“And you call yourself a mother?”

I shoot her a long, cold look. She’d sold me out and phoned my dad at the firehouse. Just so that he can do his handshake thing.

This routine started when Kendra went to her first boy-girl dance. It has carried through for the many boys who have ever come to pick her up as well as those few who’ve done so for me.

Before any first date, the boy has to meet Dad face-to-face. He looms over them and gives them that big fireman handshake. The one they use to pull people from burning buildings. All he does is smile, but the message is clear: “Be good to my girl. Or else.”

There’s a knock at the door, and I go to open it. Kendra reaches over and stops me.

“No way. You’ll look too eager,” she tells me. “Go back to your room. I’ll answer.”

I grab her arm. “No way.” I notice the bare midriff and the short shorts. “You’ll look too Kendra.”

Mom just shakes her head and goes to the door and lets him in. I’m sure we look like idiots all clumped together in the front room. But if we do, he doesn’t seem to react.

I introduce him to everyone, and he’s great with them. He even handles Dad’s handshake without being intimidated. (Years of tennis have given him a strong handshake.)

He scores major points by not rushing out the door. Instead, he sits in the living room and talks for a few minutes so my parents can get to know him.

“So, Mr. Quincy, Jane told me that you two like to watch documentaries together,” he says, recalling our very first conversation.

Dad actually smiles. “I didn’t know she felt that way. Well have to watch more.”

“I only bring it up because my mother makes documentaries,” Alex says. “Maybe you’ve seen one of them.”

“What type does she do?” Dad asks.

“She did this show on the History Channel called Hands on History. With the guy learning about how products have evolved over the years.”

“That’s a good show,” he says. “There’s one about Louisville Sluggers.” Dads so excited that he’s forgotten to be intimidating.

“That’s the one,” Alex says proudly. “That’s my mom’s show.”

“Tell her that she’s got a fan,” Dad says.

Alex turns to my mother. “And Jane says you’re an English teacher. That’s my favorite subject. I’m even thinking about majoring in English.”

Mom deals with a lot of kids, so I can tell she wants to make sure that he’s not feeding her a line.

“Really? Who’s your favorite author?” she asks, always the teacher.

“Steinbeck,” he answers. “I especially like The Grapes of Wrath.”

Unbelievable. That’s moms favorite book. She’s sold. “Good answer. I like him too.”

Leave it to Kendra to break the moment. “So what does she say about me?”

He smiles and answers. “Actually, she’s never mentioned you.”

Everybody laughs—even Kendra. I suggest that we should get going. As I leave, my mom flashes me a sly grin and nods her approval. I can’t help but smile back.

“That was incredible,” I say, nodding toward the house. “I think they’re ready to adopt you.”

He smiles. “After a couple of weeks with Josie, you really begin to appreciate quality adults.”

He’s the total gentleman and opens the car door for me. Then he gets in and asks, “Where would you like to go? I figure you know the town better.”

“There is this one place,” I say, unsure. “I don’t know if you like Mexican, but it’s called Mama Taco’s and it’s right on the beach.”

“Are we dressed okay?”

I laugh at the idea of Mama Taco’s having any dress code. “Their policy is pretty much, ‘No shirt, no shoes, no problem.’”

“Sounds like my kind of place,” he says.

I really do like Mama Taco’s. But I have a slight ulterior motive. When we walk into the restaurant, we walk right past a table where Becca and Melanie are already eating. Becca winks as we pass by, and Melanie pretends to fan herself with her menu.

Everything about the night is great—except for one thing. We hardly talk. And when we do, it’s kind of nothing stuff, like about Mexican food or the decorations on the wall.

I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

I blame it on our little Animal Planet mission at the beach party. We studied so many different types of girls and their behavior that now I don’t know how to act or what to say.

Finally our food’s ready and at least we have an excuse for the pauses. I’m having my regular, chicken nachos, while he’s got a taco platter. He likes it, but I can tell he doesn’t love it. I should have thought of a better place.

Melanie gives me a look as she and Becca go into the bathroom. After a few moments, I excuse myself and follow them in.

“Such the major hottie,” Bec says the second the door shuts.

“How’s it going?” Mel asks.

“Pretty good, I guess. We don’t seem to have much to talk about. But I think it’s just nervousness.”

Becca puts an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here for you.”

I give her a stern look. “No, you won’t. The deal was you could look, but now you’ve got to scram. I’m already too selfconscious.”

They look disappointed. “Okay,” Becca says. “But fill us in tomorrow.”

After dinner, Alex and I walk out to the deck.

It’s now-or-never time.

“Want to walk on the beach?” I ask him. “We can keep our distance from the water.”

He smiles. “I’d love to.”

From the deck, there’s a boardwalk that goes out over the dunes. It’s really amazing because at first you hear all the commotion of the restaurant, and the cars on the street. But, once you pass the dunes, all that sound is blocked out and all you hear are the wooden boards creaking beneath your feet and the surf washing up on the sand.

Luckily it’s low tide, so there’s a really wide stretch of sand for us to walk on.

“You should take off your shoes,” I tell him. “The sand feels really good at night. There’s water trapped under it and it keeps it cool.”

He takes off his sneakers and tucks his socks in them. He goes to carry them.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Just leave them,” I say. “No one will take them.”

He chuckles. “Okay. I guess that’s the city boy in me.”

I slip off my sandals and do the same.

“You’re right,” he says as we walk. “The sand does feel good at night.”

This is everything I could hope for. The pauses in the conversation don’t matter, because there are so many great sounds—the waves, the gulls, a nice breeze.

After a couple of blocks we come to a large wooden lifeguard chair. It’s about twelve feet high to give the lifeguard a good view of the beach. And it’s just wide enough for two people to cuddle in together.

We climb up and look out at the ocean. The moon is full and it’s a cloudy night, so little shafts of light dance around us. Everything is great, except he obviously has something on his mind.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t like Mama Taco ’s,” I say.

“No,” he answers. “I thought it was great.”

I look over at him. “It’s just that it seemed like something was bothering you a little. It still does.”

He mulls this over. “Well, there is a problem, kind of.”

Uh-oh, here’s where I learn about the girlfriend back home in Washington.

“The problem is that I really like you,” he says.

I smile. “And that’s a problem?”

“In a way,” he answers. “I don’t live here. And, by the end of the summer, I’m going to have to go back home to Washington. So part of me says that it’s not a good idea to get involved with anyone.”

I think about it.

“Maybe,” I say. “But I know that going in. What does that other part of you say?”

He pauses for a moment. “The other part says that I should just shut up and kiss you.”

I smile. “I think that part’s got it right.”

We start to kiss lightly, and I can taste the salt air on his lips. Pretty soon, the kiss grows deeper and more passionate.

That’s when I close my eyes, just like the girls in the movies.