Page 26 of Plotting Summer

I lift a hand, reminding myself that I don’t need to feel awkward with him. Our last two conversations have gone … decently well. But I suppose both of those took place with no one else around. No one we knew, anyway.

Serenity looks from me to Tristan and back again before apparently deciding a cookie is more enticing.

After she passes Tristan, he takes a step toward me. “You ready for our outing?”

I gesture to myself as if it should be apparent, but he seems to take it as an invitation with the way his gaze moves down my body at a slow, intentional pace. I know he’s only considering the practicality of my outfit, but regardless, heat consumes me, and I glance around to see if anyone has taken notice. The last thing I need is people seeing the two of us together and connecting the similarities between us and my characters in Secret Crush. Especially now that several of the women at Seaside Oasis are currently reading it for book club and the story is fresh in their minds.

His eyes return to mine. “You’re sure it’s fine to get wet in that?”

Tristan texted me this morning with one line: Wear clothes you can get wet in.

“Yep.” Technically, Tala’s fine with it, since I didn’t bring any clothes with me to Sunset Harbor. But it isn’t the worst oversight I’ve made. Tala is a lot more fashionable than I am. Not that I don’t love shopping, but I also don’t own anything like the perfectly fitted black one-piece swimsuit concealed beneath the soft button-up shirt. And these cut-off shorts are unbelievably flattering.

“Great. I’ll go change, then come find you.”

“How about we meet out front?” I say, trying to limit the occasions where people will glimpse us together. “In like ten minutes?”

“Sure.” Tristan glances at his watch, then gives me a parting nod. On the way to the exit, Tristan is stopped several times by residents and their families all eager to say hello to him. He greets them all with a friendly smile or handshake, then hurries on his way. And that’s the difference between us—people adore Tristan. Outside of my family, there’s only a small handful of people that take notice of me, let alone are excited to see me. Not that I blame them. Where Tristan is outgoing and charismatic, I’m quiet and easy to overlook.

“That Palmer boy is trouble if you ask me.” Virginia Sawyer, Grandma’s dearest friend and one of those on the small list of people that will seek me out, is at my side, following my line of sight to Tristan and studying him skeptically through her coke bottle glasses. “I know you always had a thing for him, but keep your distance. They’re a sneaky bunch with their good looks and flashy smiles, but they’ll kick you when you’re down.”

I suppress my emotions—horror that she knows I ever had a thing for him and amusement at her dislike of the Palmers. The Sawyers and Palmers have had a drawn-out family feud that once divided Sunset Harbor, but that was a long time ago. I don’t know the particulars except that it was regarding the property Seaside Oasis was built on. Besides, Grandma and Mom have always been Switzerland on the matter (considering all three of our families are also neighbors), so us Collins kids have followed suit. “I’ll keep my eye on him.”

The purple highlights in her hair perfectly match the sardonic look she throws my way. “That’s apparent.”

Time to pivot. “So, Grandma tells me you’re moving into Seaside Oasis?”

“That’s the plan. As long as Palmer doesn’t give my room to anyone else out of spite, I’ll be next door to her. We’ve not lived two doors down from each other for over fifty years to not be neighbors now.”

There’s no point in defending Tristan to Virginia. Her opinion won’t change. “Do you have someone helping you with the move?”

“My granddaughter, Gemma. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Gemma was a grade younger than me, and our time on Sunset Harbor only overlapped for a couple of years before she moved away, but she’s a hard one to forget. Even in middle school, she somehow knew her own mind and wasn’t intimidated by anyone, the Palmer boys included. It probably helped that she was so pretty and never went through an awkward stage whereas my awkward stage comprised my entire middle school and high school experience. In truth, when Gemma lived here, I used to worry Tristan would fall in love with her—they had incredible star-crossed-lovers potential with how intensely their families disliked each other—but she moved away before the opportunity presented itself.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.”

“If she needs any help, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“I’m not sure how much those scrawny little arms of yours could do,”—Virginia reaches out and squeezes my arms with her bony fingers as if to assess the accuracy of her statement—“but I’ll pass the message along.”

Serenity steps up next to me and grabs my hand. “You’d better come get a cookie. The chocolate chip ones are almost gone.”

She knows me too well. Chocolate chip cookies are one of my favorites, especially the big gooey kind like they have in the back. Before I can make my excuses to Virginia, she’s already making her way toward the other side of the room. That woman bends to no one, not even societal niceties. Serenity leads me to the table where I snag one of the remaining chocolate chip cookies, then we join the rest of my family in the courtyard.

“You need to come see my room,” Grandma says to me when I step up to their small group. “Tala decorated it—to the envy of all the ladies.” Helping Grandma move into Seaside Oasis six months ago was the only time I’d been in it. After we got her settled and Tala and Heath moved into her house, I enacted my Sunset Harbor Avoidance Protocol. It made sense considering that was about the time the Sunny Palmer craze hit the island hard. So, between that and the fact that Tristan’s dad informed us Tristan was moving back to run Seaside Oasis, it was definitely time to stop visiting.

“Besides,” she says, a glint in her eyes, “last time I’m not sure you had a chance to enjoy the view from my porch.”

With her tone at the end, I know exactly the view she’s referring to. And it has nothing to do with the gorgeous scenery and everything to do with Dax Miller’s shop. Or, more accurately, Dax Miller. AKA eye candy for the ladies of Seaside Oasis. I went to school with Dax, at least the years he wasn’t in juvenile detention for a series of pranks he pulled. He isn’t my type at all, but I won’t deny that Dax is exceptionally easy on the eyes. If I ever write a rebel as a hero, he’ll definitely be the inspiration.

I glance at my watch. Tristan will be out in a few minutes, and I don’t want to keep him waiting or risk him coming to find me. “I really want to see your room, but I can’t right now. Maybe I can come by Monday or Tuesday since you’ll be with us at Tala’s tomorrow?”

“Do you have plans with Jane?” Grandma asks, as though that’s the only logical answer. Typically, she’d not be wrong.

I shift. “No, not Jane.”

Tala and Heath share a knowing look, so Tala must have mentioned my outing to him. Which is fine, it’s not like I insisted she keep it a secret. I just don’t want everyone making a big deal about it.