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

“There are a couple more on my list, plus I’ll just keep looking in the employment records. Maybe I can track them that way.” Every day I learn a new trick to gathering information. She has dozens. She really may have missed her chance to be the next Nancy Drew. “Actually, do you know where the library is? I may dash in and see if they have anything.”

“Yeah, it’s a couple blocks over.”

The building isn’t anything special. Just a small red brick building with the familiar paper scent that lingers in places with a lot of books. I

n the corner is a woman reading a story to a group of children. My mother pays us no attention and heads straight to the desk. In a matter of moments, they’re off in some dark corner of the building that holds ancient records and Nick and I are left alone.

“Should we go help?” he asks, watching my mother’s retreating form.

“Nah, she’ll tell us if she needs anything.”

A couple of the parents nearby give us a dirty look for talking and I slink down a stack of books. Nick follows.

We’re quiet—he’s quiet all the time—and driving around the backroads of South Carolina gives me a lot of time to watch him. He’s physical in a different way than the surfer boys; more intentional—a threat. He’s huge and it’s not hard to imagine him on the football field.

“How come you don’t surf like the others?” I whisper, pulling a book from the shelf. It’s about bugs. I pretend I’m interested. “You’re never there in the morning.”

“I used to but now I have a conditioning schedule I have to meet. I drive into town to the gym every morning.”

That makes sense. “It’s mandatory?”

“Yep. Surfing is a big workout but not the kind my coaches want.” He removes a book and flips through the pages. The scent of decaying paper is strong and pleasing.

“You don’t seem as upset as Whit about going to the Citadel.”

He doesn’t respond right away, looping around me and grazing my shoulder as he goes for another book. This one is filled with magnificent photographs of wildlife. “I’m proud of my family tradition and want to continue it. My grandfather and his brothers and my father and his brothers…they all went to the school. It feels right. Whit sees it as an obligation. I view it like a rite-of-passage. Like a piece of my personal puzzle that has to fit into place.”

I turn to face him and over my shoulder he slides the book back in place, but leaves his hand resting against the shelves. “I never had any family that I knew about until I came here. I get what you’re saying about puzzles. Suddenly things about my mom and her upbringing make a little more sense.”

“Things like your name?”

“My name?”

He grins and leans in a little closer. My heart skips. “Clearly she named you after her favorite time of year—the one time she felt happiest.”

I frown. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

I’d never thought about it much—I just figured she liked the name or something—but like with everything else, there’s intent and meaning. The naming of her only child would be no different.

It’s a revelation and I find myself gazing at his face, his lips and eyes. We’re in this moment alone, away from the sing-song voice of the storyteller and the stuffy rules of the librarian. We’re quiet. So very quiet.

Can he hear my heart beating? No? Just me?

“I heard you’ve been asking about our pact.” He’s close enough I can smell the mint on his breath.

“You guys gossip like school girls, you know that?” Heat runs up my neck at being caught.

He smiles slowly. “We’re tight. And it’s okay. If you’re going to get involved with the four of us, you should know what you’re getting into.”

My stomach tightens at the insinuation. And I have a heightened awareness he’s the only one I haven’t kissed. It would be so easy to do it now.

He licks his bottom lip and he knows it, too.

“Thank you, Margorie,” I hear over the stacks of books. Nick straightens and poof, the moment vanishes. “You’ve been incredibly helpful.”

With my heart still hammering I walk down the aisle, all too aware of the boy behind me.