Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

He’s still hot, but he’s definitely not innocent and adorable. He’s a jerk and he’s cruel, and I’m not about to be fooled by his dimples again.

“I knew it!” Birdie shouts, pointing her figure at me accusatorially. “You liar! I specifically asked you if anything exciting happened the last few weeks, and you said no!”

“Uh, that’s probably because it hadn’t happened yet when I talked to you earlier today, and I can’t see into the future. He came to the Dip and Twist like, forty-five minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Tess mutters, her eyes widening in shock. “So he didn’t come and see you a few weeks ago when he was here?”

“What!” I screech, quickly lowering my voice when I remember my son is probably trying to sleep not that far away. “What do you mean he was here a few weeks ago? Why am I just now finding out this information?”

“He stopped by at the tail end of that game of Owen’s you couldn’t make it to because you had to work. He swore us to secrecy, which was actually kind of weird, since you guys haven’t seen each other or talked since you were like, twenty, but whatever,” Birdie tells me as she refills my glass and tops off Tess’s, a heated flush coming over my skin, knowing my sister is going to borrow one of Tess’s lighters and set me on fire when I tell her everything. “And then I got busy getting ready for Hawaii, you never said anything, and I kind of forgot about it until I got back. I don’t know why he left last time without talking to you, when he specifically mentioned wanting to tell you he was here himself, but yay for you! No wonder you’re drinking to celebrate, although you’re being kind of dramatic about it. Your favorite baseball player in the whole world came and said hi. You must be freaking out. Did you ask him what David Beckham smells like? I know they’re friends. Was it everything you thought it would be? Did you have him sign your shirt? Turn around; let me see.”

If I didn’t feel so guilty right now, I’d find it incredibly cute my sister is excited for me, thinking the celebrity pro baseball player Shepherd Oliver stopped by the Dip and Twist to see little ole me. I swat Birdie’s hand away when she leans over the counter and grabs my shoulder to try to look at the back of my shirt.

Too bad celebrity pro baseball player Shepherd Oliver didn’t stop by the Dip and Twist tonight. Just a guy who really meant something to me, who made my stressful days at work go by faster, and who made the lonely nights after Owen went to bed or when he spent the night elsewhere ones filled with laughter and a lot less loneliness. I lied to him about watching him play on TV, and I lied about how big of a fan I was and just how much I knew about baseball, but I didn’t lie to him when I told him I honestly always forgot he was a big deal unless he brought it up. He was just Shepherd to me. Someone I could be myself with, someone I didn’t feel like I had to mother, and just someone who cared about me other than my family.

Or so I thought.

Since I don’t have enough room in my brain right now for one more thing to add to the WTF section located right over the nerve that makes my eye twitch, I decide to worry about why the hell Shepherd came here a few weeks ago, mentioned me to my family, and then left without even talking to me until tonight. Not wanting to put this off any longer, I take another couple of huge sips of my wine before setting the glass back down and calmly folding my hands together to rest them on the counter. As quickly as possible, I give my sister and Tess the CliffsNotes version of my yearlong… whatever with Shepherd Oliver before he stopped talking to me with no explanation last year, until I saw him again tonight.

God, his lips are perfect. And that extra muscle on his lean frame is just glorious—

Nope! Focus, Wren! He’s a jerk who doesn’t give a crap about you.

“Shit. She ain’t lyin’,” Tess says.

Birdie is still scarily quiet, and I look away from her wide eyes locked right on me to see that Tess is scrolling through something on my phone. I lean over and see she’s pulled up my Instagram and is currently looking through all of Shepherd’s and my private messages.

“Oh my God, Tess, boundaries!” I scold her, snatching my phone out of her hand. “You don’t just take someone else’s phone and start reading their messages.”