I’d been tearing up the floor for a solid day now, and thanks to Summer helping me work the kinks out every night, my shoulder is feeling a hell of a lot better. I hear the shower turn off and she’s humming a tune as she pads to the bedroom to get dressed. I have to admit, I like when she’s happy like this, carefree, if only for a few moments in the day. Outside, tied up in a shaded area to keep her safe from construction, Scout barks at the kids playing in the water. Sunshine slants in through the back window, and using my forearm, I wipe beads of sweat from my forehead. It’s only midmorning and the cottage is already like a sauna. The forecast is calling for rain later, and I hope like hell it clears the humidity.

I set down the circular saw I’d been using and reach for the crowbar. One of the boards, swollen and water damaged is being a real bitch to get up. I slide the bar under it, give it a tug and it comes away in pieces. I toss the scraps aside and dig in with my bare hands to tear the rest away. I finally pull it from the subfloor, which looks pristine. At least the water hasn’t destroyed the rough floorboards beneath the damaged oak. Costs won’t be quite as high if we don’t have to tear into the plywood. By my count, only half the wood floor needs to be removed. I can easily replace the boards, sand them down and stain them to match.

I kick a few boards with my boots, and I’m about to turn when something shiny catches my eye. I drop to my knees, and scrape at the golden circular object, which is jammed halfway under one of the good boards that I have no intention of removing. Whoever laid this floor did a shit job, with all the swelling and contracting from the changing seasons, it’s no wonder something got lost. I free the shiny piece of jewelry and lay it in my palm to examine it.

“Whoa,” I say and go back on my heels.

“Whoa what?” I hold the gold wedding band up for Summer to see and her big brown eyes go alarmingly wide, like she’s seen a ghost. It’s a small ring, wouldn’t even fit on my pinkie. “I think it’s a woman’s wedding ring.”

Summer goes so quiet I can practically hear her heart pound in her chest. She stares at the band like it’s an apparition, and when I hold it out to her, her fingers ball and press into her stomach.

I stand and watch her carefully, waiting for some telltale sigh that this belongs to her mother. When she continues to stare, saying nothing I ask, “Do you think this belonged to the Wheelers?”

Standing unnaturally stiff, she nods, then those haunted brown eyes of hers slide to mine. I take in the pain, the little-girl-lost look on her face, and my lungs collapse.

“Jenna,” I say, but she turns away, like she’s only mildly interested. The act is lost on me. I see her raw pain. It falls over me like a physical blow. I want to pull her to me, tell her everything will be okay. But how can I tell her that when she won’t open up to me—is pretending her mother’s long lost ring means nothing to her. Anger flares hot inside me, but I tamp it down and curse myself. She’s lost, scared, and hurting. Am I really going to act like an ass because she doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on in her life? For fuck’s sake, that’s not what she needs from me right now and hurting her in any way would destroy me

“Here,” I say, and hand it to her. She curls her fingers around it, and holds it to her chest, but goddammit I want to be the thing she holds on to, the guy she turns to for comfort.

A long pause, and then, “Thank you,” she says, her voice as cool and calm as she can make it, but I can see the rattled little girl beneath the surface. Every now and then she lets me glimpse her.

Her breathing changes, becomes harsher, and it’s easy to tell she’s fighting the tears. “Jenna.”

“Yeah.” She turns from me, and I get it. She doesn’t want me to call her on it, doesn’t want me to say a fucking word about who she really is.

“You’d better get to work. It’s getting late.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice, soft, shaky as she grabs her apron off the back of the chair.

“Wait.” Fuck man, I might be pissed that she refuses to open up to me but no way can I let her drive in her current state. “I have to run to town. Why don’t you let me drive you?”

“It’s—”

“Come on,” I say, not giving her a choice. “I have a bunch of things to do so I’ll be back and forth all day. It’s no problem for me to pick you up either.”

“Okay,” she says and I’m surprised when she caves so easily. She likes to do everything herself, but even she knows she’s in no state to drive. I’d suggest she take the day off but I’m not going to push my luck. I untie Scout from outback and Summer gives her a hug and kiss before she kennels her safely inside.

We jump in the truck and she’s quiet, lost in her own thoughts as I drive. I slide my hand across the seat and capture hers. She gives me a weak smile and I feel like shit, wishing I could do something to help her. But fuck, how can I do that when she’s still not being honest with me. This shit is really starting to piss me off.

I finally pull up to Winchesters. “What time are you off?”

“I finish at five.”

“I’m going to do my best to get the floor finished today. Then all that’s left is to fix the wall.” A tight knot forms at the thoughts of finishing the job, walking away from Summer.

“Thanks Sean. The place is really looking good. The Wheelers would have loved it.”

“Do you love it?”

She nods and my ripped-up heart squeezes. “Good,” I say, because making Summer happy is the most important thing in the world to me.

She opens her door and my phone pings. I pull it from my pocket and the text from Gram makes me smile. I hold the phone out. “Gram.”

Summer’s smile lights the cab. “I love that she texts.”

“Come here.” I reach for her, draw her mouth to mine and give her a kiss. “I’ll see you at five.” I watch her weave around the cars in the lot, and it’s only after she’s safely inside the pub, that I put the truck back into gear and head to the old homestead to see what Gram needs.

Warm air feels good against my face as I drive. I take the turn down the long road leading to the old house, and when I see Gram and Jamie on the front swing, the permanent knot in my stomach squeezes the air from my lungs. I climb from the truck and dust kicks up under my boots as I hurry toward them. I reach the top step and stop before the landing. My gaze goes from Gram, to Jamie back to Gram again.

“What’s wrong?”

Gram tries to smile, and while she’s tough, heck we all are because of her, this time she can’t hide her pain. She’s had so much loss, too.

“Funeral home called,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. Hands folded in her lap, I notice how tight they are, how hard this really is on her. “We need to go make arrangements.”

“I thought we weren’t having the service until everyone got home.” Why is it there was some part of me that thought we’d never have to really face this, never have to put our father in the ground? He was always as hard as nails, a gale force wind that no one or nothing could stop. At least that’s how he always seemed to me.

“Everyone is home,” Jamie said, his eyes snapping up. “The last cousin got in last night.” He gestures toward the door. “They’re all inside, either eating or sleeping off the long trek home.”

“Okay,” I say, not really up to facing any of them right now. Fuck, I’d been so busy playing with Summer, I’d forgotten about my responsibilities, what I owe this family and the example I’m supposed to be setting. Well fucking done, Sean. I can just imagine what Dad would say about that. I swallow hard. “Gram, are you ready?”

Jamie stands. “I can take her.”

“No,” I say much too harshly, my boots echoing around the quiet homestead as I take the last step to the landing, to help Gram. I’m the oldest. It’s what I need to do. Jamie nods and sits back down. I put my arm around Gram, and for the first time in my life I realize how small and fragile she really is. I swallow back the shit storm clawing at me, hollowing out my gut and pressing against my eyes.

I help Gram into the truck, and she gives me a feeble smile as I drive down the long lane leading to the main road. I don’t need to ask to know where we’re going. There is only one funeral home in town and the last time I was there I was a teenager. After mom’s funeral, Jamie and I tore up the streets looking for a fight. But I’m older now, need to curb that shit and start acting like the adult I am.

“I met Jenna,” Gram says, breaking the quiet and wanting to talk about something happier, I suppose.

I give her a quick look then turn my attention back to the road. “She’s just a friend, Gram. You shouldn’t have invited her to Sunday dinner.”

“I invite everyone who’s come to live in Blue Bay to dinner, you know that.” She lifts her head. “Inviting her to dinner has nothing to do with you.” I shake my head and grin. While she does invite every new resident to dinner, this still has everything to do with me.

“I know what you’re up to,” I say.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you’re hoping I’ll find a wife and settle down here in Blue Bay. You don’t have to worry. I’m home for good this time.”

Green eyes gloss with worry and she fidgets with the big purse on her lap. “Sean, I don’t want you to stay here if it’s going to make you miserable. We have one shot at this life, and you need to find happiness. Your father would want you to be happy.”

I could never make my father happy.

I eye her. “And you think Jenna is the happiness I’m looking for, the girl who’s going to keep me in Blue Bay?”

Quick on her feet, she comes back with, “What part of ‘inviting her to dinner has nothing to do with you’ don’t you understand?”

I laugh out loud as she bobs her head, always getting the one-up on me. “As long as it has nothing to do with me. And I know this is where I belong Gram. I can be happy here.”

Her look is dubious, but instead of commenting she says, “Jenna looks an awful lot like Summer Wheeler, don’t you think? You always did have a thing for her.”

Way to be subtle, and how she knew I always had a thing for Summer is beyond me. “She looks nothing like Summer,” I say and jack the tunes. Gram grabs a Kleenex from her purse and wipes at her nose as we take the corner and turn on to Main Street.

My gaze slides over the streets, the tourists who are bustling about and all the shops open for business. My stomach clenches as my mind goes back. I used to know every inch of these streets, used to run them with my brothers. I knew when it was time to go home to dinner from the shadows on the sides of the buildings. I knew every crack in the cement, every car on the street. I can still smell the homemade ice cream and waffle cones at Sugar’s, the apple pie at Benny’s, the antiseptic in the corner drugstore. In the busy summers the briny scent of the ocean filled the air, the laughter of children playing in the water. When the leaves began to fall and the sultry summer turned to autumn, the air crisp and cooler, the tourists would pack up and leave—go back to their real lives for the winter months. The streets grew quiet then, the town once again belonging to the locals.

This town, with all its familiar shops and people is like a character of Blue Bay in and of itself. I feel a pinch in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart. I missed this place, felt a little hollowed when I left it in my rearview mirror. Now that I’m back, everything is the same, yet different. Nothing is normal anymore. My dad is gone and Summer is back, living under an alias.

As my heart beats too fast, I abandon my trip down memory lane and squeeze my truck between two parked cars, then kill the ignition. The funeral home looms in front of us and for a minute I’m not sure I can do this. Dad was the pillar of the community. Him being gone just doesn’t seem real. But when Gram reaches for the door, I press a fist to my eyes and pull myself together.

“Gram,” I say, and touch her arm. “I can do this if you want to wait here.”

Her smile is slow, and steady, like her. “You’re a good boy, Sean. Let’s do this together.”

I jump from the truck and circle it to help Gram out. Clouds knit together overhead as the hot sultry air slides over my skin. Gram rubs her arthritic knuckles. “A storm is coming,” she says.

I nod in agreement. But in my gut I know the storm building around me has nothing to do with the weather. No, this storm has been years in the making and has everything to do with the guilt swirling inside me, looking for an outlet. With an ominous feeling closing in on me, chasing me through the streets I once ruled, I lead Gram to the front doors, my legs like cement. The god-awful scent of cleanser and flowers falls over me as I usher Gram inside, and when nausea hits I try to breathe past it.

We’re guided into a small room in the back, where we sit with the funeral director to go over the service, prayers, and reception. I take it all in, feel like I’m having a fucking out-of-body experience. Is this really happening? It all feels so surreal and I’m having a hard fucking time processing the information. By the time we leave and I drop Gram off back at the house I know I need one of two things: a hard bike ride or a hard fuck.

Probably both.

I jump on my Yamaha, tug on my helmet, and hit the throttle. I drive through town until I reach the next county. I meander along the coast and cruise the hills and valleys I know like the back of my hand. But something is missing. A ride always used to make me feel better, but today I need something more.

I turn around and head back to Blue Bay. Summer doesn’t get off for another hour, but I can’t wait that long. I ease into the lot of Winchesters and park beside Tyler’s bike. I stomp to the front door, and when I push it open and see Summer with her hands on my fucking brother, my entire world compresses, fades to a dangerous shade of red as the sight before me knocks me off balance.

The door slams shut behind me, probably because I gave it a hard fucking shove, and all eyes turn to me. Tyler goes stiff, and Summer jumps back, the loud bang frightening her. Either that, or she hadn’t expected to get caught running her fucking hands over Tyler’s shoulder. I told her it was me and her this summer, no one else, and I fucking meant it.

She’s not like that.

Everything in me screaming possession as I glare at Tyler and he jumps to his feet, meets my gaze straight on as I walk across the room to get up in his face.

“Back the fuck off,” he says before I can get a word out. “Jenna was just helping me with my shoulder.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I stand before him, practically nose to nose. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

I take in his crossed arms, his hard expression. “No, I don’t because you can’t get the fucking permits,” he shoots back. “What’s your fucking problem, Sean?” he says through clenched teeth as he glowers at me.

I fist my hair, tug on it. Shit. Shit. Shit. This is my little brother and I’m two seconds from slamming my fist into his face because Summer had her hands on him. Ty would never disrespect me like that. None of the guys would. There isn’t one Owens who’d hone in on his brother’s girl. Yeah, she’s my fucking girl. I’m just so fucked up inside after the trip to the funeral home, my heart so goddamn cut up, I’m not thinking straight.

I look at Summer, and in a deceptively calm voice say, “Get your things.”

She’s blinking rapidly, her gaze shifting around the room, but I don’t care who is looking at us. In fact if any of the dickless assholes are here right now, I might make them my punching bag.

“My shift isn’t over, Sean.”

I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly in an effort to get my shit together. My boots scrape as I step up to her, my knuckles touching her. “Get your things,” I say again, my voice calm, despite the motherfucking hurricane tearing through me.

As though she can see into my soul, see the fucked-up state I’m in, she nods. “I’ll tell Beck I have to cut out early.”

“I’ll take care of Beck.” I don’t turn to Ty. Don’t want to see his face. I feel like shit, but he’s smart enough to know why, and if I see his sadness, his disappointment in me, I’m going to fucking lose it or punch something—neither of which I want.

I step in to Beck’s office, take over his doorway. He lifts his head, and his face drops when he gets a glimpse of me. As he stares, I take a moment to consider what he sees. Every muscle in my body is tight, my hands are fisting, clenching and unclenching, and I probably have murder in my eyes. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he pushes back in his chair and waits for me to say something.

“Jenna is cutting out early. It’s on me, not her.”

He nods. What else is he going to do? I’m in a mood and he’s not going to stand in my way. I walk back into the pub and Summer is coming from the back room, her purse over her shoulder.

Need slams in to me, beats at me like a drum. I fucking need her—for far too many reasons that frighten me.

“You okay on the back of my bike?” I ask.

She smiles, but it’s forced. “As long as you avoid all hairpin turns.”

Does she really think I’d do anything to hurt her? She attempts another smile to let me know she’s kidding. But Jesus, I’m fed the fuck up with the lies. I’m Sean. She’s Summer. I’d cut off my left nut if it meant protecting her. From the first time I set eyes on the skinny little freckle-faced blonde outside Sugar’s, I was done for. So fucking done for.

I dip my head and my hair falls forward. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you right?”

She goes quiet, those dark eyes moving over my face. “I know, Sean.”

I capture her hand and silence falls over us as I lead her outside. Tyler’s eyes drill into my back, but I don’t turn. It’s been a shit day, brutal as fuck helping Gram arrange for Dad’s burial, and I need to escape for a few hours. We get outside, and I lead her to my bike. I unhook the spare helmet and place it on her head. She reaches for the clasp, but I push her hands away and do it for her. She gives a breathy huff, and I stare at her, daring her to say something. I told her when this affair began that I’d be doing things for her. She better not challenge me now. Not when I’m in this kind of mood.

I climb on the bike and she slides in behind me. “Hold on to me,” I say and her hands slide around my waist as I pull into dinner-hour traffic. She doesn’t ask where we’re going, just holds me tight, her legs wrapped around my body squeezing hard. I’m not sure where I’m taking her, but after aimlessly driving for miles, I find myself on the bluff. When it comes right down to it, I guess I’m not surprised I drove here.

When we were kids we used to climb the bluff and dive headfirst into the water. Damn daredevils, every last Owens boy. The year Summer hit fourteen, God she was so pretty, her mother let her out of her sight more, and while her friends were allowed to go with us to the bluff, Summer was never allowed. Probably a good thing since she wasn’t a strong swimmer.

Still, I remember my brothers making out with the girls, and I used to imagine bringing Summer here with me, kissing and swimming until day bled to night. But I never acted on my urges back then.

I climb from the bike and help her off. She makes a move to unclasp her helmet but I do it for her and hook them both on the handlebars. “Come on.” Her hand slides into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world and for a second it gives me pause. I look at her, take in the concern in her eyes, and it guts me. Sweet Summer, she’s worried about me but she’s just as fucked up and lost as I am.

We climb the beaten-down grass path to the top of the bluff. With the rain coming, I don’t expect anyone to be there. Only an idiot would be hanging at Blue Bay’s highest ridge with a rainstorm brewing overhead. If Summer knew what was good for her, she’d run the other way, seek shelter. But she’s not. She’s sanding strong beside me, unafraid.

When we reach the top, I drop to the grass and cross my legs. Summer does the same and stays quiet beside me as we look out at the white caps crashing against the shore below us. Seconds turn to minutes, and we just breathe, our knees touching, her heat bringing warmth and light to my darkest corners.

“I told him I hated him and never want to see him again,” I finally say, breaking the silence as every buried emotion I have comes roaring to the surface. Pain, pleasure, sorrow, and joy all hitting like a fucking lightning bolt. My body breaks out in a sweat and I angle my head to steal a glance at Summer, catch her reaction, but all she does is nod, and for that I’m grateful. To be honest, right now I don’t want to be consoled or pitied or fucking lectured. I just need to get a lot of shit off my chest. Up until Summer there was no one I ever wanted to confide in, not even my brothers.

“He was a hard-assed son of a bitch. None of us guys could ever do anything right in his eyes. Every last one of us left him, left the family and business, never to look back.” I swallow the bile punching into my throat, and take a couple fueling breaths. “I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was nineteen, and we were working on one of the cottages. Dad asked me to run to the hardware store to get some four-inch spikes. I was already huge into bikes at the time, and jumped on my Yamaha.” I pause and laughed. “I loved that bike, saved every cent I ever made to get it.” I pick at the grass beneath me. “Anyway, I got Dad’s nails, but Benny flagged me down. He asked me to do a delivery. How could I say no to him right? He was like a hundred years old even back then.”

Summer gives me a small smile. “That he was.”

“So I did a quick delivery to help the guy out, and by the time I got the nails to Dad, he was fuming. He wouldn’t let me explain the delay, and we both said some pretty nasty shit to each other that day. I threw the fucking nails at him, and walked out. I emptied my back account, stuffed some clothes into my backpack and took off. I wandered for a bit, did some odd jobs, then made some connections on the motocross circuit.”

She nods like she knows this story. “You did well for yourself.”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I . . . just assumed. When you put your mind to something you’re the kind of guy who gives it his all.”

“I never should have let my temper get the best of me. I was a stupid fucking kid, you know. I think back now, and I see Dad was just trying to make a man of me. Of all of us, really. Maybe he didn’t know all the right things to say. Fuck knows he didn’t know all the right thing to do.” I scoff. “Maybe that’s how his father treated him and it’s the only way he knew to parent. It couldn’t have been easy for him, trying to fill the shoes of both a mother and father.” Edgy and out of sorts, I press my palm to my eyes, fight back the sting of tears and go quiet for a long time. “I went with Gram to make the funeral arrangements today. We bury him next Tuesday,” I say quietly.

“I’ll go with you.” Her hand snakes out and closes over mine, and she just holds me, her look one of understanding, never judgment.

“I wish I would have come home sooner. I wish I could have apologized. We all turned our backs on him. I wish . . .” A sound catches in my throat. A half laugh, half cry. “I wish he knew I . . . loved him.”

“He knew, Sean,” she says quietly, no reprimand in her voice, just gentle understanding.

I bite down on my cheek. Fuck man, I don’t want to cry. “I wish I could have made him proud of me, you know, but nothing I ever did was good enough. I nearly fucking killed myself on the circuit. I had something to prove. I just never knew if I was trying to prove something to him or me. Still, none of that shit is an excuse to tell him I hate him though. I didn’t just walk out on him, I set an example for the rest of the guys in the family.” I exhale slowly. “Stupid fucking kid.”

“That’s just it, Sean. You were just a kid. We all do stupid things as kids. That’s our job, and our parents’ job is to guide us into adulthood the best way they know how.”

“If I ever have kids, which I never plan to, I’d never want to be such a hard ass.”

“Dads are hard-asses and sometimes just plain stupid when it comes to raising kids. How can they just expect a child to step into their shoes and know the rules if they’ve never walked in them right?”

My heart skips a beat. She’s talking about her own dad. Her voice is far too raw, too full of grief. Like she’s dredging up painful memories. What kind of danger is she in?

She turns to me, her hair catching in the breeze. She pushes it back. “My dad always tried to protect me. I think they’re very different with girls and boys.”

I look out to see a sailboat bobbing in the distance. “Maybe it would have been different if there was a girl in the family. Might have softened him a bit.”

“I can’t believe you have a football team of boys and not one girl,” she says, shaking her head.

“Gram is still holding out for great-grandkids.”

“I always wanted a brother,” she says. “You were lucky to grow up in a big family. I would have liked that, Sean. But Mom died, and Dad and I moved around a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I never had a lot of friends because of it.” She exhales slowly and looks around. “I don’t feel so alone here.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“He died in a motorcycle accident but . . .” Her voice falls off as she chokes back a cry.

I put my arm around her and she falls against me. “But what?”

She opens her mouth like she wants to say, then closes it again.

“Tell me about your mom.”

She swallows, and that haunted look returns to her face. “I walked into her room one morning and found her dead on the bed. Brain tumor.”

“Jesus,” I say. I knew her mom had died and rumors went around but I never really knew the truth. “What a horrible thing to happen.”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago.”

But the pain was as raw today as it was back then. I can see it in her eyes.

“I talked to Gram about Sunday dinner. I tried to get you out of it.”

“It’s okay. I decided I would go.”

“Yeah?” I pick a blade of grass and run it between my fingers.

“I’ve always wanted a big family. I used to think I’d have one of my own. The big house, white picket fence. Is that silly?”

“No it’s not, and why did you say you ‘used’ to think you’d have one?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I just . . . ,” she begins. Jesus, is she finally going to tell me what the fuck is going on in her life? “Don’t think about that anymore,” she says finishing the sentence.

“You should have that. You deserve that.”

She turns from me, shadowing her face with her hair, but not before I see the moisture in her eyes. “Maybe while I’m here I can live vicariously through your family.”

As I take in her smile and her acceptance of Gram’s invitation, two things hit me: One, for the first time she’s opening up to me, sharing a part of herself, and two, she’s still talking about leaving, and I don’t fucking want her to. What I do want is to ask her what the fuck is wrong and why she’s been lying to me, but I’m too worried I might frighten her off. What if I come straight out and ask her and it scares her away. She’s running, I get that, but how the fuck can I watch over her, and protect her if she runs away from me?

“You say that now. Wait until you’re surrounded by us, nowhere to run. You’ll be wondering what you ever got yourself in to.”

“I’m not worried. You’ll be with me, and there isn’t one Owens boy who will stand up against you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and curse myself. “Tyler was ready to.”

“He understands, Sean. He’s knows how hard today was on you. You were pushing. He was pushing back. He’s hurting, too, you know.”

My chest grows tight, like I’ve been kicked in the ribs. “Yeah, I know.”

She gives me a small smile and I fall back onto the grass, dragging her down with me. “I think we all just wish we could have made him proud of us one way or another.”

“Is that why you’ve taken over the business? To prove to him you can be the man he needs you to be? Make him proud of you once and for all?”

“Yeah. I sunk my entire savings into the business and if I can’t get the fucking permits I need, it will all be for nothing.”

I turn my head and gaze at her as she stares at the dark clouds bursting with moisture. The rain will be here any minute. With unhurried movements, like we have all the time in the world and she doesn’t care if the skies open up and douse us in water, her hand slides across the grass.

“It means protection,” I say.

“What?”

“My tattoo,” I begin. “When we were in the bathroom last week, you asked what it meant.”

“I remember.”

“The scorpion. It represents protection. I chose it because I’d do anything for my brothers and cousins.” I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “And my father,” I add quietly. “But I did a piss-poor job of that, didn’t I?”

“You’re a good man, Sean. The best man I know,” she whispers, her voice soft, whispering over me like the ocean breeze, and creating an intimacy deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before.

When she reaches for me, links her fingers it mine, her soft touch is like a healing balm to my soul, able to ease the pain inside of me—calm my demons. In that instance my body aches for hers, needing her in a way I’ve never needed another.

“You’re not going to tell me I’m sweet again are you?” I say, needing like fuck to lighten things up. The truth is I’ve never opened myself up to emotions. Didn’t want to let anyone in, only to end up disappointing them. But with Summer, all that has changed.

She grins and turns toward me, going up on one elbow as she fixes her attention on me. “Maybe,” she says, her warm breath brushing my skin, turning me inside out. Need resonates through me. I don’t know how I thought I could ever fuck her out of my system. This is Summer Wheeler we’re talking about. Not some circuit girl accustomed to my one-night stands. I take in the freckles on her nose and baser instincts kick in. I need her beneath me, need to be inside her, need to strip her naked so I can put my mouth all over her.

“Then maybe I owe you that spanking, after all.”

She rolls from me, offering me her ass, her body. “Maybe you do.”

Yeah, sure I asked for sex and she’s given me her body numerous times, but maybe I fucking want more. Jesus, I’ve never wanted a woman like this before. My bedroom always had a revolving door, and I rarely slept with the same woman twice. No ties. No commitments. Just fun. That’s the motto I lived by. So why the fuck is this woman messing with that?

I take a quick moment to reevaluate our relationship, and suddenly I want to ask for things I never thought I’d ever ask for. Summer has always been everything to me. Like a goddamn burst of sunshine on a gray winter’s day. Unlike most people, she never judged, and saw things in me no one else did and it’s time I stop denying what I really want from her—to have her in my life, as well as my bed. No fucking way can I walk away from this thing between us.

In the blink of an eye life can change. We’re both aware of that. Maybe Gram was right. We have one shot at this and need to find happiness. Maybe I would be happy staying here in Blue Bay if Summer was staying here with me. When I first came back, I figured I had to walk the straight and narrow—no distraction, no women, no trouble. I thought that was what I would take to be the man Dad needed me to be, but I see now that Summer makes me a better man. She believes in me, knows I’ll never hurt her, and that helps me believe in myself, believe that I’m not a guy who only knows how to disappoint. I mull that over, let the idea of it grow on me. But Summer still has secrets, is still hiding things from me.

I tune everything out, even the light raindrops falling on us, and gaze at the woman I’ve been crazy about since we were kids. Something that feels like love moves through me and I know I have a long-ass way to go to get my father’s business up and running the way he’d want me to, but that road doesn’t seem so steep or painful if Summer is by my side. But what does she want? Is it possible that I could prove she can trust me, prove that we could move past the secrets and build something together?

What if that’s not what she wants?

What if it is?