Текст книги "Summer Rental"

Автор книги: Mary Kay Andrews

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

21

Ellis found herself drawn to the window in her bedroom. She told herself it was the scenery, the dark blue-green waves crashing on the sand, the rain and wind blowing and bending the tufts of sea oats lining the dunes below. She pulled a wooden chair up to the window, and rested her forehead against the moisture-beaded glass. And if she leaned in just the right way, she could see the weather-beaten boards of the garage, and the apartment above, and the dull glow of one lit lamp within.

He was home. She could see his Bronco parked to the side of the driveway. What was he doing on this rainy Sunday afternoon? Probably working, planning his next trade. She decided he was definitely not doing what she was doing. No way he was reliving that moment on the beach last night. No way he was analyzing that kiss, that amazing, lingering kiss, or the feeling of dizzying heat when they’d embraced. No way Ty Bazemore was telling himself to get over himself. Which was what Ellis was doing.

She tried reading. She had a stack of book club books, the ones she’d been too busy to read over the past year, back when she had a career. They were all highly recommended books, literary masterpieces, food for the mind. Stacked on her nightstand, they gently reproved her. But right now what she craved was mind candy, the idle, delicious retelling of a love story—featuring a heroine who looked uncannily like Ellis Sullivan and a hero with sun-streaked hair who could only be Ty Bazemore.

At five o’clock, she watched as Ty came splashing down the wooden stairs from his apartment. He wore khaki cargo shorts, top-siders, and a black T-shirt with CADILLAC JACK’S in hot pink script across the back. He jumped in the Bronco and headed down the driveway. Ellis watched him go, and a plan took root.

At seven, Ellis wandered into the kitchen, where she found Julia, dressed in cut-offs and a faded black tank top, and Dorie, still dressed in cotton pajama pants and an oversized Braves T-shirt. They were studying a handful of takeout menus.

“Pizza or Chinese?” Julia asked, looking up.

“Neither,” Ellis said. “We’ve been stuck inside all day and I’ve got a bad case of cabin fever. I say we get dressed up and head out and do the town. We could do girls’ night out, like the old days.”

“What town?” Julia asked. “Are you telling me there’s a club scene in Nags Head?”

“Not really a club scene,” Ellis said hesitantly. “But I’ve heard about a place—Cadillac Jack’s. They’ve supposedly got a halfway decent menu, and a bar, and music. Sunday nights it’s supposed to be the place to see and be seen.”

Julia raised one eyebrow. “By who?”

“By whom, you mean,” Dorie said, yawning. “You guys go on without me. Since I can’t drink, I might as well stay home and eat leftovers. Anyway, I’m gonna turn in early tonight.”

“That leaves us,” Ellis told Julia. “Unless we want to include Madison?”

Dorie turned from the refrigerator with a bowl of leftover chicken salad. “She’s not here. I saw her drive off about thirty minutes ago.”

“Really?” Julia narrowed her eyes. “Wonder where she was headed?”

“Who cares?” Ellis said impatiently. “What do you say, are you in?”

“Why not?” Julia headed for the hallway. “Just give me fifteen minutes to get changed.”

Twenty minutes later, Julia sat in the living room, thumbing through a magazine. She was dressed in faded denim capris and a tight black T-shirt that barely covered her tanned midriff. She wore brown leather gladiator-style sandals, and she’d done her hair in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. Large gold hoops gleamed from her ears.

“Ellis!” she hollered, staring up at the ceiling. “Hurry up and get down here before I change my mind and decide to stay home with Dorie.”

“Keep your shirt on,” Ellis said, carefully taking one stair at a time.

Julia swung around to see her friend.

“Hey!” she said suspiciously. “You didn’t say this place was dressy.”

“This isn’t dressy,” Ellis said, walking into the living room.

“That’s a dress you’re wearing,” Julia said, stating the obvious.

It was, in fact, a dress Ellis had never even worn before—a short, cotton Lilly Pulitzer sundress with a pattern of stylized hot-pink-and-yellow daisies. The dress’s spaghetti straps were of a contrasting lime green, and the tight-fitting bodice showed a healthy stretch of Ellis’s freckled cleavage. She wore lime green ballet skimmers, and a pair of dangly pink-pearl earrings nearly brushed her shoulder tops. Ellis had swept her hair into a French twist updo, with feathery bangs.

“No fair,” Julia said, coming closer to examine her friend. “You look like the queen of the Junior League summer country club dance!”

“And you look like a gorgeous high-fashion model who happens to be slumming it in Nags Head,” Ellis said. “I’ve gotta bring out the big guns if I’m going anywhere with you.”

Julia studied Ellis carefully. “You’re even wearing makeup.”

“First time since we got here,” Ellis agreed. “Are you going to stand there giving me the fish-eye, or can we go?”

“Waitin’ on you,” Julia said.

Cadillac Jack’s was actually in Kitty Hawk, eight miles up the road. It was housed in a former Piggly Wiggly supermarket. The old neon sign with the jaunty winking pig still stood by the roadside, but the 1940s-era stucco building had been painted charcoal gray, and the large plate glass windows were shaded by scalloped pink-and-black striped canvas awnings. Ellis joined the line of cars streaming into the parking lot, where a burly off-duty cop in jeans and a navy T-shirt with SECURITY stenciled on the back waved them into one of the few remaining spots, at the rear of the lot.

“This joint is jumping,” Julia said as they walked towards the entrance. “How’d you hear about it?”

“I think I read something in a magazine,” Ellis said vaguely.

“This is kinda cool,” Julia said when her eyes had adjusted to the semidarkness. The club’s walls were still plastered with age-darkened signs advertising specials like CREAM OF WHEAT and COLLARDS and HAM HOCKS with Eisenhower-era prices, but now black leather-upholstered booths filled one wall of the cavernous room and round tables were scattered around the center, with a postcard-sized, slightly elevated wooden dance floor. Music thumped from speakers mounted around the ceiling. Ellis thought she recognized Lady Gaga’s latest hit, but nobody was dancing. The crowd was an eclectic mix, with groups of couples and singles Ellis’s age, but also lots of college kids, the girls in clingy tops and short skirts, guys in preppy polo shirts.

A bar took up the back wall of the room, with the grocery’s retro neon MEAT MARKET sign flashing off and on, the light reflecting in the rows of bottles and glasses on the back bar.

“Are we the oldest ones in here?” Ellis asked anxiously, staring at the bobbing heads of girls who looked a generation younger than herself. She suddenly felt horribly, terrifyingly out of place in her childish pink-and-green getup.

“Who gives a shit?” Julia said, tugging at Ellis’s hand. “Come on, let’s get a drink and snag a table.”

“Wait,” Ellis said urgently. “It’s so crowded. I didn’t think there’d be so many people. Maybe we should just find a quiet restaurant.…”

“Too late,” Julia declared, plunging into the crowd, dragging Ellis by the hand towards the back of the room, and the bar.

People were stacked three deep at the bar, but Julia expertly managed to wedge herself into a spot at the corner, between a pair of middle-aged men who were nursing beers and eyeing the crowd.

“Get you somethin’, darlin’?” The taller of the two men had horn-rimmed glasses and wore a pale blue ball cap with UNC embroidered on the bill. He grinned at Julia, and even seemed to include Ellis in his admiring glance.

“No thanks,” Julia said, flashing him a smile that managed to turn him down without shutting him down. It was a uniquely Julia art, one Ellis had always coveted.

Now Julia was leaning over and across the bar, her long, tanned arm waving in the air. “Excuse me,” she called loudly. The bartender, whose back had been to her, turned, and on seeing who was calling, put down the glass he’d been polishing.

“Hey there,” Ty Bazemore said, walking towards them. “Ellis. Julia. This is a nice surprise.” His easy grin took in both the women, but Ellis thought, just maybe, the warmth was directed at her.

“Wow, yeah,” Julia said, half turning and shoving Ellis forward. “It sure is a surprise. I didn’t know you worked here. Did you, Ellis?”

Ellis felt her face turn as pink as her dress. “Oh, well, yeah, I think maybe I did know that.”

“Hmm,” Julia said, enjoying her friend’s discomfort for a moment.

“Can I get you something?” Ty asked.

“What have you got?” Julia asked.

“Well drinks are two for one for the next ten minutes,” Ty said. “But you don’t want any of that rotgut. I’ve got a decent pinot and a cab, or I could fix you something else.…”

“Tanqueray and tonic for me,” Julia said decisively.

“Uh, well…” Ellis floundered.

“Give her a cosmo,” Julia said. “You don’t happen to have any food, do you? We actually didn’t eat dinner.”

He frowned. “The kitchen closes early on Sunday, but I’ll see what I can do.” He turned away, fixed their drinks, and was back a minute later. “I hope you like quesadillas. Go ahead and get a table, and I’ll get somebody to bring them over.”

“Thanks,” Julia said, pushing a twenty-dollar bill across the bar. “I think you just saved our lives.”

“Well,” Julia said when they’d settled into a booth on the far side of the bar with a pair of two-for-one drinks for each of them, and a heaping plate of chicken quesadillas. “That was quite a coincidence, wasn’t it? Running into garage boy at Cadillac Jack’s of all places?”

“Umm-hmm,” Ellis said, sipping her drink.

“I think he is totally hot,” Julia said, looking past Ellis at Ty moving up and down the bar, slinging drinks and making small talk with fluid efficiency. “Don’t you?”

Ellis shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess he could grow on you. It was nice of him to get us some food after the kitchen was closed.”

“I think he likes you,” Julia said, her tone lightly teasing. “I checked my watch. Happy hour ended half an hour ago, and he still gave us the special.”

“Oh, no,” Ellis said, busying herself by slathering the quesadilla with sour cream. “He was just being polite. But what makes you think he likes me?”

“I’m a witch, remember?” Julia said, resisting the impulse to admit that she’d seen Ellis and Ty in a moonlit clinch the night before. “I can read the future. And I definitely see a man in your future, Miss Ellis Sullivan.”

“Hope so,” Ellis said fervently.

“Since when are you looking for a man?” Julia challenged.

“You think I’m not interested in men?”

Julia shrugged. “Are you?”

“Well … why not? Look, I know we promised each other that this would be a chick trip. But to be honest with you, I haven’t really dated in a while.”

“How long a while?”

Ellis knew exactly how long it had been. Five years, give or take a month or two. She’d made a brief, disastrous stab at online dating. Nine dates with four different guys. She actually felt queasy thinking about it.

She toyed with a piece of lettuce on her plate. “Please don’t make me talk about this,” she said quietly.

“How bad could it be?” Julia asked.

“Awful,” Ellis said, taking a large swallow of her cosmo. “Soul-searing.”

“Which is exactly why you should talk about it,” Julia coaxed. “Dorie and I are your oldest, bestest friends. There’s nothing you could say that would shock me, of all people, for God’s sake.”

It was true. If the game were truth or dare, Julia’s confession of the night before had raised the stakes for all of them.

“If I tell you about it, will you swear never to tell another living soul?”

Julia leaned in until her forehead nearly grazed Ellis’s. “Of course. But, you don’t even want me to tell Dorie?”

“No. Dorie wouldn’t understand. She’s so gorgeous, she’s never had to worry about meeting men. Not that you’ve ever had that problem either.”

Julia cocked her head. “Hey, don’t you remember what I looked like in junior high? That bad perm my mom gave me, the braces, the flat chest? And my God, my acne! I was the original pizza face. Not to mention I weighed, like, eighty-seven pounds and looked like a damned stork.”

Ellis sighed. “Yeah, but by the time we were seventeen, the braces were off, the acne cleared up, and you grew boobs. It was like revenge of the ugly duckling.”

“Turns out my mother was right,” Julia agreed. “I really was a late bloomer.”

“Not as late as me,” Ellis said, her voice low. “I’m thirty-four, Julia. And I haven’t really been with a man since…” She paused, and then forced herself to say it. “Since Ben.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “For real?”

Ellis took another sip of her drink and forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m a freak, right? Eleven years without sex. Not quite the forty-year-old virgin, but close.”

“You are not a freak, Ellis Sullivan!” Julia said fiercely. She gestured at the couples on the dance floor, and in particular at a woman about their age who was grinding her hips into her dance partner, her arms locked around his neck, eyes closed, lips apart. “The freaks are these chicks who’ll give a lap dance or a blow job to some asshole they just met at a bar while on vacation.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ellis said. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Okay, fine,” Julia said. “I’m not going to make you tell me.” She raised an eyebrow, as though daring Ellis.

Ellis slurped up the last of her cosmo and took the bait. “Oh well. I guess it won’t hurt. I mean, lots of people do it.…”

“I knew it,” Julia said triumphantly. “You were online dating, weren’t you? Come on. Out with it. eHarmony or Match.com?”

Ellis buried her face in her hands. “Match.com. It was the year I turned thirty. I made this stupid New Year’s resolution that I was going to really be out there, you know, in the marketplace. Never again. I’d rather die alone, the crazy lady living in a double-wide down by the river, with forty-seven cats and a houseful of hoarded tin cans and toilet paper, than try that again.”

Julia rubbed her hands in delight. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single, grotesque detail.”

“I only did it for three months,” Ellis said. “Two different women I worked with met their husbands that way, and they were totally normal, average to above-average nice guys. But I think those women got the last two normal guys on the planet. Either that, or I’m just a major creep magnet.”

“Details,” Julia interrupted. “Gimme.”

“Gawwwwd,” Ellis moaned. “I’ve spent years trying to forget all this stuff. And now you want me to dredge up all the dirt again. Isn’t it enough that I admit I made a major mistake?”

“No,” Julia said. “Quit stalling.”

“Okay,” Ellis said, wincing at the memory. “The first guy—his name actually was Guy—seemed nice, at first. We e-mailed back and forth for a couple weeks, until I convinced myself he wasn’t some kind of psycho axe murderer. We met at a coffee shop on a Saturday morning. He was wearing jeans, a polo shirt, well-groomed, nothing scary at all about him. Until he ordered.”

“What? What did he order?”

“It wasn’t what he ordered, it was how he did it. I mean, he made the waitress repeat our order back twice to him, and then when she brought the coffee and his danish, he made this big stink about how she’d screwed it up, and insisted he’d asked for decaf. And I heard him. He did not ask for decaf! And then he said the danish was stale, and it tasted fine. He harangued this poor girl for five minutes, until she was in tears, and when we finished, he left a penny for a tip.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand a waitress baiter. Or a stingy bastard. I’m guessing you never saw Guy again.”

“Never,” Ellis agreed. “But the next guy was worse.” She shuddered. “I’ve blocked out his name.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Okay. It was Bart. Or Barf, as I came to think of him afterwards.”

“What was wrong with Bart?”

“He was maybe the best-looking guy I’ve ever gone out with. I mean, gorgeous. Tan, muscular, elegant manners. He took me to dinner at this really nice Italian restaurant. And of course, he ordered in Italian, which was a little bit of a turnoff. I mean, who gives an entire order in Italian?”

“You can’t hate the guy just because he spoke Italian.”

“He did kind of remind me of Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda, but it wasn’t the Italian that was the turnoff. It was the fact that he took me on a date—commando!”

Julia guffawed. “Seriously? How do you know? Maybe he was just wearing, like, you know, low riders.”

Ellis blushed beet red and giggled. “I know, okay? He was totally commando.”

“I don’t believe it,” Julia said, taking a long sip of her drink.

“No, Julia,” Ellis said, leaning forward again. “The way his pants were cut, sort of loose, you know, I could tell he was, you know…” she whispered, “free balling. That’s what Baylor used to call it. But Baylor only did it at the beach, when he was a teenager. Not on a first date at a nice Italian restaurant!”

Julia’s face contorted, and she pressed a paper napkin to her face. “No fair! You made me snort gin out my nose. What did you do when you realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear?”

“What could I do?” Ellis said. “I didn’t realize it until he got up to go to the men’s room, and he was walking back across the restaurant, and you know, his goods were kinda jiggling around as he walked.”

“Oh no,” Julia laughed. “Eeeeww. Poor Ellis.”

“It wasn’t that funny at the time,” Ellis said, laughing now. “I just had to get out of there, but I’d already ordered dinner. So I scarfed down my entrée, then I faked a migraine, told him I was so nauseous I’d better leave immediately. I literally ran out of the restaurant, hailed a cab, and hightailed it home. And that was it for me and online dating.”

“Oh my God,” Julia giggled. “I’ve been with Booker so long, I had no idea things were that awful out there in the dating world.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ellis agreed.

“So what changed your mind about dating again?” Julia asked.

“Nothing,” Ellis said. “And everything. Losing my job—it’s corny, but I think it’s time to take stock. And I’ve decided it’s now or never. If I meet a nice guy, who knows? Anyway, Ty’s not really a bartender. He’s a day trader. He’s just moonlighting here because the stock market is so crappy right now.”

“I’m no snob,” Julia said. “I wouldn’t care if he really was just a bartender. He seems like a nice guy. I think you should go for it, Ellis. Come on, a little summer fling would do you a world of good.”

Ellis toyed with her second drink. “You think?”

The waitress was back with another round of drinks, and this time she didn’t look happy. “Ty asked me to tell you ladies that he gets off in thirty minutes,” she said. “He was wondering if you’re going to stick around that long.”

“Oh,” Ellis said. “Well, sure. I mean, does that sound all right to you, Julia?”

Julia finished off her drink. “You stay, Ellis,” she said casually. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take the car and go on back to the house. I think I feel a migraine coming on. Maybe Ty will give you a ride home.”

“No!” Ellis said, feeling panicky. “You can’t go already, Julia.”

“You can stay,” Julia said, reaching over and patting her friend’s hand. “You’re a big girl. You can do this.”

The waitress cleared her throat to let them know she was waiting.

Ellis gulped. Her heart was racing. She looked up at the waitress. “Tell him I’ll be here.”

Julia stood up and put a twenty-dollar bill on the tabletop. “There’s the tip,” she said, nodding at the money. She dropped a kiss on the top of Ellis’s head. “Have a good time,” she whispered. “And don’t worry. I’ve been watching Ty all night. He does a lot of bending and stretching, getting beers out of that cooler on the back bar. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s wearing underpants.”

22

“Strawberry Shortcake is staying, but her friend is outta here,” the waitress told Ty.

“Nella!” Ty said reprovingly. “Don’t be mean. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Can’t help it,” Nella Maxwell said, dumping her tray full of dirty glasses into the bar sink. “It’s my nature. Who is she, anyway?”

“Her name is Ellis,” Ty said, filling a shaker with ice and vodka. “She’s a friend.”

“Doesn’t look like your usual variety of ‘friend,’” Nella pointed out. “The hottie who left is more your type.”

“Julia?” Ty frowned. “Not really. Anyway, I like Ellis. She’s … different.” He gazed over at Ellis, sitting alone at her table, chin propped up on her fists, watching the swirl of people around her. She was wearing a girlish pink-and-green sundress, and with her hair swept off her neck, he could see a sprinkling of freckles on her sunburnt shoulders and chest, and a surprising amount of cleavage, especially from a woman whose bathing suit looked like something you’d wear to a swim meet. Nella was right about one thing, Ty thought. Ellis looked just like a sweet, pink confection. Totally out of place in a bar like Cadillac Jack’s, with its writhing mass of on-the-make college kids and black-clad hipsters. He wanted to sweep her up and out of there, maybe back to the beach, someplace quiet, someplace without the throb of music and din of shrill voices.

He’d been unaccountably thrilled to look up an hour ago and see Julia towing Ellis along in her wake, steaming towards the bar. He’d never expected Ellis would actually take him up on his invitation to drop by the club. She didn’t seem like the type to go club hopping, but maybe it had been all Julia’s idea. Not that he really cared. He was happy Ellis had come and even happier that Julia had bowed out.

Ty looked down at his watch and frowned. “It’s after nine, and I’m supposed to be off. Angie told me Patricia was coming in to work the rest of the shift. You seen her?”

“Nope,” Nella said. “But I need two frozen ’ritas and a Natty Lite for one of my tables five minutes ago.”

“Patricia better get her butt in here,” Ty said darkly, dumping ice and margarita mix into the blender jar. “I’m tired of covering for her. Do you have her cell number?”

“Patricia’s?” Nella hooted. “Get serious. Even if I had her number, she wouldn’t answer. She and Jason had a big fight last night, and he threw her out of the apartment. And you know that piece-of-crap car of hers quit running a week ago, so with Jason out of the picture she’s either gotta ride her bike or thumb a ride to get here.”

“Swell,” Ty muttered, looking around the bar. It was a typical summer Sunday night at Cadillac Jack’s. The place was jammed and people were still coming in. Patricia Altizer was a sweet kid, in her midtwenties, but she had terrible taste in men, and worse luck when it came to managing her own life. When she made it in on time for her shift, she was a hard worker, but Ty had already had to fill in for her the past couple of times she was supposed to work, and he had the sinking feeling that tonight would be another of those nights.

Sure enough, at 9:30, Angie, the club owner, slipped behind the bar, a look of chagrin on her face. “Patricia’s a no-show, as I’m sure you already figured,” she started. “Ty, honey, I hate to ask, but can you stay ’til closing?”

“You can’t get anybody else?” he asked. “I’ve kinda got something to do tonight. And you swore you weren’t going to keep asking me to close.”

Angie turned and looked in the direction of the table she’d seen Ty gazing at as she approached the bar. Ellis had finished her drink and was fiddling with her cell phone. Ty had been so busy, he hadn’t even had time to send over another drink—or an apology for keeping her waiting.

“Yeah, Nella told me you’ve got a new friend,” Angie said, a note of sarcasm in her voice.

“Nella needs to mind her own business,” Ty said.

“Look, Ty,” Angie went on. “I’m desperate, okay? Patricia’s definitely not coming in, and I’ve called all over, trying to round up somebody else to work, but you’re it. If you’ll stay ’til closing, I’ll owe you big time. You name it, you got it. Just don’t walk out of here and leave me without a bartender.”

Ty thought about it. Angie really was in a jam. If he left now, with only Nella and one other girl waiting tables, there’d likely be a riot. Anyway, he was in a jam of his own, wasn’t he? It was mid-August, and September was closing in. He needed to make some money, and he needed to make it fast. He looked over at Ellis, who returned his gaze. She smiled, raised her eyebrows, and gave a little wave.

He sighed. “You’re gonna have to spell me for half an hour. Then I’ll be back, and I’ll stay and close. But this is the last time. And it’s gonna cost you.”

“Anything,” she said fervently. “Name it.”

“You’re paying me twenty bucks an hour tonight,” Ty said. “Plus tip out. And no skimming. Nella and I can tell what tips oughta be tonight, and if you try and short us, it’ll be the last time I set foot in this place. Understand?”

“That’s extortion.”

“Yep,” Ty said. “And you could always refuse to pay, and I could take a walk.”

*   *   *

“Hey,” Ty said, sliding into the booth across from Ellis.

“Hey yourself,” Ellis said. “Pretty busy tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got bad news,” Ty said. “The chick who was supposed to be coming in at nine isn’t coming. Which means I’ve got to stay and close up—and I won’t get out of here ’til at least 1 A.M.”

“Oh,” Ellis said, trying to hide her disappointment. “That’s too bad.”

“It’s a pain in the ass,” Ty said. “But they can’t get anybody else this late, so it’s all me. Look, I’ve got, like, a fifteen-minute break. I’ll run you home, and if you’ll give me a rain check, maybe we could hang out another night.”

“Sure,” Ellis said, trying to sound noncommittal. “But don’t worry about me. I can get a cab or something.…”

“No way.” He held out his hand. “C’mon. The quicker we get out of here, the more time I can spend with you.”

“All fifteen minutes,” Ellis said.

Ten minutes later they pulled into the driveway at Ebbtide. The porch light was on, and Madison’s room on the top floor of the house was lit up, but the rest of the house was dark.

Ty left the Bronco’s motor running. “This really sucks,” he said fervently.

“It’s all right,” Ellis said. “It’s not like we had a date or anything.”

“We didn’t really have a date, but that’s not all right with me,” Ty said. “What about another night this week? Most of the best restaurants are closed Mondays. Maybe Tuesday night?”

“Uh,” Ellis said. Her brain was frozen. He was asking her out. For a real date. Suddenly, she was fifteen again, tongue-tied and paralyzed with shyness.

“Wednesday night, then?” Ty asked.

“No, I mean, yes, Tuesday night would be fine,” Ellis finally managed.

“Great,” Ty said, relieved.

Grateful that the awkward moment had ended, Ellis fumbled around, looking for the door handle. But before she could find it, Ty leapt out of the car, jogged around, and opened it for her.

He took her hand and helped her out of the car, pulling her to him in one fluid movement, just as naturally as if he had done it a million other star-filled summer nights. And to her amazement, her arms went around his neck, just as though she’d been doing this all her life too. He found a tendril of dark hair trailing on her shoulder blade, and tucked it behind her ear, kissing first her shoulder blade and then her ear. Finally, his lips found hers. He teased her lips open with his tongue. And then the front pocket of his jeans began to vibrate, and then ring.

“Damn it,” he said, reluctantly letting her go. “That’s Angie, screaming that I gotta get back. Which I do.”

He kissed the tip of Ellis’s nose. “To be continued, right?”

“Right,” Ellis agreed. “Absolutely.”

She made a concerted effort to march briskly up the steps to Ebbtide, turning at the door to watch Ty’s car backing down the driveway. She hummed lightly as she swept through the ground floor of the house, checking the locks, corking a bottle of wine somebody had left on the kitchen counter, turning off the lights.

Ellis was halfway up the stairs when she recognized the tune she’d been humming. “Dancing in the Dark.” In her bedroom, she hung up the pink sundress, slipped into her cupcake pjs, and climbed under the covers. She stretched and yawned contentedly, and clicked off the lamp on her bedside table. A summer fling! Ellis Sullivan was having herself a summer fling. As Julia had said, “It’s about damned time.”