Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  She sighed. “I didn’t understand until recently how much I was affected by having a disinterested mom.”

  “I’ve only ever known the harsh side of stepparenting.”

  “Two peas, different pods.”

  “Indeed,” Arnie drawled.

  She growled. “If I ever have kids, everyone better watch out. I won’t be messing around.”

  It was easy to imagine Summer as a fierce mama bear protecting her young. Screw with her at your own peril.

  “The hour is late, Goldilocks. It’s after midnight,” he said with a glance at his watch.

  She stood swiftly and wiped her butt with both hands. “Did I get all the sand?” she asked while sticking her ass out.

  There was no way he was ignoring the invitation. “Let me,” he said. He hooked her on his hip and thoroughly patted her curvy ass.

  “I think you missed a spot.” Summer wiggled her butt and giggled.

  Wiggle and giggle was his new favorite thing.

  “So do you want kids?” she asked as if him fondling her ass hadn’t just happened.

  He straightened and looked off in the distance. “Well, I find myself thinking about it, but I’m not sure kids are in the cards for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Uh, gee.” He chuckled although the sound was not mirthful. “I was, uh, in an accident,” he explained truthfully. The Humvee he’d been riding in had definitely crashed. “Modern medicine is a wonderful thing. They put me back together. I spent weeks in the hospital, and all the important parts work fine, but you know”—he shrugged—“shit happens.”

  “Oh, so not Superman. More like Humpty Dumpty.”

  Did he expect more shock and a bit of freaking out from his announcement? Yes. The last thing he expected was jokes.

  “Super Humpty?” he shot back. “Sure.”

  “Having nothing whatsoever to do with your big feet, I like you, Arnie.”

  She looped her arm through his. He felt the weight of seeing her safely off the beach and back to civilization.

  “Are you working tomorrow? I’d like to see you again if that’s okay.”

  When she hugged his arm, he felt the softness of her breasts press against him.

  “I’m covering someone else’s lunch shift. If it’s a normal day, I’ll be free by midafternoon. Hey, have you ever been to a wine and paint event?”

  “You mean one of those deals where you get hammered on vino and paint along with an instructor?”

  “Yes! Exactly! I know a place. It’s way, way fun.” She sniggered. “And the wine doesn’t suck, so there’s that.”

  “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “When you asked earlier, I didn’t know you. Now that I do, I think I can risk a glass of chardonnay.”

  He reached into a pocket and took out his phone. The agenda for tomorrow’s business sessions was on his calendar. His nuts would be in a sling if he fucked around while in his grandfather’s backyard. It didn’t matter what he did the rest of the time, but when he was in his Wanamaker guise, it was easier to do what was expected and not rock the family boat.

  “I’m tied up till two. Does that work?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

  “Perfect! I’ll make a reservation for the early class. That way, we can paint, sip, and then grab dinner.”

  Arnie could not believe this enchanting golden girl was willing to take him on. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  She laughed. “I guess I am.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He snickered. “So you plan to get me drunk, ply me with dinner, and then what?” He wagged his brows and grinned.

  Her snort of amusement rang out in the night. “I’ll google some options.”

  “Stay away from Pornhub.” He chortled.

  “You sound like my brother.”

  “Smart man. There are some things better left unseen.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “No, but you are a good girl.”

  “How do you know?”

  He chuckled. “The white panties.”

  “Bwah ha ha.” She boomed with laughter. “Smooth talker.”

  The next twenty minutes were the most enchanting of his life. She never stopped talking or being a delight. He walked her back to the restaurant and said goodbye under a spotlight in the parking lot.

  “Till tomorrow, sweet Summer.”

  3

  “Sunset in Santa Barbara,” the class instructor called out. “Nicely done, guys! Give yourselves a round of applause.”

  Clapping enthusiastically, Summer made eye contact with the whole room of people, smiled, and gave out a few thumbs-up. The painting class wasn’t challenging, but the results sure were pretty and very, very different.

  Beside her, Arnie was yukking it up with Charlie, the guy who sat next to him. She looked around both men and met the gaze of Charlie’s date. Grown men could act like such boys. She and the woman smiled and rolled their eyes.

  As they gathered their stuff, Arnie’s breath tickled her ear, and he gave a playful nudge. “This was great fun.” He slid their masterpieces into a large tote bag. “And the chardonnay was tasty.”

  “I wish you would have let me pay,” she griped. “How can this be a date if you pay for everything?”

  They almost got into a fight checking in for the class when he reached for his wallet. Their brief argument was cut off by the others waiting to check in.

  His heavy sigh surprised her. She was beginning to recognize his deeper, more serious moments. Most of the time, he led with humor, and he was good at it too.

  “I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but here it is. Letting you pay is emasculating. I know it’s sexist bullshit,” he hurried to explain, “but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

  The emphasis was revealing.

  Summer immediately felt bad and wondered, Why does it have to be this way? Why should it matter?

  She knew the answer. He displayed nice manners, used big words, and had a wicked sense of humor. But he was also one hundred percent American male—arrogant, cocky, and oozing with alpha pheromones. Letting a woman pay was not in his wheelhouse.

  In the parking lot, he was an easygoing gentleman, holding her car door open and helping to buckle her in safely.

  The Tesla he picked her up in was quite a ride. He started the car and looked at her sharply.

  “That sound would be my stomach growling,” she admitted with a self-conscious smirk.

  “This is your party, sunshine lady.” He grinned broadly. She could feel his enjoyment as it rolled off him in waves. He might not play along when it came to who was footing the bill, but he sure was having a good time with pretending she was in charge. “Since this is your date, I’m assuming there’s a dinner plan.”

  Summer frowned and awkwardly cleared her throat. She could pretend otherwise, but the unvarnished nutritional truth about her life was that it sucked. Her food pyramid consisted of a preference for mindless convenience topped by whichever part of the hormonal wave she was riding at any given moment and a layer or two of common sense with wishful thinking squeezed in.

  This bent toward ease with zero regard for her health extended to the food establishments she frequented. It had not occurred to her until now that Arnie might have different needs.

  “Uh, well,” she stammered in a quiet voice. “Do you like food trucks?”

  Biting her lip, she tried to appear casual and steeled herself for what she worried would be a big ole no on his part.

  “Are you kidding? I fucking love a good truck. There are foodie turf wars in the city, and man, let me tell you”—he laughed in a husky tone—“some of those truck chefs are visionaries!”

  She enjoyed how easily he laughed. And that wasn’t all. Maybe she was lost in a fanciful dream and would one day awaken to feel differently, but in the here and now, Summer was taken by his crystal blue eyes and the way his sexy mouth was always on the edge of laughter. The facial scruff enhanced his mascul
ine aura, and let’s face it, she was a complete sucker for his confident manner.

  “My favorite is Bucket of Syds.” He chortled and spelled the name. “Fantastic food, great name.”

  “Syds?”

  “Yeah. I know, right? It’s a play on bucket of suds and the chef’s name. Sydney Dalton.”

  “Clever.” She chuckled.

  His exuberance was irresistible. “The bucket refers to how they package the food. They use little pails and what they call side canoes. It’s awesome.”

  Summer dug in her purse, extracted her phone, and waved it. “There’s an app with locations for a bunch of the media-savvy trucksters. How do you feel about seafood?”

  “If it’s your favorite, let’s do it!”

  Tapping and scrolling, she quickly found the Coastal Cravers truck she chased around town. “Seafood stuffed wontons with lobster sauce? Mini crab cakes with remoulade sauce? Saffron mussels? If you prefer simple, they also do beer-battered fish and chips.”

  “Where is it? Nearby or are we driving?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip and studied the map. “It’s across town and looks like there’s a twenty-minute wait.”

  “Are you gonna make it that long?”

  He did not wait for her answer and whipped open the center console. “What do you want?” he asked. “Granola bar? Peanut butter crackers? Cheese Nips?”

  Peering into the storage space, she was startled to find it overflowing with snacks and weirdness. There was a pair of gardening gloves, a whistle on a lanyard, and a man’s tie rolled into a ball. Her eyes darted around the interior of the car. She assumed it was a rental since he was in town on business, but the contents of the console suggested otherwise.

  “The crackers, please,” she murmured.

  He tore the pack open and handed it off. Before she could ask, he started talking.

  “A few years back, I had an unfortunate incident involving a rental car. There may or may not have been some street racing and a camera crew,” he drawled with cocky-infused charm. “And if legend matters, I crossed the finish line first going in reverse.”

  She snorted with laughter and nearly choked on the dry crackers when his descriptive words triggered a movie scene in her head. He calmly ripped the cap off a bottle of water from the console and patted her on the back.

  “All of the big names banned me. Avis, Enterprise.” He shrugged. “I think Hertz keeps my picture by the cash register. It’s easier for me to beg, borrow, or steal than it is to rent.”

  Intrigued, she followed the flimsy thread, and asked, “So you’re here on business, but you know people in Santa Barbara? Well enough to borrow a car.”

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Tension squeezed her core. What was the thing to do? How should she handle this first name-only situation she found herself in? He was Arnie from New York City, and he was here on business. Was she being crazy stupid for hanging out with him? For blithely getting in a car without any situational awareness consideration? Her brother, Reed, would be furious with her. Ugh.

  “The car belongs to my grandfather. He lives nearby in Montecito and is happy to lend me his smug alert vehicle when I’m here.”

  “Smug alert vehicle?”

  “That’s code for an environmentally responsible electric car. Granddad enjoys his smug.”

  After a pause, he asked, “So where are we off to? Do you have a location? This baby almost drives itself, so all I have to do is enter the address and sit back.”

  They rolled out in search of food and got on the road. Arnie drove with ease and confidence—pretty much like he did nearly everything else. She drifted off in her head while studying his hands. They were big, and she assumed, strong. In place of the fancy tech watch he insisted came from a Target store, today he was sporting a classic round face on a black leather strap. There was a splotch of yellow paint on his right wrist in a spot only she could see unless he raised his arm and looked at the underside. The colored blot made him very, very real.

  “You’re unusually quiet, Summer. Is something bothering you?”

  Oh, shit! Could he read her mind or sense her thoughts? She sat straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears.

  “I’m reviewing every lesson of the stranger danger course I learned in school.” The comment was supposed to be dry—maybe a tad on the droll side—signifying she wasn’t a pushover and did, in fact, have a brain.

  “Smart girl,” he hooted. “I like your style.” He glanced at her and grinned. “You’re a modern-day blonde. The jokes are still there, but now you’re the one dictating them.”

  “I knew this would get complicated,” she laughingly replied. “The blond energy alone is worth the price of admission. Can I ask a question?”

  “Sure.” He chuckled. “Go right ahead.”

  “Why is the console full of snacks?”

  He put on the turn signal and carefully navigated a left turn. “True confession. I have an unfortunate hard-on for vending machines. I see one, and it’s a matter of how fast I can feed dollars into it and start slot clearing.”

  “Vending machines?” She did a double take on his face. He was serious.

  “Yeah, I know.” He sniggered. “Weird, right? The thing is, I can’t help myself. I get giddy and lose my shit in record time. My hotel has machines,” he explained in a mumble. “Somebody already cleared the candy, so I went with the munchies.”

  What was it with guys and machines? “My brother acquired a Ms. Pac-Man arcade machine. I thought he was insane because the thing isn’t small. He says it’s not the game so much as it’s the machine that floats his boat. Is it like that?”

  “I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with this subject, but for real, I have no explanation. There’s a fully equipped employee kitchen where I work, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying to turn the place into an automated cafeteria.”

  “Oh, look.” She pointed at the car’s large navigation screen. “We’re almost there.”

  To find parking, they had to do a complete circle of the block where the truck was, but like magic, a spot opened up less than half a block away.

  “Does this thing self-park?” she asked.

  “Smuggy Von Smugger does indeed self-park,” he drawled in a pleasing and playful tone. “However, there’s that damn emasculating thing again.”

  She giggled. Emasculation must be a thing with him.

  “How can I demonstrate my car competence in a manly way when a computer is doing the hard work?”

  “Good point. Judging equipment and spatial requirements. Very manly.”

  She didn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth until they were hanging in the air. A second later, Arnie barked with laughter.

  “Yes, yes!” He snorted. “Very important, understanding my, uh, equipment.” He snickered. “Girth and length versus available space.”

  With no effort, he performed a nearly perfect parallel park and cut the engine. “How’d I do?”

  Cheeky smirk and cocky tone aside, he was the cutest thing ever. His whole vibe gave her such joy. Warmth flowed through her, and she smiled at him.

  “Smooth,” she teasingly sneered. “Lots of practice?”

  “Not as much as you’re imagining but more than I should admit to.”

  Whoa. Their joking around led to an interesting reveal. She might be blond, but she wasn’t dumb. Men who looked like Arnie, grown-ass men a decade or more older than she, weren’t virgins. He probably had one hell of a body count.

  “What about you?” He asked the question in a husky, quiet voice.

  “Me?” She pointed at herself and reacted with silent shock.

  “Is there a boyfriend I need to eliminate?”

  Eliminate? What a strange way to react.

  She shook her head and lifted one shoulder. “No boyfriend, no friends with benefits,” she murmured while air-quoting the popular expression.

  He appeared surprised, and without unloading her life story, she
offered the abridged version.

  “I just figure that until I know what I want, what I’m doing with my life, it’s better to give a wide berth to commitment and relationships. How you feel at eighteen isn’t how you feel at twenty-one, and twenty-five isn’t much different. I’m still figuring out who I am.”

  “What about love?”

  “What about it?” She sniffed. Her eyes darted to his and then assessed his expression. “Have you ever been in love?”

  Summer could see the effect of her response in how quickly he tightened up. Clearly, they each had baggage in this area.

  Their conversation effectively stalled when they clammed up and sat in what for her was stubborn silence.

  She had a complicated relationship with the concept of love. Love was what ate away at her dad’s soul until the day he died. Love for a woman who walked out on him and her kids. A woman who still to this day wouldn’t know how to express a love emotion if her damn life depended on it.

  This time when her stomach growled loudly, she was grateful for the diversion. They quickly exited the car, and when he held his hand out for her to either accept or reject, she slid her fingers into his and took a deep breath.

  Juggling a huge order of food between them, they made it to the corner and across the street to a small park with benches and picnic tables. Arnie could see why the Coastal Cravers truck was so popular. The aromas wafting from the kitchen were amazing, and the husband and wife chef duo had a strong schmooze game. No doubt about it, he was impressed.

  Note to self: A food truck would work as an excellent mobile undercover surveillance option. He tucked the thought away until he had a chance to share the idea with his NIGHTWIND team.

  It was the end of another glorious Southern California day. A slight January chill hung in the air as the evening shadows approached. The hot food and drinks were just what they needed.

  He was shoveling delicious, seared scallops topped by a rich lobster sauce into his mouth when Summer miscalculated the sauce to tidbit ratio on a mini crab cake. As her lips closed around the tasty morsel, a glob of remoulade nosedived, landing on a boob. She groaned and looked down, giving him a good reason to follow her gaze and check out what wasn’t exactly hidden beneath a sweater.