Page 8 of The Trouble with Flings

“I’m the rebellious one.” She picks up her glass, watching the wine as she swirls her drink for a beat before meeting my gaze. “The one who’s not afraid to upset the apple cart.”

“Ah, you’re like my sister Keira. She owns a coffee shop on the island. She says what she feels without hesitation and needs permission for absolutely nothing.”

Jennifer sits up a little taller, sets down her glass, and says, “She sounds like my soul sister.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I joke. “So, you were a little troublemaker in the Big Apple when you were growing up? I bet your parents had a hell of a time keeping track of all of you.”

“We grew up on Long Island,” she says. “It’s nothing like the city.”

“What was it like?” I ask.

She finishes the bite she’s eating and sets down her fork, her gaze turning thoughtful. “My childhood? Very different from yours, too. My dad’s an electrician, and my mom was home with us until we were all in school. Then she worked part-time at the school library. We grew up sharing bedrooms. The boys in one, the girls in another, until Jace was a teenager. Then he and my dad built a bedroom in the basement for him and Jared to share, and Mia got her own room.”

She’s right. That’s very different from the seven-bedroom captain’s home overlooking Silver Harbor that I grew up in. “That’s cool that Jace and your dad built it together. Did it bother you that Mia got the solo bedroom?”

“Maybe a little,” she admits. “But Jayla and I liked to stay up late talking, and Mia was always telling us to be quiet, so it was fine.”

“Are you close with them?”

“Yeah. Mia and I are like this. We hang out often.” She holds up her hand and crosses her fingers. “Jayla is busy with her kids at night. She doesn’t usually join us unless it’s a weekend breakfast or dinner.”

“Does that mean Mia’s the one who knows all your secrets?”

“Maybe,” she says with a telling smile.

“I’m making a mental note to track Mia down and ply her with alcohol.”

She laughs. “Good luck with that. We’re a loyal bunch.”

“Everyone has a price,” I tease. “Were you close to your brothers growing up?”

“Pretty close, even though Jace tried to scare off any guys who came around.”

“As any brother worth his salt would,” I say.

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell me more about what it was like when you were a kid,” I urge.

“There’s not much to tell. We didn’t have much, but we didn’t go without. We always had fresh-baked bread in our lunches, lots of laughter and arguments around the dinner table, and too many questions about homework and where we were going.”

“For a guy who grew up eating many family dinners in the public’s eye at the resort with parents who separated but never divorced, arguments around the dinner table sound pretty great.”

“It was,” she says a little hesitantly. “It must have been hard to keep up appearances like that.”

I shrug one shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal and redirect the conversation. “It was all I knew. Tell me about teenage Jennifer.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Teenage Jennifer was restless and a little wild.”

“I like when you get wild.” I sit back with my drink, holding her gaze. “Tell me more.”

“You first, Boy Scout. Did you ever get into trouble in high school, or were you always the good one?”

“I’ve gotten into my fair share of trouble,” I say. “Maybe not as much as some guys, but I’m no saint.”

“Yes, I’ve been in your bedroom, and I appreciate the fact that you’re not a saint,” she says with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Let’s hear about teenage Fitz outside the bedroom.”

Man, I like her directness. I mentally run through the times I was mischievous as a teenager and say, “One time my parents went into Boston overnight, so I set up a bonfire at one of the vacant beachfront resort cottages and told a few friends to come hang out. Word got around, and half the school showed up. I spent the entire night confiscating beer and making sure nobody drowned, then stayed up the rest of the night cleaning up the beach. We thought we got lucky and nobody’s parents found out. But a few weeks later we learned my parents got wind of my plans and never went to Boston. They sat on the bluff with the other parents watching us. I got grounded for a week.”