Summer's Kiss (The Boys of Ocean Beach 1)

“What’s your name?”

“Summer.”

“Got it.”

There’s no one else inside and it’s quiet as she makes my drink. Her name tag says Mindy and she looks a little younger than me. The awkward silence and pointed looks get to me and I say, “Do you live here year-round?”

“Yeah, born and raised.” She looks up at me. “You here on vacation?”

“For the whole season. My mom and I have family over at the campground and we’re staying there.”

“Oh, so that’s how you know the boys.”

I glance over my shoulder. Pete’s fallen back asleep and Justin fidgets with the radio. “Yeah, pretty much.”

She laughs. “I was wondering. I mean, not that I think there’s anything wrong with you but it’s a surprise to see them driving around with a girl. You know, other than Ivy or Maggie.”

“No? They don’t date much?”

She shrugs. “Maybe in college. I don’t know. They’ve always been completely focused on their jobs and family. Tight knit. It’s hard to break in. I had a friend that dated Whit for a while. She always felt like an outsider.” She hands me my drink. “But if you’ve got family down there then I can see that’s why they’ve brought you along.”

I’m not sure if that’s a backhanded compliment or not. It’s probably just truth. I had felt oddly accepted by this group of locals—or ‘townies.’ Maybe the fact I didn’t have a lot of family made it seem strange, where really it’s just how family operates. I thanked Mindy for the drink and left the shop.

I climb in the front seat. “Okay, what are we doing?”

“Going to work,” he says, turning left onto the beach road.

I almost spit my coffee all over the dash. “Are you kidding me? You made me get up to go hang out at your job?”

“Sure,” he says. “Why not? You don’t have anything else to do.”

I stare at the tattoo on his arm and wonder what else he thinks is fun. “You suck, you know that?”

“I don’t,” he laughs and keeps driving, turning down a small side road back toward the water. “Just wait, you’ll love it.”

I look to Pete for help but he just smiles, brushing his curly black hair out of his face.

Turns out Justin’s right, although I don’t tell him that. At the marina, I learn they spend the day prepping boats and readying them for clients who dry dock them when they aren’t in use. It’s not glamorous or anything but the marina stores a ton of boats, some of them enormous. I can see it’s a successful business. Personally, it’s a nice change from sunbathing and serial killer research.

“Can I try?” I ask. Justin’s behind the wheel of a massive forklift used to move the boats in and out of the three-story dock storage.

“Negative.”

“Why not?”

“Because this boat costs about sixty-thousand dollars and if you drop it I’m going to have to pay for it.” He shifts a lever, the muscles tensing in his forearm, and the lift runs down the side of a 20-foot-drop and into the water where Ivy waits below to guide the boat onto it. She works at the marina. I also saw Whit in the office when I used the bathroom.

“Does sh

e get to use the lift?” I ask, jerking my head in Ivy’s direction.

He doesn’t respond right away, busy with the levers and gears on the forklift. Biting his lip in concentration, he focuses on his job until the boat is securely on the lift. When he’s finished, he looks up and says, “Yeah. But she’s worked here since she was fifteen.”

“Of course,” I mutter, knowing I’m being lame. I’m jealous of a girl who’s been perfectly nice to me, because she gets to lift boats on a forklift and spend time with Justin, who, by the way, I’m spending time with right now.

I have a problem.

Justin drives the forklift into the huge warehouse used to store the boats. When he disappears around the corner, my phone buzzes, and without a second thought I answer.