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

It’s a long car ride home and I realize that Nick and I barely spoke a word on the way back from Conway until we dropped him at the edge of the road that leads to Richard’s house.

“It looks like it may rain,” Mom says, glancing out the window toward the island. The sky is dark and ominous. I guess there goes my date to the beach. On cue, my phone buzzes as we turn into our gravel drive.

“That thing never stops,” she says.

“It’s just the girls,” I lie. “Updating me on their trip. They leave in a couple of days.”

Truthfully, I haven’t heard from the girls since the random call from Catherine the other day. Even Mason has fallen off the radar. All of the texts today came from Justin. The sneaky bastard’s working his way into my heart, with silly photos and stupid messages. It’s easier to lie than admit this to my mother after her drunken confession about the Hawkins men. I slip the phone into my purse on the floor, knowing already he’s reminding me about tonight. His eagerness is endearing.

“The girls, huh?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Justin waits outside the camper, lounging on the patio chairs and messing with his phone.

I give her a sheepish grin and get out of the car. Justin’s already out of his chair and I smile at the expectant look on his face. He’s happy to see me. A low rumble of thunder interrupts me saying hello.

“Good afternoon, Justin,” my mother says from behind me.

“Ma’am,” he says, showing his southern roots. “Make any progress on the book today?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” she says. “But I’ve got some notes to transcribe.”

Mom disappears into the trailer, leaving the two of us alone. His hand finds mine the moment she’s gone. I notice he’s showered and changed already. The damp ends of his faux-hawk blow in the wind. “Thought you had to work late,” I say.

“I know the boss and checked out early. Is that okay?”

“Yep,” I say. “I’m guessing though that date on the beach isn’t going to happen.”

“There are other things we can do.”

“Like what?” I suspect I know the answer to that.

“My place?” he suggests.

The pit of my stomach warms and I really want to say yes. “That sounds nice…”

“But?”

I shrug, not wanting to make excuses or offend him. “Show me around instead. Take me somewhere local and fun.”

He laughs and says, “You realize where we are, right? Nothing much around here but touristy things.”

“Come on,” I say. “Show me where you go with the guys. Or where you’d take a local girl on a date if a massive thunderstorm was on the way.”

“Really?”

“Sure, I want the insider’s track to Ocean Beach.”

“If you say so,” he says, still looking skeptical. “Go get ready. I’ll wait out here.”

“Ten minutes,” I say, leaving him under the canopy as the first drops of rain start to fall.

* * *

The storm rages hard enough outside that I can hear the thunder over the pinball machines, although the two kids fighting over foosball in the corner are making enough racket to compete. The air is greasy and everything has a fishy, fried smell, but the basket of fries between us tastes like heaven.

“Do you eat hot sauce on everything?” he asks, dipping a fry into his own glob of ketchup.

“Duh. It’s delicious.”

“Gross.”