The Summer of Us (Mission Cove 1)

I inhaled, a sweet smell wafting through the air hitting me. Across the street was a bakery—new since I’d lived here. The door was open, the scent of fresh baking inviting. I read the sign with a smile. Biscuits and Buns. My stomach rumbled, and I headed in the direction of the tempting smell. I would grab a snack then head up to the house.

I stepped in, the aroma intensifying. There was one thing that smelled that good. Biscuits. I hadn’t had one in years, but the scent alone was enough to bring back the most bittersweet of memories.

Sunny baking. Looking happy as she handed me a plate of warm biscuits soaked in butter and laden with jam. Her grandmother had taught her how to make them, and they were my favorite thing to eat. I shut my eyes as the feelings the memory stirred began to overwhelm me.

A throat clearing broke through my scattered brain.

“May I help you?”

My eyes flew open, and I stared at the mirage in front of me.

It had to be a mirage, right? I had been thinking of her so much that morning, it couldn’t possibly be real.

But there, standing behind the counter, was Sunny. Her hair was still as bright, her beautiful eyes dark, setting off the ivory color of her skin. The girl was gone, replaced by a woman so lovely, it made my chest ache.

She frowned and spoke again in a voice I would recognize until my last breath. “Are you all right? Can I help you?”

I stepped closer, trying to find my voice. She tilted her head, studying me, wary. Up close, I could see more changes. Her eyes, once so bright and alive, were dimmer. Sad. Her hair was swept into a thick coil at the back of her neck—Sunny always hated to wear her hair up. She was as tiny as I recalled, and there was a coolness to her manner she’d never projected before. Reserved and formal.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at me. She began to worry her lip the way I remembered her doing. Her breathing picked up, whether in fear of the stranger in front of her, or some long-forgotten recollection of the boy I was to her surfacing—I didn’t know.

I pulled off my glasses and met her confused stare. Her eyes widened in shock as we locked gazes. Years fell away, and the warmth of her stare that always filled me up hit me all over again. I was seventeen, staring at the girl I was in love with.

The girl I still loved, now a woman, a virtual stranger, who could still bring me to my knees with a glance.

“L-Linc?”

I sighed at the way my name sounded on her lips. How the letters sounded when she said them.

“Sunny,” I replied, my voice low.

Then her expression changed. Bewilderment and anger brought her shoulders up and a scowl to her face.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

I cleared my throat. “Ah, some family business.”

She barked out a dry laugh. “Family business. Yes, I know all about your family business. What are you doing in my shop?”

Her anger wasn’t unexpected, but I had never heard Sunny’s voice be so cold.

“When did you move back here?” I replied.

“How do you know I ever left?” she shot back.

I leaned on the counter, incredulous. “I looked for you. You had disappeared.”

Her eyes widened, but before she could retort, a young girl came through the door at the back.

“The last batch is done, boss. You want me to start on some cookies?”

Sunny moved back. It was then I realized how close we had moved toward the other. I rose to my full height, stepping away from the counter.

“Yes, Shannon. Let’s do the ginger ones today.”

Shannon eyed me curiously, then smiled at Sunny, before disappearing through the door. “On it, boss.”

We stared at each other.

“As much as I’d love to go down memory lane with you,” Sunny informed me, her voice icy and filled with sarcasm, “I have a business to run. Do you want anything, or did you come in here to bring more upheaval into my life?”

I blinked. “I smelled biscuits.”

She barked out another laugh. Even that sound was foreign. I recalled her sweet, low laughter. Her lighthearted giggle. This was neither of those.

She reached below the counter and grabbed two biscuits, shoving them in a bag. “There.”

“I was going to—”

She cut me off. “No. You’re going to take the biscuits and get the hell out of my shop and my life, Linc.”

“Sunny, I want to talk. I need to—”

Again, she cut me off. “I said no. You had plenty of time to talk while I pined away for you. I no longer care what you need.”

“But I—”

“Get out, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

I stared at the angry, cold woman in front of me. This wasn’t Sunny. Not the Sunny I remembered. Then again, I wasn’t the same boy.