Summer Girl Read online

  She came out twenty minutes later, fresh-faced, dewy-skinned, wearing a flowery yellow sun dress and yellow flip flops. Her hair was pinned back on each side with little barettes with yellow daisies on them.

  I wasn’t wearing a shirt, but I’d put on pants by then, so she wouldn’t be able to tell just how happy I was to see her. Good move, because that sundress…my god. I wanted to rip that thing to shreds, right off her body, and run my tongue along her creamy skin.

  “What?” she asked self-consciously. “I know I’m really pale. I just don’t tan that well. I go straight for the burn.” She let out a nervous little laugh.

  Oh, sweet God in heaven, she truly had no idea how hot she was. Save me, I thought.

  “I like pale skin,” I said, and I found myself drifting closer to her. “You have perfect skin. It’s the color of cream.”

  “Oh,” she said, mouth parting slightly, and she stared at me.

  Down, boy, I told myself, But all of the blood in my body had pooled in my groin, and I was no longer thinking rationally.

  She tipped her head back to look at me.

  “I’m sorry about breakfast,” she said.

  “Don’t apologize. You apologize too much.” I was talking in a low growl. My commanding voice. The voice that was, in about two seconds, going to order her to take her clothes off for me.

  “I’m-“ She caught herself about to apologize again, then looked me right in the eye. “I’m sorry I apologize too much,” she said, with a defiant smile that was about to bloom into a full-on giggle. I wanted to hear her giggle; it lightened the darkness in my heart and made me feel almost human.

  “Did you just sass me, lady? I think you just sassed me.” Now I was standing inches from her, breathing hard. How had I gotten there? I hadn’t felt myself move. Oh, my God, did I want her. I wanted to suck her nipples into my mouth, to bury myself inside her. “Because I might have to put you over my knee.”

  Her eyes widened, and she was breathing faster too. “Really. I had no idea you were kinky,” she said with a half smile.

  “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

  “Are - are you going to show me?” Her voice hitched, and those perfect pink lips parted as she waited, trembling, for my answer.

  I stood there frozen on the spot, and the little devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear. Come on. She’s 19, she’s an adult. She wants it. She’s begging you for it. What’s the harm?

  And then, like a signal from heaven, like a message from a disapproving guardian angel – that would be hers, not mine – a car horn sounded sharply several times, followed by a screech of tires. I glanced out my window. My next door neighbor had almost backed out into a passing car, and the driver was now letting him know his displeasure with a series of graphic hand gestures.

  I looked back at her, and she fell back a couple of steps, uncertain.

  Saved by the bell.

  “Breakfast is ready,” I said, and grabbed the two plates of pancakes and bacon that I’d made, and carried them over to the tiny kitchen table.

  “You should open up a bed and breakfast. This is amazing,” she said, digging in.

  “I’m a full-service host,” I said. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” Damn it, I’d just barely dodged temptation and there I was doing it again.

  “Really. These are excellent.”

  “I cook at the bar sometimes,” I shrugged, secretly pleased at her praise.

  “Really? Are they…are they hiring any waitresses?”

  I shrugged. “I could ask my uncle. He owns the bar. Who do you know who’s looking for work?”

  “Me,” she said firmly, forking in another biteful.

  I don’t know, it just caught me the wrong way. I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. Really? Heather Tremaine was looking for a job? A waitressing job at a dive bar?

  I threw my head back and howled with laughter.

  “Right. You’re looking for a job. You. Heather Tremaine.”

  Her face changed, and she slammed down her fork, pushed back her chair, and skewered me with a glare, tears glittering in her eyes like diamonds.

  “You don’t know a thing about me,” she snapped.

  What I said? I stood there, mouth hanging open, as she grabbed her purse and stalked towards the front door.

  “What are you doing?” I called out after her.

  “Leaving! I don’t have to sit here while you make fun of me.”

  My heart twisted painfully in my chest. I could have run after her, could have begged her to stay, could have apologized for whatever offense I’d just committed.

  But I’d just been two steps away from seducing her, from sweeping her into my arms and carrying her into my bedroom like a caveman. I would have ravaged her from head to toe, I would have drowned in her sweetness…and then what? She’d have wanted more. I’d have wanted more. I’d have screwed things up the way that I always do, leaving behind nothing but bitterness and hurt.

  She deserved so much better than me.

  So, with my heart pounding, I let her go. Just like that, my beautiful summer girl walked out of my house and out of my life. Unmolested, and untarnished.

  Chapter Six

  Heather

  You know how some days, it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed? Like a black cloud is following you around all day, and no matter where you go or what you do, there’s a disaster waiting behind every corner, waiting to pounce on you?

  It started with breakfast - with me trying to be the hot chick who also knows how to cook, and ending up flooding the house with the stink of burnt meat and the stench of my incompetence. All the while reminding myself that I was just a rich spoiled brat who didn’t even know how to boil water and who would never be able to survive on my own. Well, I had Slade to help me remind myself of that.

  It was a two mile walk from his house back to my motel, and I was hot and sweaty and tired as I trudged up the walkway. And I knew I’d over-reacted. The whole blow-up with my family was still like a raw, open wound, and being reminded of it stung like ripping a bandage off it. But that wasn’t Slade’s fault; I’d been a jerk. He surely hated me now, and the thought made me literally nauseous.

  By the time I got to the motel, I was thoroughly miserable, but my morning was about to get worse.

  As I walked by the manager’s office with its big picture window, he waved at me, and my stomach clenched. Had someone broken in my room and stolen my stuff? That would be a disaster. I couldn’t afford to replace anything.

  The manager, a short chubby man with a crewcut and mustache, waddled out of the office holding my one suitcase in his hand. He set it down in front of me on the sidewalk, with an apologetic look on his face. “Your father called. He said he’s not approving any more days here on his credit card,” he said, and my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach.

  “Oh,” I said slowly.

  Score one for daddy.

  “Is there anywhere else that I can stay in town, that’s…affordable?” I asked desperately, already knowing the answer.

  He shook his head. “Not during the summer. I’m sorry. There’s nothing affordable within an hour’s drive from here.” Looking at the panic blooming on my face, he added, “I could maybe give you a little bit of a discount…like a hundred and seventy five dollars. But I’ve already got people calling who can pay full price, who want that room.”

  I had three hundred bucks left to last me until I found a job and got my first paycheck. “No, that’s okay.” I grabbed my suitcase and turned and trudged back towards town, heart sinking to the bottom of my shoes.

  I was well and truly screwed.

  When I’d had the huge blowout fight with my parents, I’d left behind just about everything that I owned, grabbing one suitcase full of clothing and some jewelry that my grandmother had left me. And I’d pawned that for cash and a bus ticket to Hidden Cove, where I’d truly believed that I’d find the answers I needed right away.

  I didn
’t even have a car any more. I hadn’t taken my Mercedes with me, because it was actually in my father’s name.

  But, because I was near broke and desperate, I had charged a week at the motel on my credit card; technically my credit card, but it was linked to my father’s bank account. I’d thought that would be enough time to at least find what I was looking for.

  But the first day I’d been in town, I’d taken a cab over to where Maria Ramirez lived…only to find new people living there, who’d stared at me blankly. They’d been living there for ten years; they’d never heard of the Ramirez family. I went and asked the neighbors in houses on both sides; they’d never heard of the Ramirez family either.

  I was stumped, and confused.

  Then the next day, in a burst of inspiration I’d gone to the library and looked up all birth announcements for the year after I turned seven. I’d spent the whole day there, staring at microfiche. But nothing. There was no record of a Maria Ramirez having given birth…to a little girl who was almost certainly my half sister.

  Could she have kept it secret, and never made a birth announcement? I’d wondered. That would make sense, under the circumstances.

  How would I ever find Maria? Was she even still alive? I had reason to think not…which was very worrisome.

  And now my father had effectively made it impossible for me to stay in town. I had no car, nowhere to stay, and next to no money. I’d never find out the truth…he’d made damned sure of that.

  My cell phone buzzed, and I snatched it out of my purse. As I did, a little ripple of unease shivered through me, a feeling something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t think what it might be.

  I looked down and saw a text from my father.

  Heather, stop all this nonsense and we’ll start fresh. I’ll send you a limo to take you to the airport.

  Bastard.

  I was not going to be defeated that easily.

  I texted him back, using some of the swear words I’d recently worked up some of the courage to utter.

  Fuck you, I texted. You told me I was dead to you, so why would you text a dead person? And don’t bother answering because I’m taking out my phone battery. I will delete all future messages from you without reading them.

  And I yanked out my phone battery and dropped my phone and battery back into my purse.

  Speaking of my phone…my parents paid my cell phone bill. I should really just ditch the thing, I thought; – when I got a job, I could get a prepaid cheap phone from Walmart, and just pay for a few hundred minutes a month in case of emergency.

  The dawning realization that this was my new life sank in on me. That black cloud had sunk down low, wrapping me in its chilly embrace, enveloping me in its darkness.

  Up ahead, I saw the sign for the Greasy Spoon diner. My feet were killing me and I’d only had a few bites of that delicious breakfast that Slade had made for me, and I was starved.

  Wearily, I tramped up the road to the diner, walked in, and collapsed at one of the spinning stools at the counter.

  Dottie was behind the counter, chatting with the cook. Their body language told me that there was something going on between them. He looked nothing like her type, or what I imagined her type would be. He was tall and lanky, a townie, with no tattoos, no piercings, and normal brown hair parted on the side.

  Then again, Dottie probably didn’t have a type. I was starting to get the impression that guys with a pulse were her type.

  She gave me a wave of recognition as I sank down into the seat behind the counter. “Damn, woman, you look like you could use some coffee.”

  I smiled tiredly, poured in some cream from a tiny silver pitcher, and added sugar. Then I took a big sip. “Thanks, you’re a godsend.”

  “Want anything else?”

  A cyanide burger, with a chaser of arsenic, because my life is freaking over and I threw away everything that I had, with nothing to show for it?

  Oh, stop being melodramatic, I scolded myself. Things could be a million times worse. I’m not living in Iraq being crushed by the Taliban and sold off to some old man in an arranged marriage; I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me.

  “Pancakes and bacon,” I sighed. What Slade had made me. What I’d walked away from.

  “So, uh…no Slade today, huh?”

  “No, I’m on my own. Completely.” The dark cloud was wrapped around me like a mantle weighing heavily on my shoulders.

  “Hey, at least he bought you dinner. That’s more than I’ve seen him do for anyone else,” she said with a wry smile.

  That wasn’t just the smile of a casual acquaintance.

  “Did you and Slade…?” I blurted out.

  Like it was any of my business.

  She shrugged in dismissal. “A couple years ago. It was no big thing. It never is with him.”

  I took a big swig of coffee, swirling it in my mouth and savoring the mix of bitter and sweet before it ran down my throat. “He and I never…” I stared down at the counter. Why was I telling her this?

  Because I was lonely and exhausted and a little bit heartbroken.

  She looked at me speculatively. “Seriously? Wow. He must really like you then.” There was a ruefulness to her tone, something that said she still carried a little bit of a torch for him, which I could understand. Probably just as well he hadn’t succumbed to my pathetic attempts at seduction; I had a feeling that he could become an addiction without a cure.

  “Trust me,” I said ruefully, “He made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in me in that way.”

  She shrugged, setting my plate in front of me. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I saw the way that he looked at you yesterday.”

  “That is kind of you to say so.” Especially given that she still had a thing for him.

  “That’s me, diner waitress with a heart of gold.” She paused to drink some water behind the counter. “I should switch to being a hooker with a heart of gold. They make more money.”

  I burst out laughing. Bad jokes, that’s what I needed to cheer me up.

  “There ya go. Turn that frown upside down. Don’t you just want to punch people who say that to you?”

  That actually made me smile. “No, the worst is when construction workers yell ‘smile’ at you when you walk by.”

  “That is freaking annoying,” she agreed, nodding, and then walked off to serve some customers.

  When she came back, on impulse, I reached into my pocketbook, looking for the picture of the little girl, the one I’d been carrying around in my wallet. I could show it to Dottie and ask her if she knew who she was.

  And the bottom of my stomach fell out.

  My wallet wasn’t there. That’s why I’d felt that ripple of unease when I’d rooted around for my cell phone earlier. I’d noticed the missing wallet on some subconscious level, but I’d been too distracted to really pay attention.

  All my money. The picture of the little girl who might be my younger half sister, the only picture that I had of her.

  I was homeless. I was completely penniless.

  I was so screwed.

  “What is it?” Dottie asked, alarmed. “You look like you just saw Jason Vorhees wearing his hockey mask outside the window.”

  “I can’t find my wallet!” I gasped. “My wallet is gone!” Of course she’d think I was lying. She’d think I was a scumbag. She’d probably call the police, and who could blame her?

  I burst into tears.

  My life was really, really over.

  “Calm down!” she urged me, handing me a napkin.

  “But I can’t pay you!” I wailed.

  “It’s just pancakes, for Christ’s sakes. Here.” She reached into her apron and slammed down a ten dollar bill in front of me. “Now when was the last place that you remember seeing it?”

  “At the Sand Bar when I paid for a coke. Then I went and slept on Slade’s couch for two days. My wallet’s long gone.” My hands were shaking.

  “You can’t call your parents and…” />
  Fresh tears ran down my face. “My parents kicked me out. It’s a long, ugly story. I can’t really talk about it. They’re never giving me another cent, they’re not paying for me to go back to college, they’re not letting me stay here at the summer house. I’m completely on my own.”

  Dottie looked thoughtful. “We could use another waitress.”

  Hope leaped inside me. “Wait, really? You’re not just saying that because you feel sorry for me? It’s not just a pity offer? Oh, the heck with it, I need the job, I don’t care if it’s a pity offer.”

  She laughed. “Well, I do feel sorry for you. Being homeless and unemployed sucks. But really, I’m day shift manager here, and we do need another waitress. I have an extra uniform in my locker, and I can train you today.”

  Faster than you can say “butt-ugly pink polyester dress”, I was wearing my uniform and trailing behind Dottie on my very first day at a real job, ever.

  The dark cloud had parted and the sun was shining through. I got to keep my tips, which were surprisingly good because of all the rich out of town golfers who enjoyed staring at my boobs while they drank their coffee. Dottie insisted on unzipping the polyester dress enough to show what little cleavage that I had, and she ordered me to bend over really low when I poured coffee or delivered the orders for any tables of single guys, and I hate to admit it, but it worked.

  I was earning my very own money. For the first time in my life. I wasn’t living off my mommy and daddy’s allowance, I was actually earning money with my own hard work. I could do this.

  I still hadn’t solved the dilemma of where to sleep or how to keep looking for my possible younger half-sister when I had no car, but I had a job. Oh, thank you mother earth, Jesus Christ, Mahatma Ghandi, whoever I should thank… I had a job.

  “Man, you can literally make anything look good.”

  It was Slade, and my heart leapt in my chest. The dark cloud this morning had just been the cloud of a summer storm, the kind that drenched everything in its path but swept through quickly, making you appreciate the sun that much more.