by Amie Denman
Since then, he’d steered clear of summer romances, always using the excuse that he was too busy. His real reason, though, was that he’d never encountered a woman who could compete with his love for Starlight Point.
Until now. Gus finally acknowledged him with a look. She must have seen him standing there at least two minutes earlier, but she’d made him wait. He didn’t mind. It gave him time to watch her.
“Just a minute,” she said. She took a tray of iced cookies up front, where four summer employees rang up sales like traders on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.
“Five minutes of your time?” he asked when she came back. He pulled two cold bottles of soda out of a bag.
She smiled. “For one of those, I’d give you ten.”
She stepped past him to the outdoor break area. A few employees sat at the far end of a picnic table, a boy and a girl who saw only each other.
It was punishingly hot. Jack took off his suit jacket and tossed it on an empty table. He dragged the table into the small ring of shade created by the overhangs from the surrounding shops.
“Sit down and cool off,” he said.
“You can’t imagine how wonderful that sounds.” She sat on a bench under the shady overhang. He slid in right next to her.
“I could try. We have a record crowd today. I was just up front looking at gate receipts. Could be thirty thousand here.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve made that many cookies today. And cupcakes. Red, white and blue frosting will be in my dreams tonight.”
“Sounds like a great dream to me.”
Gus grinned at him. “Sweet tooth,” she said.
“How is your head?”
“Fine. All better. Stitches out two days ago, and no one will ever see the scar under my hair.”
“I’ll know it’s there,” Jack said. “I can’t forget what happened to you.”
“I forgave you after you drove my aunt and eight cakes in the pink van. You could give yourself a break.”
“I’ll try to do that right now.” Jack leaned against the wall and sipped his drink. Even in the shade, coat off, cold drink in hand, there was zero chance of cooling down when Gus’s shoulder brushed his every time she lifted the bottle to her lips. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her lips.
“Great weather for fireworks later,” Jack commented. “I hear you’re staying to watch.”
Gus raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall next to Jack.
“Evie told me,” he said.
“Thought so.”
“Have you ever seen our fireworks show?”
She nodded. “A few times when I was younger. But not from here at the Point. I watched from downtown Bayside with my parents and Aunt Augusta.”
“It’s better here. We have timed music. And thirty thousand sweaty people jostling for the good viewing places.”
“A deal I can’t refuse.” She turned toward him, leaning a little closer. “You have inside knowledge. Where can I get the best view?”
“Actually, that’s why I came by.” Before he lost his nerve, he had to ask her. “Will you watch the fireworks with me tonight?”
He put his hand over hers. She didn’t pull away but glanced down at their joined hands on the splintered surface of the bench. He had to fill the silence before she said no.
“We usually watch from the Star Spiral. When you’re up two hundred feet, the fireworks explode almost right in front of you.”
Gus put her free hand over top of his and leaned closer.
This was encouraging. “Say you’ll watch the show with me tonight,” he said.
“I will,” she said quickly and then jumped up and disappeared into her bakery.
Jack stood in the shade for a second, wondering if his mother and sister would mind watching the fireworks somewhere else tonight. It would break tradition, but that was the story of this whole summer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GUS LEFT HER employees in charge, with plenty of change in the cash register and a display case full of cookies and cupcakes.
She walked to the employee center, which was partly hidden by a stand of tall trees. The building had showers and change rooms, a cheap cafeteria, employee wardrobe and uniform counter, mail service, and a small rec room and lounge.
She eyed the jeans and T-shirt she’d changed into and wished for something better. For all she knew, Jack would still be wearing a suit and she’d step into a party at the Star Spiral with a host of invited guests. With champagne, party favors and flashy jewelry. How many people did Jack mean when he said “we” watch from there?
“Wow. I don’t usually see you without an apron,” Evie said. She was at the counter getting the special of the day—hot dog and fries on a red, white and blue plate.
“I’m taking the night off.”
“I know. I’m watching the fireworks from the upper hotel balcony tonight,” Evie said.
“I thought you’d be at the Star Spiral.”
“Not this year. Mom and I decided to do something different.”
Evie grinned at Gus and turned back to the food counter.
You shouldn’t be nervous, Gus told herself as she walked through the gate. The beach path was a safe way to avoid crowds on busy days. And this was a busy day. Jack’s guess at thirty thousand had seemed impossible, but as more people passed her shop she started to believe it. The sheer volume of cookies and cupcakes sold was keeping all her employees busy and had prompted three phone calls to Evie to suggest upping their supply order for the coming week.
Gus stopped and leaned on the rail, watching the pinks and oranges of the sunset fading and skimming across the water. She thought about Jack. They’d been fencing since they met. Masks on, swords up, doing a slow dance in a circle. And for what?
He was available.
She was available.
But she was thirty thousand dollars deeper in debt because of his changes to his father’s contracts. She shouldn’t be meeting him at the Star Spiral. Maybe she could honor her commitment to the other vendors and try to negotiate with him during the fireworks. Patriotic fervor might inspire his generosity.
Who am I kidding? She watched the dozens of boats anchored in the lake, their green and red lights bobbing as the sun sunk lower. The boaters would have a great view of the fireworks tonight. And so would she.
She dug her employee identification from her jeans pocket, passed through the beach gate and walked purposefully through the crowd toward the Star Spiral.
The base of the ride was empty, deserted. Walled in by other rides and buildings, the area around the loading platform would make a disappointing viewing spot for the fireworks.
Gus remembered the exhilaration of riding the Star Spiral when she was very young. The round glass cabin rose slowly, spinning almost imperceptibly, until it suddenly broke over the tops of all the surrounding buildings. It rose smoothly up the shaft to a height of two hundred feet and spun several times. The panoramic view of Starlight Point’s peninsula and the lake and bay was spectacular. She remembered standing with her nose and toes to the glass and the feeling of falling as the cabin slowly descended.
That same feeling whooshed through her chest every time she saw Jack or thought of him.
One lonely employee was in the operator’s hut. Gus waved and walked straight to the circular ramp to enter the ride. Jack stood at the turnstile. He wore loose-fitting jeans and a gray Starlight Point T-shirt. The shadows almost concealed his identity, but his height and muscular physique were unmistakable. If not for the turnstile, Gus would have walked straight into Jack’s arms, drawn by the force of her feelings.
The silver metal clunked around and swatted her in the butt, sending her a hopping step into Jack. Ungraceful, but effective. The distance between them snap
ped shut.
“Are you waiting here to greet all your guests?” She glanced at the windows of the ride cabin, but no one was visible behind the dark glass.
“Everyone I invited is here,” he said. He draped an arm around her and walked her up the slanted entrance. Inside the cabin, Jack pulled the door shut and latched it.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Gus asked.
“With the ride?”
Gus swallowed and bit her lip. “Uh-huh.”
“Worked this ride one summer,” he said. “Today Ben is operating it from down there.”
“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Watching the fireworks.”
“I mean alone. With you,” she said.
“Am I that bad to be around?”
She shook her head. That good, she thought. “You test my loyalty.”
The ride lurched into a slow spin, and Gus swayed with the sudden movement. Jack reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “You test my self-control,” he murmured against her ear, “because whenever I see you, I want to do this.”
His lips grazed her ear, then moved across her cheek and found her mouth. The kiss was soft, sweet, a longer taste of their first kiss, in his car outside her loft. She wanted it to go on all night.
A ripple of excitement lapped through her—like the feeling of walking far out into the water and no longer touching bottom so you have to start swimming. This was a leap of faith just like that.
Color and noise exploded around them, startling her into pulling back.
“Just fireworks,” he said. They stood in front of a bank of windows in each other’s arms, suspended above a crowd of thousands with fireworks coloring the air right in front of them. The magic of his touch and his kiss was multiplied by every sparkling explosion.
“How long does it last?” Gus whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant the fireworks or the delicious feeling of being alone with a man she couldn’t resist, but couldn’t possess. Or could she? So what if they worked together. Aunt Augusta had said many local couples met at Starlight Point. Why couldn’t she have a romance here, too?
She knew the reason. But her loyalty to the vendors and her frustration over his closemouthed cost cutting felt like a flimsy excuse to back away from a man who ignited her senses. At least it did right now. She might see this differently by daylight instead of starlight.
Jack furrowed his brow and appeared puzzled as he considered her question, although it might have been the collection of colors reflected through the glass. Perhaps he was as confused as she was.
“The fireworks show,” Gus explained.
“Oh.” Jack visibly tried to focus. “Five minutes.”
Gus laughed. “Five minutes?”
He nodded. Swallowed hard.
“I’ve seen better shows at the county fair. It must be longer than that,” she said.
He dropped his arms and turned so they were no longer touching. They stood side by side at the glass.
“Best I could do this year,” he said.
Gus was silent, wondering what went on behind the closed door of his office.
“I had to shave costs,” he continued. “Wish I hadn’t now...for two reasons. I could stay up here all night, watching the fireworks with you.”
“You own the place. You can do whatever you want.”
Jack didn’t respond, just continued watching the fireworks.
“And your other reason?”
“Huge crowd. I feel like I owe them more. They’re definitely going to notice it’s a short show this year. People will talk. Wish I’d thought about that.”
“So why did you cut it back so much?”
He returned his attention to Gus. “Do you know five minutes of high-quality fireworks and pyrotechnics—the kind people expect from Starlight Point—is thirty thousand dollars? Or even more depending on what you get and how far you space them apart. Thirty thousand bucks is a lot of money for a few minutes.” He let out a long, slow breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “But I regret this decision anyway.”
She didn’t want to say it. Did not want to kick him while he was down. But there it was. Thirty thousand dollars. The same amount he’d robbed her of this summer. And she wasn’t the only one. This was why he tested her loyalty. She wondered if he regretted changing the vendor contracts as much as the decision to chop the Fourth of July show.
Jack’s jaw was tight as he watched the streaks of red, white and blue fade. If he would only admit it. Say he’d treated her and the other vendors badly. Why couldn’t he? Was it so hard to let his guard down and open up?
They stood shoulder to shoulder like casual acquaintances and watched the fireworks light the roller coasters, the bright white facade of the hotel and the midway lined with thousands of people.
The grand finale exploded over Starlight Point. It was only thirty seconds long and seemed like a tiny, disappointing dessert to a sparse meal. Jack was right about one thing: people would certainly notice the skimpy fireworks display. Gus decided it was time for some raw honesty.
“So,” she said carefully. “Short fireworks show, short staffing on the nighttime crews and shortchanging your vendors. You’re having quite a summer. What do you plan to do with all the cash you save?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So enlighten me.”
“I can’t.”
The Star Spiral started turning and making its slow descent. They had only fifteen seconds or so of privacy left.
“You can kiss me, eat my cookies and drive me crazy all summer, but you can’t tell me what kind of financial scheme you’re running?”
“It’s not a scheme.”
Gus backed away and sat down on the bench that circled the central shaft of the Star Spiral. She felt a little queasy now that the fireworks were over, the ride was in motion and her relationship with Jack was a high-speed roller coaster.
The ride stopped. Jack opened the door but paused, one hand on the handle.
“Do I really drive you crazy?” he asked.
Exasperated, Gus cocked her head to one side and gave him a look that answered the question.
“Good,” he said, his voice once again soft. “Because you’ve got me completely insane. It may not be obvious to you right now, but this was the best ride I’ve had at Starlight Point in a long time.”
Gus thought he’d walk away and avoid her the rest of the summer.
But he did the unexpected.
He took her hand, walked through the door and waved curtly to Ben at the operator’s perch. Gus wondered what the teenager thought about their private ride and considered sending him some baked goods so he’d keep quiet about this particular spin on the Star Spiral.
Jack was headed for the party in the employee parking lot right outside the front gate. He held her hand and showed no signs of slowing down. She could jerk out of his grasp and run the other direction. She could try to use darkness as a cover. Not that she was ashamed to be with Jack. Any woman would want to be in her shoes right now. She risked a glance at his tall frame. Handsome. Smart. Successful. Dedicated to his work and his family. And he had a sweet tooth. He appreciated her line of work.
But there was an obvious problem.
And it was right in front of her, in the employee lot. Hank’s hot-dog wagon was parked beside Bernie’s Boardwalk Fries van. In the mix of people moving though the headlights, Gus made out another half a dozen vendors. They appeared to have their own area of the parking lot. And she’d have to walk right through it with Jack’s hand in hers if she wanted to get to the other side of the lot where her pink van sat amid a group of cars, lanterns, folding chairs and moving people.
She stopped.
“What is
it?” Jack asked. “I see your van right over there. Evie and company are probably waiting for us.”
Gus said nothing, staring at the group of vendors who’d already noticed her. “See,” Jack said, tugging her hand a little. “Right over there.”
“I see it. I just want to say hello to some people before I go over there.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay with me. We’ve got all night.”
Tosha and Ricardo handed out cans of beer from a blue cooler. When Tosha saw Gus she straightened up, beer in hand.
“Augusta,” she said evenly. “I see you found a friend at the party already.”
Gus dropped Jack’s hand, then regretted it instantly. But it was too late to grab it again without looking ridiculous. Half a dozen vendors stood in a circle by Bernie’s van, eyeing Gus but waiting for Tosha to do the talking. They looked at Jack as if he was the only dog invited to a cat’s party.
“We’re friends,” Gus said, trying not to sound defensive.
“I can see that,” Tosha replied.
“I mean you and me,” Gus continued, feigning a light tone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were setting up in this part of the parking lot? I would’ve moved my van over.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” Ricardo said.
Jack stepped closer to the group. “It’s a big parking lot, but we’re all here to celebrate the Fourth. We should join up and have one party like we usually do.”
Silence hemmed in the group.
“No name tags, no worries,” Jack said. “Midsummer Madness as usual.” A note in his voice prompted Gus to step closer and take his hand again.
“Thought we’d do it a little different this year,” Hank said.
Gus didn’t like the expressions she saw in the semicircle. Without asking, they were forcing her to choose sides. Or were they? They hadn’t invited her to join them or offered her a drink. Was the tight-knit group already shutting her out?
