Sun-Kissed Summer Page 6

  “Well, well, well, Hayes. Looks like you’re doing just about as good as you were the last time we raced against each other,” an unfamiliar voice says, instantly putting more tension in Ollie’s shoulders… and fists. “Laid out flat and needing medical attention.” He snickers. “I guess some things never change.”

  I scramble to my feet and dust sand from my skirt as Oliver stands, ignoring the two guys the best he can, and starts to untangle the ropes of the kite that sent me flying through the air until Ollie broke my fall. Yep. Spectacular fail.

  One which I apparently had an audience for, too. Lovely.

  While the two guys continue to laugh at their snide remark about Oliver being laid out and needing medical attention, an obvious dig at his accident last summer, this particular mishap is entirely my fault.

  “I’m so sorry.” I squint through the bright afternoon sun and try to ignore the embarrassment burning my cheeks since my little audience hasn’t moved on just yet. If they’re waiting for another show, they’ll be waiting a while because I’m done for the day—and by the looks of Oliver, he is too. “I don’t know what happened. I pulled down a little too much on one side and then when I tried to fix it, I was yanked off my feet and well… you know the rest.”

  “Hey, no worries.” Oliver lets the air out of the kite and starts to fold it up. “It was your first time, and I probably should have spent more time explaining the different power zones before we got started. So I’m the sorry one. Are you okay, though?”

  “I’m fine, really.” I offer Oliver a sheepish smile. “But you know my feelings won’t be hurt if you want to do the kite-surfing contest with someone else. Maybe one of the dishwashers? I’m sure they would be better at this kind of thing. Heck, Big Pop would probably be better than me at this kind of thing.”

  A loud, sharp laugh causes me to glance over my shoulder as one of the guys looks me up and down, while the other busies himself with his kite.

  “So this is your competition, huh? Looks like you and Lacy will have this one in the bag,” the tall, dark-haired guy who appears to be in his early twenties says to the other guy, obviously trying to goad Oliver into reacting since his first comment went unacknowledged. And it works.

  “You know what, Garrison? Considering I’ve beat both you, and your brother Brad, in the last two competitions we went head to head in, I wouldn’t count us out just yet, dick.”

  Despite the blinding afternoon sun, my eyes widen. Did he just say Brad? As in Brad Garrison?

  I twist completely around to get a better look and sure enough, there he is, standing next to the jerky guy who’s been doing all the talking. I swallow hard. My silly girlhood crush sets my cheeks on fire the same way it did yesterday when he came into the restaurant. But just like yesterday, I don’t expect him to even notice I’m alive.

  Until he does.

  “Hey, don’t listen to my brother,” Brad says, locking eyes with me and sending my heart into overdrive. “Trevor can be a dick when it comes to competitions, and he obviously doesn’t know how to speak to a lady.”

  Speak to a lady? Is he talking to me? I peek over my shoulder at Oliver, who’s coiled tighter than his kite lines, and realize that unless Brad was calling Oliver a lady, he was definitely talking to me.

  A tentative smile stretches across my face as I turn back around. “It’s okay. Your brother’s probably right though. Oliver getting stuck with me doesn’t seem fair when he’s so good and I’m… well, me.”

  “Katie, I’m not stuck with you. I want to be with you,” Oliver says, striding up to my side and stopping as his jaw muscle ticks in time with the lapping water. “I mean, you know, to be my partner.” He lets out a long sigh. “And don’t worry.” He smiles, giving me a reassuring nudge. “You’ll get the hang of it. But maybe at a different beach next time since this one’s a little crowded.”

  I peer around and then let out a small laugh considering we’re the only four out here—unless he meant Brad’s brother’s ego.

  “Katie is it? Hi, I’m Brad,” he says with a flirty smile as he reaches out his hand to shake mine, causing Oliver to twitch at my side like an overprotective brother. This time, I hold back my laughter, since I’m fairly positive Oliver has nothing to worry about. Brad’s just being polite after his brother was so rude. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. First time to the Keys?”

  Dropping my eyes to my feet, embarrassed by his question, I rack my brain at how to answer given that I was his server yesterday—at least until Ollie took over—and he and my sister have been running in the same group of friends every summer for years. “Actually… no,” I admit. “I come every year to visit my grandparents and help out at their restaurant.”

  “Oh, yeah? Which one?”

  Oliver crosses his arms, annoyance written all over his tanned face. “At the Key Lime Griddle.”

  Brad’s eyes rake over my body from head to toe before a light of recognition brightens his hazel-green eyes. I take a deep breath, feeling less like a loser now that he remembers me. “Really? I was just in there yesterday. My friend Jessica works there, too. You know her?”

  Know her? More like, wish I were her, since she would know the perfect thing to say, or do, to ease the humiliation growing in my stomach. He didn’t even notice I was his server for nearly half an hour before Oliver took over the table. I bite the inside of my cheek. Looks like I’m going to have to go with the awkward truth.

  “Uh, yeah, I know her. She’s my older sister.”

  “No way,” Brad says, cocking his head to the side with an easy smile. “Who knew Jessica Quinn had an even cuter little sister? Well, it looks like I’ll have to stop by the Griddle more often then.”

  My mouth goes dryer than the sand under my feet. Did he say cuter?

  Before I can come up with a response to the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Oliver snatches up his kite, tucks the bundle under his arm, and starts to stalk off.

  “Hey,” I call out, stopping Oliver in his tracks. “Don’t you want a ride?”

  “Nah.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna walk, but I’ll see ya at work tomorrow.”

  “Looks like that makes two of us,” Brad says with a wink before jogging down the beach to where his brother is launching his kite with much more skill and finesse than I did, leaving me standing dumbfounded by Oliver’s sudden departure and Brad’s sudden interest.

  Jeans or no jeans—I may have sunstroke after all.

  …

  Climbing out of the veggie mobile my grandparents call a car, sweat prickles my neck from either the lack of air conditioning, or because Brad Garrison said I was cute. Probably both.

  “Grandma?” I call out when I walk into the welcomed coolness of the air-conditioned front entry and drop my beach bag by the front door. “Big Pop?”

  “In here, sweetie,” Grandma calls out from the kitchen before the sound of the home phone being hung up on the wall with a plastic-hitting-plastic clank ricochets down the hall.

  I skip into the kitchen and give Grandma a kiss on the cheek. “Who was that?” I ask hoisting myself onto the countertop and popping a few frozen grapes from the frosted bowl sitting next to me into my mouth. Grandma’s specialty.

  “That was actually your mother.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes the way talking to Mom usually does. “And what has you in such a good mood, young lady?”

  I pop another grape in my mouth. “Just a good practice, I guess. Is everything okay with Mom? I saw she tried calling when Ollie and I were at the beach, but I haven’t called her back yet.”

  “Oh, everything is fine. She was just calling to let us know they got Kody off to his sports camp and that she also heard from your sister.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s her trip going?” I jump down off the counter and straighten Jessica’s sundress, relieved I only have four more days until she’s back with my suitcase. “Did Mom say anything about my books? Jess better not mess with them. Otherwise, I can�
��t be held responsible for what may happen to her shoes,” I joke. But not really. She better not mess with my books.

  “Well, about that,” Grandma says, her face pinched. “Your sister’s trip hasn’t actually started yet.”

  I furrow my brows. Hasn’t started yet? But I watched her boat leave the port. Much to my dismay. “What do you mean hasn’t started yet?”

  “Apparently, the boat had some mechanical issues shortly after leaving Miami and ended up having to be docked for repairs.”

  “They’re docked for repairs?” My heart skips a beat. My clothes, my books, and my own deodorant. I rush to my beach bag and dig my phone out, ready to call Oliver and see if he’s up for a trip to the mainland—gas and dinner on me, of course—when Grandma’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “That’s right. They’ve been docked in New Orleans for the last three days, but it looks like they’re finally setting sail in the morning.”

  My heart falls to my stomach as I make my way back into the kitchen. New Orleans. “So are they coming back? Or…” I bite my lip, praying I’m wrong, “or are they still headed to Mexico?”

  Grandma grabs the bowl of grapes from off the counter, puts them back in the freezer, and then pulls out a bowl of miniature frozen Snicker bars and hands them to me. This is not a good sign. I slump down on the bar stool. “So they’re going to Mexico?”

  “I know, honey. I know.” Grandma pats me on the back. “But I’m afraid there’s more.”

  “Noooooo.” I drop my head into my hands as Grandma’s reassuring pat unfortunately doesn’t help, but only makes me more on edge. What could be worse?

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I go over the worst-case scenarios in my mind before deciding to go with the most farfetched—that way whatever she says won’t be quite as bad as what I imagine. “Let me guess, she sold all my books to buy herself a new wardrobe, and plans on spending the summer in New Orleans when she gets back from her cruise because she met a guy?” It’s only after I voice my farfetched idea that I realize it’s not all that farfetched when it comes to Jessica. Not even a little. It’s exactly something Jessica would do. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. “Please tell me I’m wrong,” I whimper into the crook of my arm where I’ve buried my head, waiting for the answer.

  “Now, now. Nothing as extreme as that, dear. The girls were offered a refund and travel vouchers but opted out in lieu of an upgraded travel package. So, not to worry, Jess did not sell your books to stay in New Orleans for the summer. She just won’t be back from her cruise for another ten days. But you may be right about one thing… your mother did mention there may very well be a new boy in Jessica’s sights.” Grandma laughs, a soft, nostalgic lilt to her tone. “Can you even imagine? A ten-day Caribbean cruise in a luxury suite and a summer romance? Oh, to be young.”

  Oh, to be Jessica is more like it.

  Only she would get an extra-long vacation and the epic summer romance I could only wish for. The kind of romance only found in my books. The books setting sail to the Caribbean for the next ten days.

  My head shoots up.

  Ten. Freaking. Days. I’ve barely managed three whole days without my stuff. Now I have ten more?

  I slump back in my chair and want to cry as I mentally do the math on how much of my computer fund money a couple of pairs of shorts and a few T-shirts will cost at one of the touristy shops in town. I wince, knowing the prices will be steeper here than if I had taken Ollie’s advice and bought a few things at the mall in Miami besides just underwear—which already set me back fifty dollars.

  Resigned to the fact that even touristy clothes are better than alternating between heat stroke jeans and one yellow sundress for the next ten days, I hop off the counter and head down the hall to grab my wallet. Computer lab it is, I guess. “Gram, looks like I’m headed to town to get a few things,” I call out behind me, snatching my beach bag from the ground and slinging it over my shoulder.

  “You know, Katie,” Grandma says, jingling down the hall, a soft ‘grandma will make this all better’ kind of smile playing on her lips. “I took the liberty of unpacking your bag earlier, or I guess Jessica’s bag to be exact, but maybe you should take a quick look first.” She clasps her hands together, just under her chin, and tilts her head. “You know, just to make sure there’s nothing in there that might work before you go out and waste your hard-earned money.”

  I let out a deep sigh, knowing there’s nothing in that bag I could pull off quite like my sister—besides this one dress, which was pretty much a miracle find—but I head up to my room to appease my grandma anyway.

  Swinging open the door to the closet, expecting to find nothing but more skintight dresses, miniskirts, hot pants, and crop tops, I’m surprised to find a handful of soft, summery cotton dresses, a few basic scoop neck T-shirts, and two pairs of jean shorts that actually look like they might just cover my butt and maybe even some of my thighs, too.

  “But how?” I glance around for the rest of Jessica’s clothes, knowing these few pieces would have barely made a dent in her bag.

  “I put the rest of the clothes in the other side of the closet,” Grandma says from behind me. “I thought these were more… you.”

  I arch an eyebrow. That’s a relative term because these clothes are definitely not me, but… I know what she means.

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I say, sliding the hangers across the bar to get a better look. “I think I can probably make a few of these work.”

  “I think you could make that whole damn bag work, missy.” Grandma smiles, waving her hand like she’s swatting a mosquito. “But I’m just your old grandma, and if you ask me, clothes are simply there to keep people from being naked.”

  I bark out a laugh at my grandma’s hippy logic, and at her crazy belief I could make any of Jess’ clothes work. I’m pretty sure Jessica could pull off going completely naked before I could ever ‘pull off’ wearing any of her clothes. But it is what it is. And Grandma’s right. I don’t want to waste my computer fund money when she’s proven there are a few things of Jess’ that I can wear, like the cute little summer dress that seemed to get Brad Garrison to take note.

  No nudity required. Luckily.

  Chapter 8

  Oliver

  As if Katie in that little yellow dress distracting me and then Brad showing up and flirting with her weren’t bad enough, the actual practice yesterday was a total fail. Which was totally my fault since I should have gone slower and explained more. And if I’m being honest with myself, I probably should have shown her how it’s done, but I didn’t want to risk getting in the water and freaking out.

  It’s bad enough Katie only sees me as a friend, but to add in a panic attack while trying to do the one thing I’m actually good at—or used to be good at—thanks, but no thanks. That’s not exactly the way to show off for the girl you like, and definitely not the way to get her to like you back.

  Unable to concentrate on the assigned reading, I close my laptop and scrub my hand down my face. Luckily, I have all summer to get it done before my online classes start back again in August, because trying to do schoolwork during my work break is impossible. It’s too noisy in the restaurant—and in my head. Guess I’ll just do it tonight since I have nothing else going on.

  “You still have fifteen minutes,” Big Pop says, glancing at the clock hanging above the industrial-sized refrigerator when I walk back into the kitchen with my apron on.

  I shrug. “Couldn’t concentrate. Want some help on the griddle?”

  “Sure thing, kid.” Pop slips his spatula under a half-cooked chocolate chip pancake, flips it into the air and slightly to the right, and lands it gooey side down right in front of me. “Now that’s what twenty years of practice will get’cha.”

  “Nice.” I smile, admiring his skills.

  “And, speaking of practice…” Pop pours another perfectly round flapjack on the griddle in front of him and then continues. “How’d it go yesterday?”

  Terrible.
Disastrous. Confusing. “Oh, pretty good, I guess.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Pop laughs, flipping his pancake as I plate the chocolate chip one with an extra-large squirt of whip cream and a dusting of powdered sugar. “So, is my Katie a natural?”

  “A natural?” I trail off, not sure how to tell him that I can’t be sure since I spent most of the time trying to stop myself from staring at her legs, her shoulders, and that small freckle on her neck, just below her ear lobe that looked like it was begging to be kissed. “Maybe?” I finally answer, because maybe she is. But at this point, who knows?

  And thanks to Brad and his ass wipe of a brother, I’ll also never know if Katie and I were about to kiss. It seemed that way, at least for one brief second before they showed up, but then, the moment was gone quicker than Katie getting swept off her feet by the kite.

  “Well, keep at it,” Pop says, flipping the pancake in my direction before cracking two eggs with one hand onto the hot flattop and letting them start to sizzle. “Katie’s a fast learner, and you know as well as I do, she’s a determined little thing when she sets her mind to something.”

  “I’m a what?” Katie asks from the doorway leading from the back office into the kitchen. I swing around to spout off some smart-ass remark to make her laugh but end up choking on my words as I do a double take.

  As she stands against the doorjamb in a bright pink tank top and fidgets with the fray of the cutoff jean shorts she’s wearing, I can hardly keep myself from staring. Or drooling. And apparently, talking is out of the question, too.

  “Well, don’t you look beautiful today?” Big Pop says, letting out a low whistle and stealing the thought right out of my head. “But then again, to me, you look beautiful every day.”

  Holy crap. Can he read my mind or something?

  Katie pushes off the door as a light pink blush rushes to her cheeks. “Beautiful? Yeah, right. Did Grandma make you say that?” she asks, shoving her hands into the pockets of the shorts and sending her shoulders up to her ears. “I look ridiculous. But it’s either this, or an oversized, overpriced ‘welcome to Key West’ T-shirt from one of the boardwalk shops, and thanks to some sage wisdom from Grandma, I decided as long as I’m not naked, these will make do.”