Until Summer Ends

by Elana Johnson

  He pulled back, his breathing stuttered and the phone still held out to his side. At some point, he’d pressed her into the kitchen counter and tucked his free hand into her back pocket. His eyes glittered and smoldered, and the same rush flowed through Sophie.

  “See you tonight, Soph.” He turned and headed out without waiting for her response. Soph rang in her ears. Only those closest to her called her by that nickname. But she loved hearing him say it.

  The front door closed, and Sophie made it to the couch before her knees collapsed. She let her mind wander, but it always came back to Mont. The deep timbre of his voice. The musky scent of his skin. The gentle, yet insistent, pressure of his lips as they explored hers, and explored hers, and explored hers.

  She stood on newborn legs, wiped her hands on her shorts, and headed out to get her seafood order. She arrived at the taco stand with only an hour to prep for the day. The limited time forced her to focus, which still wasn’t enough to drive away the thoughts of Mont.

  Sophie didn’t notice when Jenna arrived, so she jumped when the door slammed closed. Instinct made her spin with her knife raised. When she saw Jenna—right on time—the adrenaline spike caused her heart rate to jump.

  “Easy,” Jenna said, putting her purse under the counter. “Expecting someone else?”

  Sophie exhaled a shaky laugh. “No, sorry. I was just…” She looked down at the tortillas she’d been cutting into strips. “Focused.”

  Jenna slid her a knowing look. “Heard something this morning about Mont.”

  “Oh?” Sophie returned to her task so Jenna couldn’t see her face.

  “He was seen entering your house before nine a.m.”

  A rush of anger filled her. “This town,” she said. “Don’t people have anything better to do than gossip?”

  “Apparently not. What was he doing at your house?”

  “He’s helping me with something.” Sophie didn’t want to get into the finer points of her missing brother.

  “I bet he is,” Jenna said, laughing. Sophie ignored her. She’d endured the town’s gossip circles before, and she could weather this too. It was probably Millie who’d seen him arrive. She lived next door, and she owned the clothing boutique on Main Street. Lots of women going in and out, and Millie without someone at home to talk to. Just like Sophie.

  She shook her head, not the least bit upset with Millie, who had broken up with her last boyfriend only a couple of months ago. Since then, Millie’s place had been dark by the time Sophie came home. Sophie knew Millie didn’t want her coming over to see how she was, and she’d respected that. After she’d gotten dumped, she’d poured her energy into making the best shrimp tacos within a hundred miles. She understood.

  “You like him?” Jenna asked.

  Sophie ran her knife through a fresh tomato as she nodded.

  Jenna squealed. “Sophie! You like him!” She rushed over and hugged Sophie, who couldn’t help smiling. She just wished she didn’t feel like crying too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I sent you that money to pay for the X-rays,” Mont said.

  “You sent two envelopes. It’s too much,” his mom said. “I’m sending half of it back.”

  Mont thought he heard some clicking on her end of the line. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “I know you need that money. Take Dad to dinner or something.”

  “Francis, Dad hasn’t left the house in over two months.” The sadness in his mom’s tone made the muscles in Mont’s shoulders tighten.

  Along with the familiar hopelessness that accompanied his father’s condition, Mont’s frustration level rose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She gave him some excuse about his dad’s pride. Mont listened from the safety of his car, his eyes on Sophie as she backed out and headed toward the pier. She must be going to get her seafood.

  He finished his conversation with his mom, telling her to keep the money. “I’ve got a good gig going,” he said, though a sliver of guilt squirreled down his spine. Sophie was paying him so much she’d have to take a part-time job in the off-season. He needed to renegotiate their deal. Tonight.

  “That’s great, dear,” his mom said. “Will you send us the film when it’s finished?”

  “It’s not from a film, Mom. Remember I said I was staying up north for a few months?” He told her about working at The Sandy Tortilla, conveniently leaving out any mention of Sophie. He wasn’t sure what to tell his mother. I’m sort of seeing this woman, but then when I move back to the city, she’ll….

  There’s this girl I’m crazy for, but she lives twelve hours away….

  I met someone, but I’m taking it day by day…looking for opportunities….

  No, nothing he said made sense in his mind. It certainly wouldn’t make sense to his God-fearing mother.

  “I have two auditions coming up, though,” he continued. “One in a couple of weeks. It’s for a big project.” She’d know who James Bond was, but Mont didn’t want to jinx anything. He finished his conversation, promising to send more money next week. The phone call ended, and Mont pressed his forehead to the glass.

  He knew his mom cherished their calls, but he couldn’t help feeling drained afterward. Hopeless, yet hopeful. And most of all, impatient. He didn’t understand how some people seemed to go to one audition and land the role of a lifetime while others worked for years and still never seemed to get anywhere.

  He wanted to succeed as an actor more than he ever had. Not only for him, but for Lars, and for his parents. At least working for Sophie, he made enough to send hundreds of dollars home. It was nowhere near what he could make with the James Bond role, but it was more than he’d made in LA waiting tables.

  Maybe he simply wouldn’t go back to LA, to those tables, to that life.

  But he knew he would. He hadn’t given up that dream, and the life he had here was temporary, as much as he didn’t want it to be.

  He started his car, once again anxious to point it north and drive until he felt like stopping. So he did.

  By the time he returned to Redwood Bay, showered, and made it to the taco stand, he barely had enough time to tie on his apron and pick up the pen before Sophie opened the window. She didn’t say anything about his tardiness, which meant she was furious. They didn’t speak at all, in fact, until the very end of the service.

  She paid him for the night’s work with a simple “Thank you.”

  He wasn’t sure, but her cold-shoulder treatment seemed excessive for him being a few minutes late. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

  “If being almost thirty minutes late is wrong, then yes.”

  Fine, more than a few minutes late. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was…driving.”

  “You realize that if you don’t show up, I don’t open.”

  “I would never leave you hanging like that.” Mont couldn’t believe she thought he would. Hadn’t she been listening last night when he’d told his agent he couldn’t go to Brazil? Had she not been present during their last kiss? His own head was still a bit muddled from it. She had him all twisted up, but he liked it. Wanted more of it.

  Sophie simply marked another box on her supply order.

  “Is this about the kiss?” he asked, not really sure which one he was referring to.

  Her sharp intake of breath brought him a small measure of satisfaction.

  “No,” she said. “That was, well, what I did at the lighthouse was an accident.”

  “An accident?” Mont raised his eyebrows, stung. “I’d hate to see what you do on purpose.”

  Sophie’s stony exterior fell away, leaving her eyes shining with laughter. “It would blow your mind.”

  “I can imagine.” Mont reached for her ledger so he could complete the bookkeeping for the night. “And I have,” he added under his breath. He hadn’t been able to get the taste of her out of his mouth. He’d barely slept, and his run that morning had been filled with the sound of her voice, the feel of her smooth skin, and the smell o
f fresh flour tortillas. Which was why he hadn’t been able to stop himself from kissing her that morning. If he was within view of her, he wanted to kiss her. And this microscopic taco stand certainly brought them into close proximity.

  “I’m sorry it happened,” she continued, her voice giving nothing away. “It won’t happen again.”

  Her words pierced Mont’s defenses. “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” She made a crisscross motion over her chest, and he wanted to do the same. If she’d stop wearing those skin-tight tank tops, maybe he wouldn’t be tormented by what lay underneath.

  “But what if it does?” He abandoned the ledger and stepped close to her. “I mean, what if I wanted to kiss you right now? You wouldn’t let me?”

  She swallowed, the movement enticing him to press a kiss to her throat. He found himself swallowing too, mostly to get the desire rising through him to retreat.

  “I mean, not that I want to kiss you right now.” He placed his hands on either side of her hips, trapping her against the prep station.

  “You don’t?” She peered up at him through long lashes.

  “I try not to repeat my mistakes.” It was a cruel thing to say, and Mont knew it. But she’d struck first by saying kissing him was an accident. He turned away from the pain cascading through her expression. “I need some air.”

  He left the taco stand, intending to return and apologize once he didn’t feel like saying additional hurtful things. By the time he returned from his fury-filled stomp down the moonlit beach, the building sat in darkness.

  Sophie was gone.

  He ran his hands through his hair, working through his options. Call? Text? Drive to her house to apologize? Wait until tomorrow?

  His throat tightened when he thought that perhaps Sophie would call or text him and tell him she didn’t need his help taking orders tomorrow night. He needed to fix this before that happened. He needed the money. Sure, Sophie was overpaying him, but he’d planned to renegotiate their deal. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind.

  Maybe she would now.

  Mont strode toward his car, determined to make things right in person. He honestly didn’t want to hurt Sophie. She was just impossible sometimes.

  He called her as he walked up the beach to the parking lot. She didn’t answer, which only forced him to take longer strides. He was practically running when he reached the asphalt. He skidded to a stop when he saw a bag hanging from the door handle of his car.

  A familiar piece of paper flapped lazily in the breeze coming off the ocean.

  He reached for it, recognizing Sophie’s neat handwriting on an order slip. You should eat these before you come apologize.

  The laugh that came from Mont’s mouth sounded manic and relieved at the same time. The fish tacos inside the sack were still warm, and Mont realized Sophie had been paying attention to all the details while they worked together. Not just getting every order exactly right, but she seemed to remember everything he told her.

  He took the tacos and got in his car. He was hungry, and he did act like a jerk when he didn’t eat. But he knew that wasn’t why he’d called their kiss a mistake. He took a bite of a taco anyway, simply because Sophie was an amazing cook.

  When he pulled into her driveway, the cod was warring with his stomach. Maybe eating before talking had been a bad idea. He didn’t have time to settle himself, because Sophie was waiting on the porch.

  She didn’t stand up from the bench, but her eyes followed him.

  “Hey,” he said, halting when he realized she was there. “Mind if I sit?”

  She gestured to the other end of the bench, a seat built for three, but Mont took the spot right next to her. Tension poured from her, so he reached over and took her hand, covering it with both of his. He began to rub her fingers until she relaxed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “What I said was cruel, and I didn’t mean it.”

  “So I’m not a mistake?”

  He leaned closer to her, his breath mingling with hers. “Definitely not.” He inhaled the scent of her hair—salsa and oil, with a little leftover pineapple shampoo.

  “I hope you’ll kiss me again,” she whispered. “I’m not sorry it happened.”

  “Right now?” He edged closer, enjoying the way she held so still, her eyes never leaving his. “Because I’m not sorry we’ve happened either.”

  Her slow smile teased him, made him want to make his advance quicker.

  “I believe you said I rocked your world,” she said, reaching up to trace her fingernails through his hair. He loved that she initiated the contact, loved that the wall she seemed so intent on keeping between them was down. For now.

  “Want to do that again?” he asked.

  She did. He could see the desire in her eyes; it practically lit the night. He lowered his head inch by inch, drawing out the moment until his lips touched hers. He felt her body sigh against his, and he brought both arms around her to hold her close. He’d never grow tired of kissing her, and she let him carry on until they were both breathless.

  She laid her head on his shoulder. Everything seemed a bit fuzzy around the edges, and he thought the summer night carried too much heat. But that was probably from all the kissing.

  “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said.

  Sophie gave him an apprehensive look, almost like she was trying to open up, but the door had been closed for so long that it wouldn’t budge.

  “Nothing big,” he coaxed. “Anything, really. Just something I don’t know. Your shoe size, maybe.”

  “I’m afraid of the ocean.”

  Mont chuckled, surprised she’d gone for something big. “Wow. That would be like me being afraid of corn.”

  Sophie joined her laughter to his. “Yeah. Pathetic, right?”

  “No,” he assured her. “Lots of people are afraid of water.”

  “Not people who grow up a hundred yards from it.”

  His joviality died, leaving behind only concern. “Did something happen?”

  Sophie shook her head. “No, it’s just so…big. So relentless. So unforgiving.” She sighed, but it seemed more like just an exhale. “What about you? Tell me something I don’t know.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Like your name, maybe?”

  He actually considered it. But he’d worked so hard to leave that person behind. He didn’t want to be known by Francis Kemmencher, the only child of a poor farmer. That guy had a future in business suits and legal documents, a future Mont didn’t want.

  “I’ll give you the first letter, and you can guess,” he said.

  “Oh, brother,” she said. “It’s just a name.”

  His defenses rose. “Not to me,” he said. “It’s someone I don’t want to be, someone who didn’t have a great life, someone I want to leave in Kansas.”

  He didn’t expect her to understand. He barely understood. He hadn’t had a terrible life. No abuse. No bullying. But he wasn’t happy as Francis. He hadn’t had a lot of friends; he’d spent most of his time working the farm with his dad.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “My first name starts with an F.”

  Through the darkness, Mont sensed Sophie’s smile. “I’ll start making a list.”

  He chuckled again. “You and your lists.”

  “Hey,” she protested. “Lists are useful things.”

  Mont released her hand and lifted his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled closer. He’d let her make a thousand lists if she’d let him hold her.

  “We need to renegotiate my wages,” he whispered into her hair.

  She blinked at him. “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do. You’re paying me too much.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She set her jaw and looked toward the ocean she feared.

  “I’ve done your books, Soph. You’ll have to waitress for a week to make what you’re paying me per shift.” He squeezed her knee, hoping she’d see reason on this. Sometimes she could be so stubborn
.

  “That’s my problem, not yours.”

  “What if I want it to be my problem?” Mont wasn’t sure where the words had come from or what he meant by them.

  Which made it hard to answer her when she asked, “What does that mean?”

  He watched the wave tips catch the moonlight as they crashed into the shore. “I don’t know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But you’re paying me too much. I definitely don’t want to be a burden to you.”

  “Trust me, you’re not,” she muttered under her breath.

  “OK, then,” he said. “I’ll take a hundred for weeknights, and one-fifty for weekends.”

  “That’s a fifty-percent pay cut!” She shook her head, the tips of her loose hair tickling his forearm. Shivers ran from back to front, awakening a part of him that had been buried deep. “No,” she said. “We set the terms. They’re sticking.”

  A rush of fierce adoration tore through him, leaving wonder in its wake. When had she become so loyal? So honorable? So beautiful?

  “I’ll quit completely if you don’t pay me less.” This threat had worked once before; maybe it would do the trick this time too.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” She jerked from under his arm and shoved him away from her. Not that he moved more than a couple of inches. She got right in his face, and heat poured over him like someone had dumped lava on his head. “If you try to even take one dime less than what we agreed on, I’ll fire you myself.”

  From the marble quality of her eyes, Mont knew she wasn’t kidding. He held up his hands in surrender just before he hungrily pressed his mouth to hers. She responded with the same passion she’d had in her voice.

  “I wish you’d threaten to fire me every day,” he whispered between kisses, encouraged when she climbed into his lap and cradled his face before lowering her mouth to kiss him again.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. His hands fit on her hips, just as she fit against him.

  “You’re sticking to the terms we established.” She lifted her head and stared at him, waiting for his confirmation.