One Last Summer, Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Cole Zamora

  I’m a coward. As soon as we drove into Misty Harbor Cottages and dropped Jenna’s bag at Walter’s place, I ditched out to do work, meaning, I hid by the farthest cottage, raking and gathering trash that blew in with last night’s storm. Then I straightened the rock barriers around the paths and raked any wayward pebbles back in before I rearranged the tool shed.

  These were projects on my to-do list anyway. Glad I had the time to get to them. At least that’s what I tell myself. I only came in to Walter’s place right before dinner.

  The whole time, I thought about Jenna. The change in her expression when our eyes met and how her smile teased a dimple in her right cheek. How perfect she felt in my arms. Her lips, so soft. Her hair, like flowing chocolate, smelling of coconut.

  And even now as we’re finishing dinner in Walter’s kitchen, my mind is swirling with contradictory thoughts. Are we just friends? That kiss didn’t feel like it. In fact, I’ve never felt anything like it. All I can think about is we that should do it again, soon. My whole world shrank down to just us. Did it feel that way to Jenna?

  Maybe my plans for winning her over this summer will work. It’s not such a big jump from attraction to admitting we’re good together. I have a hunch she left last time and stayed away because she was afraid of commitment. Her heart seemed all in, but then she’d back off without an explanation. In the end, she left and didn’t come back. Until now.

  Right after the kiss, Jenna pulled back—not just from my arms, but she seemed to close off a little. Is she still afraid of love? But she’s here, so maybe not enough to completely stay away. I’ve got one summer—I’m going to have to play this just right.

  Worried that one of these questions could easily tumble out of my mouth, I don’t think I’ve said ten words this whole meal.

  Walter eyeballs us both as he finishes, an incredulous look on his face, then moves to the front room to watch the evening news while Jenna and I push food around on our plates. He yells over a commercial, “When you kids are done cleaning up, come in here. I have some important news.”

  Doing the dishes should help take my mind off Jenna, but it doesn’t. I’m hyper-aware of where she is, wiping the table and stove, putting away leftovers.

  I try to decide why she flew into my arms and why I reacted to her that way. It’s exactly what I would have dreamed of, but honestly, I never thought it would happen. Maybe it was the genuine smile she wore when she saw me in the crowd. Her eyes slid over me and then returned as her smile grew. Or maybe when she ran to me, like she was choosing me, not just visiting for the summer.

  The surprise of holding her in my arms didn’t fully register until her demanding, sweet lips opened under mine. Again, my gut takes a quick tumble at the memory. Hopefully, I’m not just fooling myself, but it felt like there was more than friendship behind her kiss. Real passion—for me. I’m not going to get her out of my head easily tonight.

  The dishwasher is full, and I add soap to the tray. While I push it shut and press start, I ask over my shoulder, “Do we need to talk about—?”

  “No.” Jenna blushes and walks into the front room.

  “Yeah, okay. But I just saw you blush.”

  A moment later, I toss the hot pads and tablecloth into the laundry basket and walk into the front room. Jenna is on the loveseat and quickly swings her legs up onto the cushions. Hint taken—I sit in the other rocking chair, opposite Walter.

  What’s so important that Walter waits for a formal sit-down instead of talking to us in the kitchen? Or even over dinner?

  He clicks off the TV and is silent for a long moment. It’s not like Walter to be silent—ever—except this whole evening he has been. Jenna has a worried look, and I panic a little, wondering how bad the news is. Walter’s like a father to me. He’s been the only constant in my life for more than a decade.

  “This is going to be my last season owning Misty Harbor Cottages. Fact is, I’m moving to San Diego to live with my sister after Labor Day.”

  Jenna’s head snaps up in surprise.

  “Not your mom, Jenna—our oldest sister.”

  I slide to the edge of the seat and wait for an explanation, confusion tumbling through my head. Maybe this is one of his jokes.

  “I turn sixty-two this August, so I’m retiring, and I want one of you to buy this place from me. The terms are going to be real reasonable. In fact, one of you is going to rob me blind, but I don’t need to make a fortune. You’ll get the place on payments over thirty years. Those payments will give me extra retirement income with none of the leaky roofs, wiring updates, tax filings, noisy tourists, or other necessary business headaches—those will be all yours.” He laughs like he’s pulling a prank and says, “You’re welcome. And if I die before the thirty years is up—” He shrugs.

  This escalated fast. His death is not something I want to think about now, maybe ever. “You’re not going to die anytime soon.” I can’t imagine this place without Walter puttering around.

  Jenna pipes up, “Besides, you can’t sell your home.”

  He holds up his hand. “Home isn’t a place—it’s people. Now, let me say my piece. If I die earlier, the owner gets it all without the expectation of paying out the contract. I think both of you love the place, so I’m not considering any other offers unless I’m wrong and neither of you want it. I may be old, but I know a thing,” he looks at Jenna and then at me, “or two. I’d like the place to stay in the family. Do either of you want it on my terms?”

  “I want it.” Jenna jumps from the couch at the same time I say, “I do.”

  I pull out a coin and toss it into the air. Jenna plays along with a game we started years ago and calls, “Heads.” She always calls heads. I catch it and flip it onto the back of my hand. When I uncover it, it’s heads. I lean to show it to her and she yells, “I win. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Now, none of that. It’s my place and my rules so I’ll decide the next owner.” Walter waves off the coin toss. “Okay, I figured you’d both want it, so I’ve decided we’ll have a little competition, a friendly competition.”

  Friendly, Jenna mouths toward me.

  “Jenna, your uncle said it has to be friendly.”

  “You too,” she replies.

  I draw a halo over my head. It feels good to spar with Jenna. Last year, the place was crawling with tourists, but it felt empty without her. I’ve got one summer to make her want to stay—not just here, but with me.

  There’s an almost physical need to win the cottages, to follow in Walter’s path, and to prove myself to Jenna. I’m not like the other men her mom has brought into her life. I’m here to stay, and I want a chance to show her that.

  I thought I’d have more time to work out the purchase with Walter, not to be in a matchup against Jenna. But I always like competing with her. That’ll kick a little excitement into this summer.

  “I’m family. Blood is thicker than water.” She pins me with a teasing look. “You can back out now.”

  “If Walter thought that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” I turn to him. “I’m in.” The plus side is that this will be even more affordable than an outright purchase. I face Jenna and say, “And I intend to own this place.”

  “You’ll compete against each other, and whoever wins becomes the owner of Misty Harbor Cottages.”

  Jenna points at me, then points down. I shake my head in reply.

  Walter continues to explain. “There are three rounds, and the last round counts for more than the first two, making for a real interesting finish.” He gets out of his chair. “Follow me,” he says and returns to the kitchen.

  He opens the pantry door where he’s tacked a sign inside with the three rounds listed. How did we not notice that earlier?

  “Round one is all about customer service. The customers will rate each of you. This one will be our May contest. Round two—create a marketing idea that brings in the m
ost net income between now and the end of June. Round three—this is the big one. You’ll each have twenty thousand dollars to renovate one of the cottages. I’ll announce the winner on July thirty-first.”

  “If we can pick the cottage, I want Willow.” I’ve thought about what kind of changes I could make to that cottage every time I’ve gone in for a repair. It’s one of the smaller cabins, without distinguishing features or style. I can imagine the new windows and the addition I’d make.

  In fact, over the years, I’ve remodeled every cabin in Misty Harbor time and again in my mind. This is the first time I’ve imagined it would be something Jenna and I did together. I like where this is going.

  “Fine.” Walter looks at Jenna. “Which one for you?”

  “Apple Blossom.”

  “I guess the game starts now.” He shuts the pantry door, walks back to the front room, and flips on the TV with Jenna and I still leaning against the counters.

  “So, about this morning—” I begin. I anticipate Jenna’s move and step in front of her to block her exit from the kitchen.

  Her eyes flash, then dim and become as unreadable as stone. “It was nothing.” Her voice doesn’t sound like it’s nothing. It sounds like she is whispering to herself when she says, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

  No. This is perfect. In fact, Uncle Walter couldn’t have provided a more seductive proposition to make her stay for the summer. She loves competition, and she loves Misty Harbor. This might be my best chance for winning both this summer too.

  Jenna continues in a snippy tone. “I think you forgot who you were meeting at the airport. We’ve been friends long enough for me to meet the kind of girls you date. I’ve seen you in action more summers than you can deny.” Her hands fly around over her head. “Claire with the hair. Jessica, who wore bikini tops instead of shirts.”

  “I was in high school.” We shouldn’t be talking about past kisses. I’d rather talk about kissing her.

  “Karen. Sara. Margo.”

  She did not just go there. Fine. “Dave. Tim. Adam. You’ve kissed a few toads yourself. And those twins who pretended to be the same guy.” Jenna winces at the mention of them. “That’s right. You kissed them both.”

  “Fine. You’ve made your point. A kiss is not a big deal.” She shoves her hand toward me. “Still friends.”

  I’m reluctant to take it. A kiss is not a big deal—usually. Friends for now, and maybe more later. I shake her hand. “Definitely friends.”

  Before I leave, I look into her eyes, then lean very close to her ear. “Oh, Jenna?” My voice is rough with emotion. Aiming my breath below her earlobe I say, “The kiss—it was a big deal.” Little goose bumps cover her shoulder and arm. Before she can say anything, I leave, and the screen door squeaks behind me.