Chapter 17

Summer looked down at her burgundy, cream, and black Fluevogs. The platform pumps were not only adorable, but comfortable. Relatively. She had a long-standing rule that if a woman made the choice to wear high heels, she should zip her lip and not complain about the discomfort.

But this was the eleventh consecutive hour she’d spent in them, moving clothes and accessories from her shop to the shoot location early in the morning, working a full day, and now ordering and steaming them in the space. Summer looked down. Circled her ankle.

“Ditch ’em,” Annabeth said.

“I can’t. It’d ruin my outfit.” They brought a 1940s style flair that finished off the wide-legged burgundy pants with the wide bow as a belt, paired with a cap-sleeved cream shirt. The combination had tickled her this morning. Given her more inner juice than a double-shot espresso.

“Even without the shoes, you are two hundred percent more photo-worthy than I am.” Annabeth tugged at her gray jersey shorts. “And I promise. No Snapchat, no Instagram—no record of you doing the dastardly fashion deed whatsoever.”

“Ah, but I’d know.”

“For someone who prides herself on living in the moment? You’re sure dead set on being miserable in this particular moment.” Annabeth wiggled her toes in her sensible—but god-awful ugly—Teva sandals.

“And I can tell that you’re dead set on helping me. Thank you. You’ve put in so many hours toward launching this website. You’ve been utterly invaluable.”

“It’s been fun. Good for me, too. You’ve opened my eyes to realize there are things out there I could be good at besides waitressing.”

Wasn’t that interesting?

Possibly, too, a solution to Summer’s constant, nagging worry about how she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this project. Or maybe, just more than she wanted to chew.

She dumped the bracelets in her hand into the silverware drawer/makeshift jewelry box. “You know, you have a flair for this. For styling. You’re a whiz on solving website glitches, too. If you might be interested in transitioning from merely helping out a desperate friend to officially joining the Forever Summer team, we could discuss it.”

Annabeth gave a hollow laugh. “What—and leave behind the glamorous world of getting my ass pinched five times a night and smelling of spilled whiskey?”

Her glib dismissal didn’t ring true. At all. Summer reached across the wide marble counter to grab her hand. “I’m serious. I want you to spend some time while I’m gone this weekend thinking about if you’re serious, too. You started waitressing because you had to, not because it was your passion. Because your family was in a bad situation and it was the best way to make money with your clothes on. Which was admirable. But you can move on now.”

“I don’t know why you seem so sure about that.”

Seeing Annabeth’s lower lip quiver, hearing the shakiness in her usually solidly snarky voice—it sent Summer hurrying around the island to throw her arm across her friend’s shoulders. Nobody as strong as her should feel small when contemplating their future.

“You’ve got so much more drive and enthusiasm and talent than you could possible use schlepping cocktails at the POV. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Maybe you don’t think you’re brave enough to take the leap. I know you are. If not to Forever Summer, then wherever you want.”

“Do you really mean that? Because my whole résumé consists of trying not to spill overfilled martini glasses.”

“Stop. Stop it right now. I won’t let you put yourself down in front of me. You’re a master at customer service, at handling difficult situations. You multitask like it’s an Olympic event. Your brain is incredibly nimble. And you have untapped potential that you haven’t even begun to mine. I believe in you, Annabeth.”

“Huh. Maybe I should too, then. Thanks.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Do you see? This, right here, right now, is exactly why I left my shoes on.” Vindication streaked through Summer, almost erasing her exhaustion. “Anybody could be on the other side of that door.”

“Anybody? Because if it’s just the exterminator, he’s all yours. But if it happens to be a certain redheaded Prince of the Realm, then I call dibs.”

Summer hurried—okay, sort of half limped, half shuffled—over to the door. Whoever it was had proved her point and earned a tip of some sort. “I don’t know how you found us, but I’m so glad you did,” she declared as she opened the wide steel door.

Lifting an eyebrow, Riley said, “That’s the kind of welcome a guy wants after a long day.”

“What are you doing here?” Because she hadn’t told him where she’d be. They weren’t at the automatic, unannounced pop-in stage of their relationship.

Were they? Summer certainly didn’t mind seeing him. Since one look at Riley in even his drab navy work “uniform” suit created the trifecta of a fluttering heart, a racing pulse, and an almost cartoonlike fountain of joy spurting through her body. Did that equate to upgrading to pop-in status? She’d never stuck with one guy long enough to get to that point. Chloe, the recent ex-virgin, sure wouldn’t be able to tell her. And Annabeth struck her as so fiercely independent that she’d knee a guy for presuming to show up at her door without warning.

Riley swooped an arm around her waist. Lifted her off her aching feet to meet his warm and deliciously thorough kiss. Then he smiled at her with that single-focus intensity burning in his green eyes that always made her feel like the most important person in the world. “Surprising you, I hope.”

“That goes without saying.” Good thing he kept a hold even as her feet touched the ground again. Summer’s head spun a little. Or maybe it was the earth. All she knew was that everything in the room blurred and tilted a little, except for Riley’s handsome face.

“Go ahead and say it.” Smugness coated his words thicker than peanut butter on toast. “It feels good to hear you admit that I’ve managed to work outside the box you seem to think I exist in.”

That snapped her out of the lust haze. What Summer insisted on calling “lust.” Because admitting her feelings went way beyond lust implied a yearning for plans and a future.

With a sharply pointed finger shake, she said, “Quit it. We called a truce on that kind of thing weeks ago, remember?”

“Doesn’t make it any less fun to prove you wrong.”

Recalling how happy she’d felt all of thirty seconds ago at being right about the shoes, Summer had to concede. “Fine. You surprised me, and I’m delighted.” She ran her hand down his crisp white shirt to feel his pecs. Because she could. Wasn’t that the fun of having him pop by?

“God.” Annabeth made a noise almost identical to a cat horking up a furball. “Aaaand I’m leaving. I can’t watch you two at Flirt Level Gag-Me any longer. Besides, my closing shift at the POV starts in half an hour.”

Riley put his hand up. “But I brought you dinner.”

“You what now?” Annabeth asked. Her surprise was more than matched by Summer’s. The visit was exciting enough. A thoughtful gesture sandwiched on top of it absolutely blew Summer away. Clearly she’d been a fool to resist serious dating for all these years.

Or she’d been a fool to not have been dating Riley.

“I brought dinner for both of you.” Riley stepped into the hallway and came back in with a glossy white bag. “Elisa told me how hard you’d been working, and that you planned to put in more hours tonight. So I swung by Dean and DeLuca. Got some shrimp salad, bread, cheese, Italian sodas, and s’mores bars for dessert.”

Annabeth’s hand dove into the bag, rummaged a bit, and came back out with the plastic- wrapped cookie bar oozing marshmallow and chocolate. “Like I said the other night, Ry, you’re a pretty great guy in my book. I’ll take the dessert on the run. Thanks.” With a wave to Summer, she was out the door.

“What she said,” Summer murmured. “You are a pretty great guy. I did not expect this from you at all.”

“The greatness?” he joked. “Because if that’s the case, you ought to have more faith in me.”

Perhaps he’d hit the nail on the head. “I guess it boils down to me not knowing what to expect. From really dating. From you.”

“I do like the opportunity to vault over what sounds like a very low bar.” Riley set the food bag down. Cupped her face in his hands. “Expect that I’m going to keep working hard to make you happy. As you’ve pointed out a time or two, I’m as type A as they come. Which means I accomplish my goals.”

“I never thought I’d like that about you. The type A thing,” she said with the same disdain she’d use to describe back hair or a man who still let his mother buy his clothes— negatives—both of which Summer had uncomfortably discovered in a single undateable specimen. “But now I’m seeing that it has useful applications.”

Riley put his hands down. Took a step back. Not pressuring her, because that wasn’t his way. “There’s enough food for two. Any chance you want company for dinner? Or would I be keeping you from your work?”

Yes to both. Especially with losing the weekend to the trip up to the Coast Guard Academy. But Summer didn’t want to work. She wanted to enjoy being taken care of, being spoiled. She wanted to enjoy Riley’s company.

And Summer had a long-standing policy of doing whatever she wanted.

Running a hand up his suit coat sleeve, she said, “Stay. Please.”

“This is one heck of a satellite office,” Riley said as he shrugged out of his jacket. Gave a long, low whistle as he turned, taking in the exposed brick walls, the hanging iron chair that looked like an inverted lobster cage (and probably was), and the potbellied stove. “What’s the story?”

“The Helicopter Factory was a turn-of-the-century factory for an inventor who made records and acoustic tiles and helicopter engines.” She led him through the rustic reclaimed stable doors of the dining room to the kitchen.

“Weird combination.”

The same thought had occurred to Summer numerous times. “There’s got to be something that ties them together. You’re the mechanical engineer—you figure it out.”

“Right. In my spare time.” Riley tugged on her ponytail. Once she stopped, he wrapped it around his hand and used it to pull her in for a deep kiss. “Which I already earmarked to spend with you.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I’ll just google it.” No way would she short-shrift herself on those knee-popping kisses just to satisfy mere curiosity. “Anyway, an enterprising development firm gutted it, and turned it into these condos. Modern but still with an industrial feel. Which I thought would be the perfect backdrop for my photo shoot.”

D.C. itself was chock-full of juxtapositions between the historic and the modern, business (at least the business of politics) and culture, and she tried to represent that with her fashions as well. This space would showcase Forever Summer’s fashions exactly right. Stylish but not stuffy.

“Who lives here?”

Summer set the bag on the counter. Then she moved the remaining jewelry into silverware drawers for safety. “Nobody, yet. They don’t open for a few more weeks. A holdup with permits. So they’re just sitting here, mostly finished but empty, aside from the model, which I get to borrow for the next week. Totally free.”

A low whistle arced through his front teeth. “How’d you get the hookup?”

She thought about telling the truth. That when you casually dated your way through most of a city, the business cards began to pile up. This seemed, however, a less-than-optimal time to remind Riley of how disposably she’d treated all the men before him.

“I know a lot of people in this town. Chloe and I moved here right after college. Repeat shoppers spread the word I needed a space this week. Your job is about stats and reports. It’s all about personal relationships in my job.”

“Trust me. My job feels very personal a lot of days.” Riley cracked his neck, left and then right. His eyes hooded. It was as though he was slowly removing his steady mantle of responsibility, and allowing her to see below it to the toll the workday took on him. “When I look at accident reports, coroner reports, crash statistics, how many fatalities occurred on the same stretch of road in just a year—all of those victims become very personal to me.”

The heavy burden of accountability and duty Riley carried, that he worked every day to correct and eliminate dangerous situations, to in some small way make senseless deaths matter…it bowled her over. Summer’s respect for Riley’s strength, his tenacity, his genuine care about each victim and each case was off-the-charts high.

Swinging around behind him, she worked her fingers over the knots along his shoulder ridges. “That’s what makes you so diligent. Because you personalize it, and don’t just care about improving stats or advancing in your career. You care about righting wrongs. About speaking for the victims who no longer have a voice. You make a difference.”

He stiffened beneath her touch. Froze. As Summer scrambled to replay her words and wonder what she’d said to piss him off, Riley spun. Crushed her into his strong arms. Buried his face in her hair. Murmured softly, “Thank you.”

That was the last thing Summer had expected. “For what?”

“I wasn’t sure if anyone besides the ACSs got it. Got me. Saw that this isn’t just a job, but a drive to fix things, to save people.”

How could anyone not be aware of the fire in his belly for what wasn’t a job, but a calling? Some people might see NTSB agents as the guys at accident scenes with clipboards and measuring tapes. But to her? Riley was an old-fashioned knight in armor that just happened to be a supremely dull navy suit rather than chain mail. He traversed the country stockpiling information like ammunition in order to prevent more accidents and save untold lives.

“I’ll bet your boss knows it. Or you wouldn’t have been offered that promotion.”

Grimacing, he let her go. “Did you have to bring that up? I’ve been rocking a pretty sweet streak of denial for, oh, a good six hours now.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m having a good night. At least, I am now that I’m with you. If you promise to not mention the damned job opportunity/punishment, I’ll give you a present.”

“You brought me a present? Besides dinner?”

“Dessert, actually. Not the one Annabeth grabbed. This is just for you.” He rummaged in the bag to produce a tiny pink marzipan pig, dressed in a pink and green Hawaiian shirt. The colors were evocative of Lily Pulitzer—so, a win there. The pig itself was so adorable, with its tiny snout and split hooves, that…that…Summer just wanted to put it on a shelf and giggle. Or bite off one of its perfect minuscule ears.

“Candy dressed in, well, as close to fashion as you get. It made me think of you.”

Yup, that did it. Summer couldn’t eat this pig. Not now that it was officially the sweetest, most thoughtful present she’d ever received. It’d go on her dresser and make her smile every time she dug for socks and panties. Just like she smiled every time she thought of Riley now. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for listening the other night. You let me come over with no notice. You let me whine and rant like a little bitch.”

“Hardly.” Riley in a lather had been a sexy surprise. Loud. Lots of gesticulation. Not flailing. More like he’d been wielding his emotions as though they were a giant sword weighing down his arm.

“Then you wisely changed the subject.”

That was his take on what happened? Summer set down her cunning little pig and cupped his balls with one hand. Gave a firm squeeze. “As I recall, I gave you a blow job. Which then led to other things.”

A smile flashed across his face like quicksilver. “Like I said, you changed the subject. I didn’t need to wallow any longer. And I couldn’t have stopped wallowing without your shove.”

The most important thing she’d learned from giving motivational speeches was that timing mattered. You couldn’t always flick a switch in people and make them feel motivated, make them care—make them listen, even. Sometimes it was better to do nothing. Walk away. Much like a toddler in the midst of a temper tantrum, the brain sometimes needed to be distracted from a problem before it could attempt a fix.

“My pleasure.”

“I mean it, Summer. You kept me from going off the edge.”

Wasn’t he sweet? She smoothed her hands up his chest. Unknotted his tie. “What edge?”

Riley stepped back. In two sharp yanks he got his tie off, then he tossed it over a counter stool. Frustration put a knife edge on his words. “With all that pressure from the director, and then from my parents, I felt like the decision to switch divisions or not simply wasn’t in my control. When I’m not in control, it has serious ramifications. My anxiety can creep back.”

“You thought you’d have an anxiety attack? Because you were upset?”

“No. I wasn’t upset.” He raised a hand to punctuate each word. “I was out of control. And I didn’t feel an attack coming on. It’s just possible that it could have, if you hadn’t intervened. If you hadn’t been exactly what I needed the other night. Which was a surprise.”

“Me? Listening to my…um…” Yikes. What was she supposed to call him? “Boyfriend” felt very let’s go to the prom and “fuck buddy” didn’t at all encompass how close they’d grown emotionally. Even if accidentally. “…uh, guy and lending a shoulder? It surprised you that I’d do that?” Even though it sounded like a compliment—on the surface—Summer was pretty darned sure his statement was an insult.

“You’ve got a huge heart. You’d loan anyone your shoulder. It surprised me that it worked. Coming from you. Because—” Riley broke off.

Which was ominous. What was so surprising that he couldn’t spit it out? “I don’t like where this is heading. But I get the feeling I need to hear it.”