Page 43 of Acadia Falls

“You do,” Alex said. “You’ve always had a plan.”

“I don’t know about that.” I stared out at the water, too. It was as if we were looking for an answer in the waves.

Just then, Jack’s rusty old truck pulled into the grassy parking lot. Jack threw it into park, and he, Tommy, and Ryan spilled out. The fisherman looked handsome as ever in a pair of sweats and yet another hoodie that showcased his muscular shoulders. His tan skin and multicolored beard glistened in the last rays of the setting sun.

His blue eyes scanned the jeep. When he saw me, he nodded. Then he and his brothers headed up to the deck.

“Oh boy.” I checked my face in the mirror. “I wasn’t expecting to see them here.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Alex teased. “I know you didn’t put that lip gloss on for me.”

“That’s fair. So, who did you put that lipstick on for?”

“Honestly, nobody. Tori always looks great, though. And all these guys are from LA. It’s not exactly Maine grooming standards, you know?”

“Mm-hmm.” But I didn’t care about Tori’s friends from Los Angeles or their grooming standards. My attention was on Jack.

Why hadn’t he called me?

Why did he nod at me just now but not wait for us?

A tightness built inside my chest. I felt uneasy. I’d sworn off men for the summer, and this was the reason. I couldn’t be distracted—my head racing and my heart pounding. Wondering if some guy was thinking about me. This was precisely what I hadn’t wanted.

And yet, there I was.

“Just remember, if he’s playing it cool, you’re playing it icy.” Alex nudged me. “He’s hot and all, but your Maran Riley, Esquire, from New York, New York. You’re six feet tall and blond. Do not let that hick intimidate you or mess with your head. He’s lucky you let him in your presence—not to mention your bed. And remember, you’re not serious about him. You’re heading back to New York at the end of the summer to start your real life.”

I blinked at her. “Thanks, Alex.”

“Don’t thank me. Call your mother and thank her—you look just like her. And thank yourself for busting ass through three years of law school.” She nodded. “Now, let’s get up there and show these hicks a thing or two, okay?”

With that rallying cry in mind, I straightened my shoulders and held my head high. As we headed up the stairs, I reminded myself I was only on the island for the summer. Jack was just a fling. He didn’t mean anything to me.

And if the voice in my head called me a liar, I chose to ignore it.

Chapter Sixteen

JACK

Ifigured Maran and Alex might show up. What I hadn’t figured was my reaction. When I saw Maran in the jeep, my stomach did a somersault.

No. That’s what I thought as I stormed up the stairs. I cannot be feeling like this. Jack Brennan did not have time for this shit.

I nodded to the group of fancy-looking people sitting out on the deck, then grabbed the first double IPA I could get my hands on. Aware I was being rude, I chose a deck chair by itself. I sank down, drank my beer, and watched the ocean. The tide was coming in, and the dark water swirled, mysterious as ever, around the rocks.

My father had always said it, and as usual, he was right: the Lookout might be the best spot on the whole island. It had a clear view of Rock Beach, its gray sand and smooth stones stretching out as far as the eye could see. The waves crashed against the shore, booming and retreating. Across the channel was the Pasture, a tiny island you could walk to when the tide went out. Seals loved the channel—you could often spy them bobbing up and down, feasting on urchins.

You could see everything clearly from the Lookout. The sun rose every morning, orange and enormous, on the eastern side of the house. In the evening, it set with streaks of pinks and purples to the west. It had already begun its magnificent descent—the sky was turning fiery red, mixed with lavender, a breathtaking combination. For a moment, all my problems disappeared. Everything else seemed insignificant when you watched the enormous, glorious sunset over the Atlantic.

Tommy sat down next to me. God bless my brother; he didn’t say a word. He just stared out at the view, too. Ryan was the opposite of us—he was all smiles, kissing Tori Blaisdell on the cheek, chatting with her friends from Los Angeles like he was right at home.

Maran and Alex made it to the deck, carrying wine, and Maran gave me a friendly smile. She walked past us, not stopping to say hello—giving me a taste of my own medicine. She headed straight for Tori and her guests.

I hadn’t really paid attention before, but Tori had some very attractive male friends. Motherfucker.

“You and Blondie have a fight or something?” Tommy scratched his chin. “I thought she was worthy of sleeping through the alarm.”

“No one’s worth sleeping through the alarm,” I grumbled. “And we didn’t have a fight. We’re not together—it’s not like that. We’re just having fun.”