Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

  “Hey,” she said as she neared him. The light caught his face, turning it ghostly in the dark. He snapped it off.

  “Thanks for meeting me here.” He looked out to sea. “It was such a nice night, I wanted to be outside. I’ve been at the office ‘til nine almost every night this week.”

  “Big project?”

  “A couple of medium-sized ones.”

  She waited for her eyes to adjust. Black turned to gray, the edges of the trees and boulders softened, and then she saw a checkered blanket on the sand and a picnic basket. Her heart climbed into her throat. “You brought dinner?”

  He knelt on the blanket. “Just some snacks. And a bottle of wine. I didn’t eat,” he explained. He pushed up his glasses. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” Oh Max, you really are a charmer. She shook her hair from her face.

  He popped the cork with ease and then filled two plastic cups. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t bring real glasses.”

  “Plastic is perfect,” she said. She sipped the sharp, dry red wine that dissolved on her tongue.

  He dumped some crackers onto a plate and produced sliced cheese from somewhere. “You’ve been really nice to me these last couple of weeks,” he added. He was looking at the crackers, but she could swear his cheeks colored. “It’s the least I could do.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” She raised her glass in a toast. “Anything I can do in the name of love.” But the words hurt a little as they came out. She looked across the dark water.

  “I thought about doing something like this for Mikayla, but it seemed a little too” —Max screwed up his face as if looking for the right word — “bourgeois,” he finished.

  “Bourgeois?”

  “Too ordinary,” he said.

  “I know what bourgeois means.” Did he think she was an idiot?

  Max pushed up his glasses. “I’m sorry. I just meant that I don’t think she would appreciate this. A makeshift picnic on the beach.”

  “No? I think the beach is one of Lindsey Point’s most romantic features.”

  He met her gaze head on. “I think you could turn anyplace in town into a romantic feature, Jen.”

  Her pulse sped up. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  He rested both elbows on his crossed legs. “I figure I have to really impress Mikayla. Like you said, up my game. She liked that song a lot. I don’t know how to go up from there.”

  Jen pressed her lips together. He’s not thinking of you romantically. Get that out of your head. But it was awfully difficult when she could smell Max’s aftershave just a few inches away. Desire rippled across her skin.

  “Jen?” he asked after a minute, and she realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “Oh. Sorry. So your date, right.” She took another long sip of wine. “Are you thinking fancy restaurant? In Bluffet Edge?”

  “She likes Luigi’s. I found that out yesterday at work.”

  “Oh. Good idea.” The local Italian place was a landmark in town. “Well, you can’t go wrong there.”

  “I was thinking maybe I’d write her a poem. Or maybe find a poem by her favorite writer.”

  “Do you know her favorite writer?”

  “No.” He drank his wine and sighed. “It’s awfully hard work, all this thinking and planning.”

  He looked so overwhelmed that Jen almost took his hands in hers to calm him. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge she might not be able to let them go.

  “Listen, it shouldn’t be that hard,” she said. “Yes, you want to impress her, but that doesn’t mean swinging from chandeliers or bringing in a string quartet from Italy every time you take her out.”

  He gave a small smile. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. You have fun no matter what. You don’t worry about what other people think. You never did.”

  “I’m sure I did sometimes.”

  “You never showed it. You were always this larger-than-life person back in school, always smiling and making people feel good.” His expression grew serious. “You still are. You’re like the sun of Lindsey Point, and we all just orbit around you.”

  “Oh, Max, I –” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. They sat close enough that if she leaned forward at the same time he did, their mouths would meet. She looked straight at him, and something flipped inside her belly.

  He called me the sun…

  Jen leaned forward. So did Max. She could feel the heat of his body inches from hers.

  Then an enormous clap of thunder shook the sky. For a moment, they both held their breaths. It cracked again. Then it quieted to a rumble. A minute later they could see jagged streaks of lightning over Bluffet Edge.

  Max cleared his throat. “Might be moving in this direction.” He started to pack away the cheese and crackers.

  Jen nodded, her pulse a little unsteady. She handed him the wine bottle. You’re setting him up with Mikayla, she reminded herself. You’re going back to Boston in a week. And he might be taking a job in Chicago. All of which meant the last thing she should be doing was kissing Max on the beach, no matter how much she wanted to.

  “I think Luigi’s is a good plan,” she finally said. Good and safe. “If you feel like writing her a poem, then go for it. But I don’t think you need to.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “You’re charming enough just as you are. If Mikayla doesn’t see that, then maybe she doesn’t deserve you.”

  Max popped the cork back into the bottle and smiled.

  I’m not sure she deserves you at all. “But I want all the details the next morning, okay?” Jen added, wondering if she was setting herself up for heartache.

  “Okay.”

  They finished their wine in silence.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jen spent the morning making lists. Things to take to Boston, people to contact, emails to send. Around noon she called Ash to check in.

  “Hey!” Ash chirped into the phone. “I haven’t heard from you in forever. Thought maybe you got swept out to sea or something. How’s Lindsey Point?”

  “Good. Same as always.” Well, maybe not exactly the same…

  “I’m glad you called. I have something to ask you,” Ash went on.

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Eddie and I set a wedding date. Next fall.”

  Jen squealed.

  “It’ll be at my parents’ place on Martha’s Vineyard. It wasn’t my first choice, too pretentious, but you know my parents.”

  “I do.”

  “Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d be my maid of honor.”

  Jen jumped off her bed. “Of course! Yes! A hundred times, yes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jen stood in the middle of her childhood bedroom, filled with old pictures and posters still hanging on the walls. She supposed it might be time to pack these things away, though part of her liked knowing that her home in Lindsey Point never changed. “Does this mean horrible puffy pink dresses?” she teased.

  “It means I’ll let you help make the decisions about horrible puffy pink dresses, how about that?”

  “Deal.” Jen dropped back onto her bed. “And congrats, Ash. I’m so happy for you and Eddie. Love the house, too. It’s adorable.”

  “Thanks. We’ll get together soon, okay?”

  “Okay.” Jen hung up. Wedding plans. Home ownership. All those things seemed so far away from her own life. Not like she wanted to be tied down to a mortgage or a spouse, but to be honest, she wouldn’t mind a regular guy in her life. The way Ash and Eddie looked at each other could make the coldest heart believe in true love. They’re like sunshine melting the snow, she thought. Every time they’re together.

  You’re like the sun, and the rest of us just orbit around you...

  Jen sighed and wondered if she’d made a colossal mistake in setting Max up with Mikayla.

  ***

  Max changed his clothes three times. He resisted the urge to
text Jen after the third. She’ll tell me I’m crazy and that it’s just clothes. Sure. The way “Cecilia” was just a song, and tonight was just a date.

  He stared into the mirror. Blue polo shirt, dark jeans, and loafers. He’d decided against the poem but picked up a small bouquet of daisies instead. My whole life, I’ve dreamed about going out with Mikayla Johnston. He couldn’t believe his dream was about to come true, and mostly because Jen Oakes had taken pity on him two weeks earlier. Funny, though, that he spent most of his waking hours thinking about Jen, or texting Jen, or talking to Jen, rather than the person he was actually going out with this evening.

  Hey, when do you go back to Boston? he texted. He still had an hour before meeting Mikayla at the restaurant, and reciting prime numbers wasn’t keeping him calm any longer. He hoped Jen was staying in Lindsey Point at least through Labor Day.

  Why? You planning a party? came the response a second later.

  He frowned. Why on earth would he be glad to see Jen go? He stared at her message.

  Kidding. Next week, she texted before he could answer. Hey, how about the Chicago job? You hear anything?

  Holy crow, he’d forgotten to tell her. They offered me a second interview, which is pretty much a guarantee, he typed.

  She sent an animated teddy bear jumping up and down, then a text that read, That’s awesome. So ur Chicago bound? How does Mikayla feel about that?

  He frowned. He wasn’t Chicago-bound, exactly. The firm had two other North American locations. He started to type an explanation, but then she sent another text.

  Gotta go. Have an awesome time!

  Max pulled off his glasses and polished them, then stuck them back on and examined his reflection again. That stupid cowlick fell over his eye, and he pushed it back, but it didn’t stay. I should have told her, he thought. I should have told her my interview is in Boston and not Chicago.

  What would she say? Would she be glad if Max moved to Boston? They might end up living near each other. They might go out for dinner or drinks. Maybe she’d show him the sights; maybe if they came back to Lindsey Point for the holidays, they could ride together.

  Max checked his watch, lost in thought. Of course, maybe Jen wouldn’t want him tagging along. Maybe she even had a boyfriend back in the city, not that she’d ever mentioned one, but still. Something hollow echoed in the center of his chest. Whoever Jen ended up with would be one hell of a lucky guy. He thought again of the way she’d kissed him that first night on the beach. The way she’d danced with him at The Cove. The way she was the first person he thought of each morning when he woke.

  Max walked downstairs, thoughts spinning and pulse racing. She’s waiting for me at the restaurant. Mikayla Johnston. The girl I’ve wanted to date since I was thirteen. He climbed into his Honda and sat there, engine off, for a long ten minutes. The thing was, he wasn’t thirteen anymore, was he? He wasn’t eighteen either, awkward, nervous and anxious for a prom date. He wasn’t even the same twenty-six year-old he’d been two weeks ago.

  He tightened his hands around the steering wheel. Faces flicked in and out of his mind’s eye. Long legs. Wide smiles. Curvaceous bodies that turned him hard in an instant. Finally he turned the key and headed for Luigi’s.

  ***

  “No plans tonight?” Jen’s mom asked. They sat in the living room, bare feet propped on the coffee table. Sitcom reruns played on the flat-screen TV above the fireplace.

  “Nope. I’ll take every quiet night I can get before I go back.”

  “What happened to your tutoring gig?” Lucas asked from across the room. His nose was buried in a four-wheeling magazine, but she could swear the faintest grin lit his face.

  She tried to ignore the ache in her chest. “It was short-term. I taught him everything he needed to know.”

  “Who were you tutoring, honey?” her mom asked.

  “No one special. Just a guy who needed help.” Jen stood, suddenly claustrophobic. “I’m going to get some air.” She waved. “Be back later.”

  “Be careful,” her mom said, eyes glued to the television.

  Jen stuck her feet into flip-flops and walked outside. Last night’s storm had blown over, leaving crystal-clear ocean air and a sky full of stars. Without thinking, she headed for the beach. It had always calmed her, grounded her, and tonight, with strange feelings and odd emotions churning in her stomach, she needed that.

  He’s at the restaurant by now. He’s probably pulled out her chair and maybe ordered some wine (Jen had given him one white and one red suggestion, depending on what Mikayla preferred). She ran her fingers through her hair. If all went well, Max and Mikayla would take a walk on the beach after dinner, and he’d kiss her and ask for a second date, and by the time Jen returned to Boston, the happy couple would be well on their way to blissdom.

  Jen took off her flip-flops as she reached the sand. It all sounded very romantic, and very depressing, because at some point in the last few days, she had fallen head over heels for Max. No use denying it; she recognized the butterflies in her stomach and the anxiety in her chest each time he texted or called or did something ridiculously adorable like pull at his collar or push up his glasses.

  The problem was that it was too late. She’d directed Max straight into Mikayla’s arms, and the silliest thing would be to turn around and tell him she had made a mistake and wanted him instead.

  Near the lighthouse, Jen slowed. Would it be the silliest thing? Dared she confess her feelings? A couple walked along the water, hand in hand. A middle-aged man threw a stick for his dog, who splashed into the surf over and over again to retrieve it. She dragged her feet along the sand, turning over choices inside her head.

  “Jen?”A figure emerged from the shadows of the keeper’s house.

  She froze. “Max? What are you doing here? What happened?”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. His chin ducked, and his hair fell over his eyes. When he finally spoke, the words were directed at his feet. “All the way to the restaurant, I kept thinking about what you told me. To be confident, that Mikayla had already said yes and even already kissed me, and I was ahead of the game.”

  “That’s all true.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she kissed me at Shenanigan’s.”

  Okay, not really what Jen wanted to talk about, but she’d go with it. “What about it?”

  Finally he lifted his chin and met her gaze. “It wasn’t like the way you kissed me. Or talked to me, or danced with me, or.... anything.”

  Heat flooded Jen’s face. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

  His mouth opened and closed as if he wasn’t sure how to answer. He took one step toward her, then wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his lips to hers.

  Fireworks went off everywhere from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, and Jen melted. Her tongue met his, her hands went to the back of his neck, and everything inside her warmed. This guy might be a geek on the outside, but he was pure Greek god everywhere that mattered, and that included the way he was touching her right now.

  “This is a good thing,” Max said when he finally broke the kiss. “All of this, what we have, and the way I feel around you. The way I feel like myself around you,” he amended. One hand brushed her cheek. “At least, I hope it’s a good thing. It’s what I want.”

  “Oh, me too,” Jen said in a shaky voice. Then, giving up on words, she pulled Max close and kissed him again.

  Epilogue

  The following night, impromptu bonfires popped up all over the beach. As the sun set, Jen wrapped herself in a hoodie and held out her hands to the flames. Max snaked his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  “I didn’t even tell you the best part,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Mmm?” She snuggled into the solid warmth of him. “What’s that?”

  “My second interview is in Boston. Next week.”

  Jen spun in his arms. “Not Chicago? Why didn’t you tell me?”
/>
  “I just found out.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “And I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you.”

  She ran one finger down his chest. “Are you stalking me?”

  “I don’t even think I’d know where to start,” Max confessed. They both laughed.

  “Me either.” She pulled his face close for a kiss, not caring who on the crowded beach might see them.

  “Hey, you two, get a room,” Finn bellowed in the dark. He joined them by the fire, with Lucas close behind. Finn cocked a brow as he looked at Jen and Max. “Huh. So you guys are together now?” He pointed at Max. “You know if you hurt her, I’ll break your face, right?”

  Max colored, and Jen nudged Finn’s shoulder. “Stop it.”

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Lucas said. “But yeah, sis, if this guy doesn’t treat you right, he answers to us.”

  Jen wound her arm through Max’s. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Good.” Finn popped the tops off four beers and passed them around. “Now let’s celebrate.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “You are looking at the official owner of the former Watering Hole. Soon to be a new watering hole with a new name and a new look. I signed the paperwork this morning.”

  Jen whooped and jumped up and down. “Really? Aw, congrats. That’s great.”

  Max touched his bottle to Finn’s. “Congratulations, man. Can’t wait to see it redone.”

  “What are you going to call it?” Jen asked.

  “Don’t know yet. Somethin’ meaningful.”

  Jen took a long sip of beer. She hadn’t meant to share her other news tonight, but since they were celebrating, why not? “I have some good news of my own.”

  “What’s that?” Finn asked.

  Jen put one hand on her hip and cocked her head. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and said in a high-pitched voice, “Welcome to Lindsey Point, home of a haunted lighthouse and a fifty-year-old murder mystery.”