It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

“What are you thinking about down there?”

That if I’m not careful, there are going to be little sea captain babies scampering around.

And how bad did that sound, anyway?

Not bad at all. Kind of amazing, actually.

“I was thinking that I’m proud of you,” she finally answered, rebuttoning his shirt. “You tried tiramisu today. And . . . and you just plan trips to Seattle now. On a whim. You’re like a new man. And I was thinking . . .”

How she’d changed a lot, too, since coming to Westport. Since meeting Brendan. What she’d thought before was living life to the fullest had actually been living life for other people to watch. To gawk at. She wouldn’t lie to herself and pretend one month had completely cured her of her deeply rooted yen for attention. For praise. For what she’d once interpreted as love. Now, though? She was participating in her own life. Not just posing and pretending. The world was so much bigger than her, and she was really seeing it now. She was really looking.

In the dressing room while trying on jeans, it didn’t even occur to her to snap a selfie in the mirror. She just wanted to be there, in the moment, with this man. Because the way he made her feel was three million times better than the way three million strangers made her feel.

Holy God. Was she going to tell Brendan she loved him?

Yeah.

Yeah, she was.

If she thought breaking into a rooftop pool and summoning the police department was crazy, this felt a million times riskier. This was like rappelling down the side of that LA hotel with sticks of dynamite poking out of her ears. Because she was new at this, and the road to finding out exactly where she fit into her new place was a long one.

What if, ultimately, she didn’t fit at all?

The way she’d felt when Adrian cut her loose would be laughable compared to disappointing Brendan. He knew exactly who he was (commander of a vessel), what he wanted (a fleet of boats), and how to get it (apparently make millions of dollars and just have boats built??). Meanwhile, she’d spent a week trying to find a chandelier with the right vibe.

This could be a disaster.

But she looked into his eyes now and heard his words echo back from the deck of the Della Ray. You have perseverance, character, and a huge heart.

And she chose to believe him.

She chose to believe in herself.

“Brendan, I—”

Her phone went nuts in her purse. Loud, scattered notes that she didn’t immediately place because it had been so long since hearing them.

“Oh.” She reared back a little. “That’s Kirby’s ringtone.”

“Kirby.” His brows snuck together. “The girl who turned you in to the police?”

“The one and only. She hasn’t called me since I left.” Something told her not to, but she unzipped her purse and took out the phone anyway, weighing it in her hand. “I wonder if something is wrong. Maybe I should answer.”

Brendan said nothing, just studied her face.

Her indecision lasted too long, and the phone stopped screaming.

She blew out a breath of relief, glad the decision had been taken out of her hands—and then the phone started blowing up. It wasn’t just Kirby calling again; it was text messages from names she vaguely recognized, email pings . . . and now another number with an LA area code was calling on the other line. What was going on?

“I guess I should take this,” she muttered, frowning. “Can I meet you by the elevators?”

“Yeah,” Brendan said after a moment, seeming like he wanted to say more.

“It’s just a phone call.”

When that statement came out sounding like she was trying to reassure herself, too, she cut her losses and left the shop. Was it just a phone call, though? Her finger hovered over the green answer button. This was the first time her LA life had touched her since coming to Washington. She hadn’t even answered yet, but it felt like someone was shaking her in bed, trying to wake her up from a dream.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she scolded herself quietly, hitting talk. “Hey, Kirby. Really stretched that apology window, didn’t you, babe?”

Piper frowned at her reflection in the steel elevator bank. Was it her imagination or did she sound completely different talking to her LA friends?

“Piper! I did apologize! Didn’t I? Oh my God, if not, I am, like, down on my knees. Seriously. I was such a terrible friend. I just couldn’t afford for my dad to cut me off.”

Why, oh, why did she answer the call? “Yeah, neither could I.” It might have something to do with the endless dings and vibrations happening against her ear. “Look, it’s fine, Kirby. I don’t hold it against you. What’s up?”

“What’s up? Are you serious?” A few honks fired off in the background, the sound of a bus motoring past. “Have you seen the cover of LA Weekly?”