, applying a base coat on each of Summer’s bare nails.
She knew she shouldn’t ask, but as she watched Felicia work, she couldn’t help it. “Okay. I can’t stand it. Why nail art?”
Felicia laughed. “Because I love it here. I get to wake up to the ocean out my window every morning. Paint people’s nails every day. Not deal with the assholes in a big city.”
“Did you always want to do nails?”
The tech snorted. “No. I went to college to be a fabric designer. Thought I’d be the next Tracy Reese.”
“So why the change?”
“The truth?” Felicia glanced up and Summer nodded. “I hate New York. It’s so crowded and dirty and full of people I can’t stand. All these snooty industry types telling me I have to dress this way and talk that way and work my way up from the bottom. Screw that. I’d much rather live here.”
Summer picked her jaw up off the floor. “What about the tuition and your family and all of that? Aren’t they…”
“Disappointed? No. My mom’s a total hippie. Had me on a commune in Santa Barbara.” Felicia opened another polish and scooted closer. “I don’t have a dad. It’s pretty much just me and my cat these days. And Muffin couldn’t be prouder. Where else can he get fresh fish for dinner?”
Summer couldn’t believe it. “That’s so…”
“Pathetic?”
“Courageous. I can’t even manage the cat part.”
Felicia laughed. “Allergic?”
Mandy butted in. “No. She lives in one of those stuck-up apartments in New York. You know—one with a white gloved doorman and more rules than tenants.”
Felicia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I just figured—since you’re friends with Mandy—”
“Pfft. Don’t even go there,” Mandy waved her off. “Summer needs a good kick in the ass. Isn’t that right?”
Color spread up Summer’s cheeks. “Maybe.”