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

“Don’t be. That asshole had it coming.” He bends down and kisses me. “I see Nick talked you into coming back.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“He’s a sweet-talker. I would’ve made things worse.”

“I doubt that.” My fingers are twisted in his T-shirt. I don’t know if I realized how much I missed him until this very moment. “How much trouble did you get, punching Mason?”

“Randy, the owner of the bar, called the cops and arrested me and Mason for fighting.” His jaw tenses. “It’s not my first bar fight.”

“Shit. Whit, that is not okay.” I think of how Maggie was holding him back. She knew he was likely to jump in. The idea of Whit going to jail for me or any sort of punishment is a weight too much. “What about school?”

“There will be a discipline hearing before I can start.” He brushes a string of hair out of my face. “I’ve been in a lot of fights, Summer, but this was the first one I believed in. No one treats my girl like that and gets away clean. No one.”

His words hit me in the chest, so pure and honest. Mason had rejected me when things got tough. My dad is barely around—he doesn’t even know what happened to me. But this guy and his shaggy long hair, sexy smile, and killer body risked it all for me. I’ve never experienced that before.

“Thank you for defending me,” I say, linking my arms around his neck.

“Anytime, babe.” His lips meet mine again and his kiss is brighter than the sun. I feel his hands running up and down my back and exhale, absorbing everything about the moment; the sun, the water, and especially him. “I’m just glad you came back.”

“I think you guys are stuck with me now.”

“I can think of worse things.”

I fall into him, probably similar to my mother down the dock and in the house. I’ve got two of these Ocean Beach Boys back on my side…there’s just two to go.

* * *

There’s nothing like fighting tourists at the Jiffy Mart the morning of the Fourth of July. All I need is a couple of items from the dairy section, some chips, and two cans of beans, yet I’ve spent ten minutes dodging grocery carts full of hotdogs, screaming kids, and two guys each carrying out five bags of ice.

Oh right, and Justin.

He’s over in the beer section with Bobby, filling their own cart with a variety of brands. I’ve known them both long enough to appreciate that Bobby has a preference for cheap, American beer, where Justin tends to favor the quirkier, independent breweries. Sure enough, as I hide behind a display of soda, I can hear that’s exactly what they’re fighting about.

“Dude, no one cares what it tastes like—this case of PBR is only twenty bucks,” Bobby argues.

Justin’s jaw is set and he shakes his head. “I’m not drinking that crap.”

“Are you kidding me? Is this what you learned in college? Snobby beers?”

“Stop being stupid. Just get some of both. I’ll pay for it.”

“Whatever,” Bobby says with a grin. He tosses a couple more cases into his cart before rolling off.

I peek around the corner, expecting to find them gone, and instead come face to face with Justin.

“Oh!” I say in surprise. I wonder when he spotted me.

“Hiding from me?” he asks.

“Avoiding me?”

His eyes drop. “Not exactly. I heard you were back in town.”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

“Nick talked you into it, didn’t he?”

&nb