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Summer stared out the window and willed her body not to shake. An employee. Why did that sting so much? After all, this was a temporary job for her, not a lifetime career. So what if he saw her as some ditzy housekeeper like in a 70s sitcom? The nanny who cleaned up the mess, made a cutesy remark, and then disappeared into her private space until the next time they needed her to spew a one-liner. She wanted this to remain a professional relationship, a job. Nothing more. Didn’t she?
He’d barely pulled into the parking lot and put the van in park before she opened her door. “You don’t have to come inside with me, Mr. Hartmann. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Please, let him stay in the car. She needed the space—the distraction—to keep her emotions in check.
Before he slid the side door fully open, she reached in and grabbed the screens. “Be right back,” she announced with forced cheer.
Head down, screens tucked under her arm, she stumbled toward the entrance. His footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn’t stop.
“Summer, will you wait up please?” he demanded.
“Summer?” A different male voice came from the double doors at the exit side of the large hardware warehouse. “It is you!”
Oh, God, no. Not Brad. Not now, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She turned slowly and faced her ex-husband with what she hoped came across as cool disdain.
“Brad? What are you doing here?”
Brad, looking smug and superior as usual, wrapped an arm around the young, perky brunette glued to his hip and rubbed her rounded belly. “Briana and I are modeling the nursery.”
The blow hit Summer in the stomach and behind the knees simultaneously. “Congratulations,” she managed to eke out before the buzz overwhelmed her brain. She felt herself collapsing, prepared to welcome the slam of the pavement.
“Whoa, easy there, Summer.” Craig’s firm grip on her elbow, and the support of his chest against her back, kept her upright. “I think you’ve had way too much sun for one day. When we get home, you’re going to sit inside and rest. No argument.” With one arm still supporting Summer around the waist, he thrust out a hand. “Craig Hartmann.”
“Brad Jackson. And this is my wife, Briana.”
“Nice to meet you both, but I better get Summer inside and cooled off.” As he turned to hustle her away, Briana fired a parting shot.
“She didn’t look like an ice princess to me, Brad. In fact, she looked kind of pathetic.”
Craig stiffened. “Pathetic?”
“No, Craig.” Summer placed a hand on his sleeve in warning. “Don’t. Just let it go.”
“Not on a bet.” He prodded her to a nearby bench and propped the screens up against the handrail. “Sit. I’ve got this.” Loud enough to stop traffic on the highway, he shouted after the departing couple. “You wanna know what’s pathetic, sweetheart? Finding out your boyfriend’s married by calling in to a radio show, breaking up his marriage, and then planning a future with the weasel.”
Summer winced. “Craig, please.”
Her face burned with embarrassment. Several people, carts loaded with two-by-fours and plywood or bags of home goods, stopped to stare. Their gazes traveled from Craig to her to Brad and Briana beating a hasty retreat through the parking lot.
Craig turned back to her with a gratified smile. “All done.” Picking up the screens, he jerked his head toward the entrance. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s go get some screens fixed. Play your cards right, I might take you out for dinner afterward.”
“I can’t go out for dinner.” She rose, stretched her arms wide, and gestured at her stained shorts, the mud spattering her ankles, the red welts from bug bites on her legs. “Look at me.”
“You look great.”
Yeah, right. This was definitely not the pose she’d hoped to strike the first time she saw her ex-husband since their divorce was final. Why couldn’t she have run into Brad next week at April’s wedding? When she’d be wearing a couture gown, and be totally in her element, running the social event of the year? But no. She had to come face to face with him and his child bride—who was already with child herself—when she was an emotional and physical wreck.
“I look like I just crawled out of a swamp.”
“Nah.” He threw a casual arm around her shoulders. “Swamp creatures are usually green from all the algae. Besides, where I’m planning to take you, it won’t matter.”
“Yeah? Why’s that? It’s dark?”
“No.” He led her inside, the screens gripped against his waist. “I think I’m going to keep it a surprise for now.”
“Please, no. I’ve had enough surprises for one day.”
He squeezed her harder against his side. “Trust me.”
Trust him? Throwing his earlier words back at him, she mumbled, “Not on a bet.”
♥
WITH THE SCREENS DROPPED off for repair, Craig made a phone call to his father at home before leaving the Hardware Expo parking lot. “Order in takeout for you and the kids. Summer and I are going to be a little longer than I anticipated.”
Summer swerved her gaze his way, disapproval etched on her face. “Craig!”
He cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. “Relax. The kids will enjoy a little junk food for a change. They’ve been eating healthy stuff since you arrived. Their poor bodies are going into withdrawal, what with all those leafy vegetables and juicy fruits.” Dropping his hand again, he finished his conversation with his dad.
“Everything okay, Craig?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine. We just need to talk about some stuff, and I’d prefer to do it without an audience, if you catch my drift.”
“Okay, then. I’ll let the kids know. And Craig? Whatever Summer wants to talk about, you be sure to listen to her. She knows a lot and she only wants what’s best for you and the kids. Ya hear?”
“I hear.”
“She’s good people.”
He cast a sidelong glance her way. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Thanks, Dad. Bye.” Stuffing the phone in his pocket, he turned to Summer. “Ready?”
She arched a brow. “For what?”
“Dinner, of course.” He started the engine and put the van in drive.
On a sigh, she turned to stare out the window. “I guess so.”
A wave of sympathy washed over him. Dealing with an ex was never easy. And from what he’d seen in today’s exchange, Summer needed someone to talk to, someone who could make her see the humor in what happened. If there was any humor in what happened.
“And we’re off,” he announced as he drove out of the parking lot.
Minutes later, he pulled into the drive-through line at a fast-food joint.
That’s when Summer finally turned to face him, her expression one of pure disgust. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. For what it’s worth, this place offers a veggie burger combo. I’ve never eaten it, of course, but I’ve heard it’s tasty. As veggie burgers go, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Me? I’m an all-beef-patty kinda guy. So, what’s it going to be?”
Another sigh. “I guess I’ll have the veggie burger.”
He slipped into a fake French accent. “An excellent choice, mademoiselle. Of course, you’ll want that with a side order of pomme frites. And may I suggest a bit of the bubbly to go with your meal? We have a wonderful California cola, or would you prefer the bouquet of the more citrusy lemon-lime soda to complement your dining experience?”
She finally cracked a smile—hesitant, but there, nonetheless. “Oh, the lemon-lime. Diet.”
“Oui. It will be as you wish, mademoiselle.” When they rolled up to the speaker, he placed their order, adding two apple pies. “For dessert,” he told her with a wink.
At the window, the clerk handed out the soft drinks first, and he set them in the cup holder in the console. When he took the bag of food, he passed it to Summer. She started to open the top, but he crushed the bag’s edge in his fist. “Nope. Not yet. I’ll tell you when.”
After leaving the restaurant, he drove down the main road leading to the local beach. He pulled into the narrow strip of parking lot that faced the water and backed into a slot. With the van in park, he cut the engine, grabbed the bag of food from Summer, and opened the driver’s door. After he released his seatbelt and stepped onto the asphalt, he hit the button on his key fob to lift the trunk door. Once he brushed the few stray Cheerios off the gray cloth liner, he sat in the rear of the van, legs dangling from the bumper, and signaled Summer to join him.
“Come on.” He patted the flat surface next to him, then pointed to the fiery sun sinking into the Long Island Sound. “Dinner and a show.”
She settled beside him with a ghost of a smile.
“Here, have a fry.” He passed her the cardboard box of uniform deep-fried potatoes. “That should make you happy.”
“Is that all it takes for you to be happy?”
Digging inside the bag, he located her veggie burger, held it out to her. “Sometimes, yeah. You wanna tell me what happened back there with your ex?”
She practically ripped the burger out of his hand. “Not particularly. You want to tell me about Chelsea?”
“Touché.”
“I mean, I knew he married the twit,” she blurted. “I just didn’t know the twit was with twitlet.” She leaned back, staring at the van’s roof, and sighed heavily. “You have no idea how much that hurts.”
Silence reigned for several long minutes as they ate.
“I have to tell you,” Summer said at last. “This is not a very good veggie burger.”
“It’s from a fast-food joint. What’d you expect?”
Her smile a tad more genuine, she nodded, bit into another fry. “The fries are good though. It’s been years since I had them.”
He saluted her with his bacon cheeseburger. “Welcome to the dark side.”
Finished with her sandwich, she crumpled the wrapper and dropped it into the bag. The sun had already sunk beneath the water line of the Long Island Sound. Twilight settled around them.
“How about a walk?” he suggested. “Before Security tosses us outta here?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Whoa, easy, Summer. That’s way too much enthusiasm for a simple little walk on the beach on a pleasant summer evening. You might wanna rein in your excitement.”
Another half-smile flashed on her face. “I guess I’m not very good company tonight.”
“You had a bad day, and I’m sorry about that.” He picked up the bag full of trash and hopped out of the van. “Come on. It’s a nice night.”
“Thanks.”
She smoothed her shorts with her hands, which instantly had Craig appreciating her long legs yet again.
“It’s not your fault, you know.” When he simply stared at her without replying, she added, “Okay, you weren’t exactly blameless. And I was really peeved at you. Now I’m just mad at myself.”
Tearing his gaze away from her legs, he closed the trunk and locked the van. “I’ve been there. But don’t go kicking yourself. He’s a bum, you’re better off without him.”
“Let’s just take that walk and enjoy the evening, okay?”
In other words, he’d touched on a taboo subject. “Okay.”
He took her hand and strode toward the sidewalk that separated the parking lot from the beach. The fast-food bag took a quick bank shot into the nearest trash can. He led her off the sidewalk. Shells and stones crunched beneath their feet. At the water’s edge, he stopped. The only sound around them came from the soft whoosh of the gentle waves.
“Tide’s coming in,” he noted.
“Uh-huh.”
God, he hated small talk. His usual approach was to go straight for the jugular. But Summer would only freeze like a winter ice storm if he continued with that delivery. He bent to pick up a smooth, flat stone, then flung it to skip across the sound’s surface three times before sinking with a plop.
“How’d you do that?”
He turned to Summer, puzzlement etching his brow. “Skip a rock? You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” She clutched her hands in front of her waist. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the athletic type.”
“You? The queen of the one-handed Wiffle ball batting stance?” He snorted. “Imagine that.”
“I still managed to kick your butt that night.”
“Puh-leez.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I let you win, and you know it.”
At last, her perfect lips stretched into an honest-to-goodness happy smile. “Yes, I knew it. How about you teach me how to skip a rock tonight, and next time I’ll let you win at Wiffle ball?”
“Okay. First, let’s find a good stone for skipping.” He picked up several, tested their weight and breadth in his palm before selecting two ideal candidates. He handed one to her and kept the second. “Now, hold it with the flat end even between your thumb and fingers.”
Her first three attempts failed miserably, sinking before ever accomplishing one skip. When the fourth stone didn’t even touch water, instead landing about a foot from where they stood, she sighed. “I told you I’m not very athletic.”
“Here.” He stepped behind her, one hand pivoting her at the waist, the other guiding her elbow. “Your stance is wrong.” With his chin perched near the crook of her neck, he held his breath to keep from inhaling that familiar roses-and-vanilla scent to her skin. “Now, pull back...” He pulled her arm back and pushed it forward. “...and release.”
The rock danced over the water’s surface—not far, but distance wasn’t the objective for this exercise.
“I did it!” She whirled, her face so close he could taste the salt on her lips. Shuddering, she inhaled sharply.
Regret rode heavy on his shoulders as he took a giant step backward. “Yup. You did it. Now, let’s go celebrate with apple pies.”