How to Kiss a Bad Boy

Amanda Ashby

Copyright © 2019 by Amanda Ashby

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Christina Phillips

Copy Edited by Hannah Amante

Proofread by Amy Hart @amyhartproofreading

Cover Design by Barry Holt

1

There were three reasons Frankie Hargreaves knew the universe was conspiring against her. First, her best friend was away for the summer, leaving Frankie to execute “Operation Kiss Aaron Tremain” on her own. Second, Aaron’s shift at the surf shop had finished half an hour ago, and she still hadn’t spotted him walking out the door. And third, she was trying—and failing—to get a two-ton food truck named Rosie off the trailer hitch connected to her aunt’s Ford.

Her fingers ached, and it hadn’t budged an inch.

Footsteps came up behind her.

“You’re late.” Frankie didn’t bother to glance over her shoulder at Kenneth. He’d promised to arrive on time to set up the retro tea shop for the big day tomorrow. Not that she’d believed him. She’d spent last summer working with her aunt’s unreliable employee, and punctuality was not his middle name. Which was why she’d tried to lift the trailer on her own.

“Sorry,” someone said in a low, throaty voice that was nothing like Kenneth’s nasal whine. Frankie stiffened. She shielded her eyes against the pale white beams of afternoon sunshine. Standing next to her was a pair of denim-clad legs and black combat boots. They were in need of a polish, and flecks of grass clung to them.

Why do I know those boots?

She craned her neck so she could see his face.

Jackson Lang?

Okay. Hadn’t expected that.

He was a year older than her and would be a senior when they went back. Despite the late June heat, he was wearing the same leather jacket he always did. Wild black curls hung over his brow, though his dark eyes were just about visible. And while some of the girls at school drooled over him and his bad boy image, Frankie wasn’t one of them.

In her experience, guys like him didn’t make for good life choices. Hence why she’d carefully selected Aaron for her first kissing experience. He got good grades, was captain of the baseball team, and his mom was a dentist, which meant his oral hygiene would be excellent.

Unlike Jackson, whose father had been the infamous Marty Lang. A motorcycle club enforcer who’d gone to prison for murder. He’d died in there a few years ago, and sure, Jackson didn’t wear a patch on his jacket, but everything else about him was bad news.

It also explained why she’d recognized the boots.

A week before school had finished for summer vacation, he’d been involved in a fight in the cafeteria. A punch had sent him flying against the table where Frankie was sitting. Her lunch tray ended up on the floor and over his boots.

Some teachers had broken it up moments later, and Jackson had been hauled off the table and out to the principal’s office. And while Frankie knew it wasn’t his fault he’d crashed into her table, it had still freaked her out.

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“It happens.” He shrugged. “So, can I help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” She bent over the trailer hitch. She didn’t like accepting help from anyone. Especially from someone like him. Lo, her aunt, was over by the fountain talking on the phone, and had made Frankie promise not to try and move Rosie on her own. But if she waited, she would be forced to look at Jackson again. Besides, what Lo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“Really?” he said, a faint hint of amusement lingering in his tone.

“Really,” she assured him. Calluses burned her skin as she tightened her fingers on the steel hitch. This time she threw all her strength behind it.

It still didn’t budge.

Sweat beaded on her brow, and her favorite Girls Rule the World T-shirt clung to her skin. She’d never been a fan of exercise, much preferring books to the gym. Something she was now regretting.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s all under control.” She gritted her teeth and tried it again. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

“Clearly,” he agreed, and when she once again craned her neck, his mouth was upturned at the ends. Was he laughing at her?

Without another word, he stepped closer and reached for the hitch, easily plucking it up from the back of the Ford. He swiveled it to the left and lowered it down in one fluid motion.

“There you go.”

Annoyance flickered and she tugged at the hem of her denim shorts. She’d specifically worn them for day one of her plan to make Aaron notice her. Especially because tomorrow her uniform would be a nineteen-fifties-style dress and floral apron.

But standing next to Jackson Lang—who was taller than he had a right to be and seemed to be the owner of a faint pine scent—she felt exposed.

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say. She toed the grass with her beat-up sneaker and willed Lo to finish with her call so they could get to work.

For most of the year, her aunt ran a baking business out of an industrial kitchen, conjuring up the most mouthwatering cakes and cookies for parties and local cafes. But each summer they moved the pink and white retro food truck into the town square to serve the many tourists who flooded Cricket Bay for some Southern Californian heat. Lo helped out a bit, but most of her time was spent baking, which was why Frankie would be stuck with Kenneth for the next six weeks.

If he ever showed up.

Of course, anyone else would have just fired him, but Lo was notoriously softhearted and forever helping waifs and strays. Kenneth was a prime example. He was a twenty-eight-year-old guy who moved at a snail’s pace, refused to lift anything heavier than a feather, and spent most of his working days googling symptoms and self-diagnosing.

Not that Frankie could complain. After all, she’d been one of those waifs and strays herself. When her mom had died of a sudden cardiac arrest eight years ago in their apartment in L.A., it had been Lo who’d driven up and made everything okay. Lo who’d arranged for Frankie’s mom to be buried in her hometown of Cricket Bay, and Lo who’d packed up the meager apartment and given her young niece a new home. It seemed like another lifetime ago now.

“No problem.” Jackson’s voice pulled her back to the present. He fished a bandana out of his pocket and used it to push his hair back from his face, revealing a strong jaw and full lips. His chin was covered with a brush of stubble, and okay fine, so maybe she could see why girls drooled over him.

Also, why was he still here?

Technically, the town square was open to everyone, but that didn’t mean he had to be quite so close. Unless he just wanted to watch her struggle to put the blocks behind the wheels and battle to set up the generator on her own.

Maybe amusing himself at other people’s expense was what he did for fun when he wasn’t fighting?

“Okay, I better get back to work.” She started to unload the tables and chairs. Tomorrow they would be set up in front of Rosie, but for now they needed to be stored in the large shed behind the restrooms on the other side of the town square.

Jackson pushed his brows together. “Didn’t your aunt tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Frankie put down a folding chair just as Lo joined them. Her aunt, who was thirty-seven, had her dark hair piled high on her head in a beehive, while the fifties-style dress, slanted sunglasses, and fire-hydrant-colored lips completed the look.

“Jackson, you’re here.”

“Yeah. Hi, Ms. Hargreaves.”

“Call me Lo.” Her aunt removed the dark glasses to reveal emerald eyes that didn’t quite return Frankie’s gaze. “Have you two officially met?”

“Sort of.” Jackson studied his fingers, and Frankie’s stomach tightened as she finally managed to catch her aunt’s eye.

“Lo…what’s going on? Why’s he here?”

“Jackson’s going to be working with you over the summer,” Lo said in a bright voice.

Say what?

Her eyes darted over to him. He was tall, with broad shoulders, wild hair, and an even wilder attitude. The idea of him serving up delicate cupcakes with pale rosebud-colored frosting and talking about the difference between Earl Grey and English Breakfast tea was ludicrous.

And yet apparently Lo thought it was a good idea to give him a job.

Frankie wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information. She rubbed her brow and studied her aunt’s face for clues. Nothing.

“Let me get this straight. He’s going to be working with me? All summer?”

“Yes.” Lo nodded, as if it were a completely reasonable request. Which, for the record, it wasn’t.

This was meant to be her summer.

The summer she received her first kiss. Not the summer she worked with a guy who destroyed innocent school lunches. Who was connected to the motorcycle club. And who would no doubt scare off upstanding, cute, highly kissable boys like Aaron.

“Can we please speak privately?”

A flicker skittered across Lo’s face before she sighed. “Fine. Jackson, could you excuse us for one moment?”

“Sure.” His jaw was tight, and the color drained from his face before he walked toward the fountain. Frankie folded her arms and waited until he was out of earshot.

“You can’t expect me to work with someone like…him.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Frankie repeated. Her voice went higher than she’d intended, and she took a deep breath. “How many reasons do you want? I mean, look at him. Plus, his dad…well…wasn’t a great guy. And Jackson was in a fight the other week at school.”

“He told me about it.”

“Like he could get away with not telling you,” Frankie said. Someone had filmed it and put it on YouTube. She doubted there was anyone in Cricket Bay who hadn’t seen it.

“What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Look, he’s a good kid. Nothing like his dad. He’s been working for Johnny after school and weekends. But Johnny shuts down over summer, which is why I offered him a job to tide him over.”

Johnny was Lo’s long-term boyfriend and had his own cabinet-making business. They’d actually met when Lo had taken in Rosie to be restored a couple of years ago. And up until this point, Frankie had liked him a lot.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“How can you not see this is a terrible idea?” Frustration caught in her throat. Her aunt might say Jackson wasn’t like his dad, but it wasn’t a theory Frankie wanted to test out firsthand.

“Call me an optimist.”

“Besides, what about Kenneth?” Frankie added. It wasn’t a winning argument, but she was getting desperate.

“You mean the same Kenneth you spent last summer complaining about? How he was lazy, rude, and convinced he had bubonic plague? That Kenneth?”

“He wasn’t that bad. In fact, he had some great qualities.”

“Such as?” Lo arched a challenging eyebrow, and Frankie groaned.

“Fine, he drove me crazy, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to be fired,” she protested, which was almost true. Though if he’d decided to quit…

“No one’s getting fired. Kenneth is going to be with me in the kitchen, doing deliveries and washing dishes.”

“We swap them. Jackson can work with you, and I’ll have Kenneth.”

“We just discussed this. Kenneth was a disaster last year working in Rosie. He needs to be behind the scenes.”

Frankie licked her lips. This was not going well. “I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“I wouldn’t have offered him the job if I thought he was trouble.” Lo reached out and squeezed Frankie’s hand. Her newly formed blisters protested. “Are we okay?”

She sighed and returned the pressure. There was no point arguing with Lo. She was the only family Frankie had. And she could be as stubborn as heck when she wanted to be. She wasn’t going to change her mind.

“Yes, we’re okay,” she said just as Lo’s phone rang again.

“Thank you. Now, play nice with Jackson and show him the ropes for tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Frankie rolled her shoulders and turned back to the Ford. Jackson appeared next to her, not bothering to speak as he jumped onto the back of the vehicle. It was athletic, and if he had been anyone else, she might have been impressed.

Instead, she picked up a box of freshly washed old linen tablecloths while Jackson scooped up the toolbox they used to connect the gas bottle, rig up the generator, and make sure Rosie was stable. Without waiting for instructions, he disappeared around the back of Rosie.

Despite herself, Frankie nodded in approval. Last year, Kenneth had refused to do anything more than flip open a couple of folding chairs.

Frankie fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door of the pink-and-white food truck. The interior had been refurbished into a functional kitchen and was painted in the same pale pink as the exterior. One wall had been cut out to provide a serving counter, while the back wall was filled with shelves. And once they’d been wiped down, Frankie would stack them with vintage teacups and saucers, all in a gorgeous mishmash of pastel flowers. Under the long wooden counter were several fridges for milk, large jugs of iced tea, and the many cakes and sandwiches they went through every day.

The side windows were hung with blue and white spotted curtains and below was a stainless-steel sink for washing up.

On the left were two kettles, and there was another set of shelves for the teapots. Her aunt refused outright to serve coffee, saying that was the difference between her business and the many others in town. And while some customers complained, just as many loved the nostalgia.

She finished unpacking the porcelain and walked back to the Ford to grab another box when Aaron stepped out of the surf store and jogged toward the fountain.

Her mood instantly improved, and she smoothed down her hair. She’d spent an extra ten minutes straightening it. She quickly added another layer of lip gloss. The first part of her plan was simple. Make sure Aaron knew she worked there. Then once he realized this, they could casually talk to each other, which would then lead to a date and a kissing opportunity.

Aaron was too far away for her to call out, so she had to use the power of her mind to will him to look over. He didn’t. Instead, he clamped his phone closer to his ear and laughed at something the person at the other end said.

She let out a wistful sigh.

He had a great laugh. Perfect teeth flashed in the sun, and the navy shorts made his tanned legs look even browner than usual. She took a mental picture. After they had their first kiss, she would be the one at the other end of the phone. Telling him all kinds of wildly amusing things that would make him laugh.

Clang.

She dragged her gaze away from Aaron’s retreating figure to where Jackson was using a hammer to loosen something on the generator.

“Jeez. You scared me. Is there a problem?” she said, annoyed he had caught her slacking off.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He continued to hammer. Clang. Clang. Clang. “Did I do something to bug you?”

You mean like fighting in the cafeteria?

Like walking around in a leather jacket when it’s ninety degrees?

Convincing my aunt to give you a job?

“Let’s just say I’ve met guys like you before.” She heaved the box from the Ford and lowered it to the ground. Actually, guy was the wrong word. The men her mom used to date were a lot older and a lot more dangerous. The first one had been Frankie’s dad. He hadn’t even hung around long enough to find out he was going to be a father. Her mom always said they were better off without him, and Frankie had agreed. And then there was Keith. The worst of them all.

“I see. So you have me all figured out, don’t you?” He put down the hammer.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she said, pleased with how cool her voice sounded. “And before you deny it, most good guys don’t walk around in all black with a chip on their shoulder.”

“Damn. If only my Ralph Lauren shirt wasn’t in the wash.” His voice was a low rumble.

“Look, wear what you want. I don’t care. It’s your life. But this is my aunt’s business, and if you do anything to mess with it, I swear—”

He stiffened, like he’d just been hit. Frankie winced. She hadn’t meant to imply he was a thief. She’d just meant…actually, she didn’t know what she’d meant. But it was no excuse.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for. I just—”

He held up his hand, as if to say it was a fair hit. “It’s okay. You care about your aunt. I get it. You don’t need to worry. I’m only here to do my job and get my paycheck. I’ll stay out of your hair if you stay out of mine.”

She deserved that. “Just so we’re clear that I’m in charge, when I say jump, you say how high.”

He lifted a bemused eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Some of the tension eased, and she gave him a reluctant smile. “Okay, no jumping. But you know what I mean.”

“I do.” He nodded. “I’m going to finish setting up out here, then you run through everything with me.”

She picked up the box as he began to hammer again. She wasn’t officially in charge, but he didn’t need to know that. She ignored the noise and stepped back into Rosie’s pastel interior. At least they’d come to an understanding, because she had a great summer plan, and she wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—get in the way.

2

“Very handsome.”

“Seriously?” Jackson joined his mom in their apartment’s tiny kitchen the following morning. She was cutting the crusts off a piece of bread but stopped to nod in the direction of his head. More particularly, his hair, which was liberally coated in thick oil.

The stuff was like a combination of glue and car grease. His hair could now survive a hurricane. Still, wearing it in a slicked-back style meant he’d managed to avoid dressing up in any of the costumes Lo had presented him with.

Apparently, his monochrome wardrobe was straight out of a nineteen-fifties greaser’s playbook. Who knew?

“It’s nice to see your face.” His mom finished with the crusts and took a gulp of her coffee. Like most days, she’d already been out and back from her first cleaning job, and while the caffeine might have kept her awake, it didn’t erase the dark smudges under her eyes. She’d do another shift tonight when he got home, and then catch a few hours sleep before repeating it all over again.

And even with the extra money he brought in, it still wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

“Try and get some rest, okay?”

“With this one?” She arched an eyebrow as his kid sister, Chelsea, burst into the room, her eyes still foggy from sleep, clutching a horrifying doll that had green hair and eyes that seemed to suck out your soul. Chelsea grinned and pointed at his head.

“Not you, too,” he warned with a growl, which just made her throw herself around his legs. She was only six and was the result of his mom’s short-lived engagement to a guy who was almost as much of a deadbeat as Jackson’s own dad had been.

But while his almost-stepfather had been a scumbag, Chelsea was an angel. Blonde curly hair and large brown eyes that were impossible to say no to.

He gave her a quick hug and carried her to one of the mismatched stools. Their mom slid over the plate of carefully cut slices of bread. A second, much smaller one was on a plate for the doll.

“Here you go, Miss Sparkles.” Chelsea offered the tiny piece of bread to the green-headed creature. He fished in his jacket pocket for his car keys.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait. You haven’t told me how it went yesterday.” His mom finished pouring a glass of milk for Chelsea and followed him, still clutching at the coffee cup. It didn’t take her long. The apartment was the size of a cardboard box, with barely enough room to squeeze a table and chairs into the tiny dining room.

Still, they’d lived in worse over the years.

And we’ll live in worse again if I mess up this job.

“It was okay.” He shrugged. “We set up, then went through the menu and how everything’s made.” He didn’t bother to add that Frankie had given him strict instructions about who was doing what.

She was responsible for all cash and orders, and he was stuck washing dishes, plating cakes, and making pots of tea.

Not exactly a dream job. Then again, with a father who’d been a convicted murderer, Jackson didn’t exactly have a lot of options. His dad had died behind bars almost seven years ago, but people in Cricket Bay had long memories. To them, he was just Marty Lang’s kid. In other words, he was no damn good.

“Lo was a couple of years above me at high school, and she seemed nice. Not like some of those snotty b—” His mom broke off and coughed. “Girls. Snotty girls.”

Chelsea, proving her hearing was like a bat’s, began to giggle. They turned at the same time. They’d both made some bad choices, but Chelsea was different. She was all heart. All good. She also had the survival skills of a sewer rat and quickly resumed her quiet conversation with Miss Sparkles.

“She seemed okay,” he acknowledged.

“Did you meet Angie’s girl? Is it Frankie? I haven’t seen her before. Is she pretty?”

His fingers tightened around the keys.

Oh, yeah.

Smooth olive skin, and eyes like…hell…he didn’t even know what. Blue didn’t seem the right word. Tiny freckles spread across her nose, and straight blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. And legs. Those legs—

Enough.

“What does it matter?” he said with more force than he’d intended.

And it was true.

No good could come from noticing what Frankie Hargreaves did or didn’t look like. She’d already made up her mind about him. He was a bad boy with a chip on his shoulder.

It was nothing new. After all, it’s what everyone else thought.

Frankie was a reminder of what he already knew. Life was always going to disappoint you. Besides, after what happened with Tania, he wanted a girlfriend like he wanted a hole in the head.

For now, he just needed to keep his nose clean and stay out of trouble. And that meant not thinking about his boss’s niece. Johnny and Lo were the only folks in town who’d even considered hiring him. No way was Jackson messing it up.

“It’s summer. You’re allowed to have fun. You’re not him.” His mom reached up and brushed his face. He flinched. He wasn’t much for being touched. She sighed and took her hand away.

He bent to kiss her and reached for the ridiculous pink-and-white binder sitting by the door. Frankie had given it to him yesterday. She’d called it an operational manual, but it was more like a manifesto. Still, if she wanted each cake to sit no closer than one inch to the edge of the plate, so be it.

He walked out of the apartment and down the three flights of stairs. There were no elevators, and the stairwell was filled with trash and graffiti. Home sweet home. He reached the parking lot and climbed into his car.

It was a rust bucket with far too many miles on the clock, but it got him from A to B, and that’s all that mattered. He started the engine and pulled out onto the busy road. The apartment block was in a run-down part of town known as the Boards.

Most folks in Cricket Bay preferred to think the Boards weren’t there, but he used it as a reminder to never forget who he was. After all, no one else would.

xxxx

“You’re working with who?” Via screeched from the other end of the phone.

“I know. Can you believe it?” Frankie turned onto Hope Street toward the town square. It was a ten-minute walk from Lo’s bungalow, and the sun was already pushing through the sky, streaky beams of soft honey heating her skin.

“Not even a little bit,” Via said. “Lo knows some weird people…but Jackson Lang? I didn’t see that one coming.”

That made two of them.

“I just hope he keeps his part of the bargain and stays out of my way.”

“Speaking of that, have you seen Aaron yet? How’s the plan going?”

“Pretty good,” Frankie said. It wasn’t quite true, but she was a big fan of faking it until she made it. Or, in this case, kissed it.

Besides, when it came to planning, she was a master. If she’d learned anything from her mom’s death, it was that you might not be able to control everything, but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t try. She patted the neat list in her pocket.

“All the same, I wish I was there to help.”

“Me too.” Frankie sighed. Via and her twin brother, Zac, had been dragged away on their annual camping trip. Though it beat Frankie how they thought Via would respond well to any outdoor activities. She wasn’t exactly a fan of nature or creepy crawlies. She’d once screamed the library down when a spider had scuttled out of one of the stacks and onto her hand. Being stuck outside in a log cabin was a nightmare for her.

“So…what’s he like?” Via dropped her voice, as if worried someone might overhear. Frankie came to an abrupt halt.

“Why? Don’t tell me you’re interested in him?”

“Of course not,” Via yelped, though it lacked conviction. “I was just curious. I mean, he’s only a year older than us, but he looks different. Experienced,” she added in a dramatic whisper.

“He only looks older because he has stubble.” She started walking again. And is trouble.

“Well, stubble or not, you do have to admit he’s cute.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort,” Frankie said firmly. Before her death, her mom had dated more than her fair share of bad boys, and Frankie had seen firsthand just how erratic and unpredictable they were. How they never did what they’d promised. How they let you down.

Jackson Lang would be the same. He’d already shown his true colors in the cafeteria fight. She didn’t need to see anything else.

“Fine,” Via grumbled. “You don’t like him, but just remember you have to work with him all summer. Don’t go weird on him, okay?”

“He’s the one with a bad attitude and gets into fights, and I’m the weird one?”

“You know what I mean,” Via said in a calm voice. Frankie let out a little sigh.

Okay, yes, she had a tiny totally-under-control problem when it came to the presentation of all the cakes and sandwiches. But, in her defense, why shouldn’t a person take an extra couple of minutes to make sure they looked gorgeous?

Not that Kenneth had ever paid any attention to her, despite the detailed binder she’d given him. But she was going to make sure Jackson did.

Nothing weird about that.

“I promise,” she said just as Via let out a long groan. “Hey, are you okay?”

“If by okay you mean am I being summoned to take part in an inter-campsite tug-of-war? Then yes, I’m great.”

“You poor thing. But you’ll be home in a few weeks, and we can both get our summer plans back on track.”

“I hope you’re right,” Via said before finishing the call.

They’d met when Via had walked up to her on Frankie’s first day at her new school and gave her a tiny flower to put on her mom’s gravestone. They’d been inseparable ever since.

She swallowed down the memory as she reached the town square. Large sweeping willows dotted the borders, and in the middle was a fountain of a mermaid spouting water out of her mouth.

For most of the year, Cricket Bay was relatively quiet, but each summer tourists descended for the sandy beaches and the fresh seafood that came in with the fishing boats.

It was also why the square was now home to a makeshift stage for nighttime concerts, several food carts, and Rosie.

There was no sign of Aaron at the surf store across the street, and Frankie hurried on.

A couple of tourists jogged by, pausing to glance at her.

Well…probably at her dress.

Because Lo never did anything by halves, Frankie had to wear original fifties-style dresses every day. This one was blue with tiny yellow flowers; it went in at the waist and flared out. There was no hoop underneath the skirt, because it would have been too hard to move around the small space inside Rosie, but the dress was still flouncy.

The grass was dewy, and she was pleased to have broken protocol and worn her Vans instead of the slip-on pumps Lo had suggested. Her feet would have been soaked.

She finally reached Rosie.

Boot-shaped footprints in the grass led in the direction of the storage shed at the other end of the square. A couple of tables were leaning against the food truck, waiting to be put up. Jackson was here?

He appeared a moment later, walking back from the shed with a canvas bag over one shoulder. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, rockabilly-style, and his black leather jacket had been discarded to reveal a white T-shirt.

He had surprisingly muscular arms.

Despite Frankie’s misgivings, Lo had given him his own set of keys, and he was early. Technically, she was too. But Lo was her aunt, so Frankie had a reason. He stopped a couple feet away and lowered the canvas bag to the ground.

“Hey.” He nodded his head as his eyes seemed to take in her dress. “No cutoffs today?”

“I’m trying to give them up,” she said in a light voice. “You know you’re not meant to start until nine, right?”

“I was awake. Figured I’d come down. Just in case you were worried I might turn out like Kenneth.”

Frankie swallowed. “You heard our conversation yesterday?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet.”

Oh. What were the chances of the earth opening up a nice convenient hole for her to climb into? The conversation flooded back into her mind.

Kenneth wasn’t the only thing she’d talked about with Lo.

She’d also said Jackson was trouble.

That he shouldn’t work there.

Heat stung her cheeks. “I’m sorry. It was none of my business.”

“Forget it.” He opened up the canvas bag to unroll the awning. She made a quick escape into Rosie to start getting prepped for the day.

See. This exactly proved her point that the whole thing was a bad idea.

It wasn’t even nine and she was already rattled by him. And yes, technically it was her fault, but that didn’t make it any better.

Inside Rosie, the air was warm from where the kettles had boiled. The binder she’d given him was sitting on the wooden counter and was open, as if he’d been ticking things off. She didn’t know whether she was pleased or annoyed that he was following her directions so completely.

Probably best not to think about it at all.

She stashed her purse under the counter and got to work. Lo had driven by earlier and left a rich chocolate fudge cake with mocha frosting and cherries nestled all over it. Frankie’s personal favorite. There were three other cakes, boxes of pastel-colored macarons, and dozens of delicate cupcakes, along with everything they needed to make up club sandwiches.

Frankie shifted them onto the various tiered plates and cake stands before checking she had enough cream and sprinkles to decorate. Outside, she could hear Jackson humming as he put up the awning and set out the tables and chairs. Out of principle, she refused to look.

Once she was done, she went outside to find him inexpertly trying to spread out a vintage tablecloth. She blinked. A fine layer of sweat covered his brow, and his black jeans were half hidden underneath a pink and yellow floral apron that was wrapped around his waist.

“Are you seriously going to keep that on?” She folded her arms. Was he trying to mess with her?

“It was on page three of your binder. ‘All staff must wear an apron.’ You want me to break the rules?”

“Well, no.” She studied his face to see if he was teasing her. She’d actually forgotten that she’d written anything about aprons at all. “Aren’t you worried people will laugh at you?”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of something crossed his face. Hurt? Then he shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

An uncomfortable sensation churned in her stomach, but before she could reply two middle-aged women wandered toward Rosie, letting out small squeals of appreciation at the vintage food truck.

Their first customers for the summer. As if sensing he wasn’t wanted, Jackson disappeared back into Rosie to do the behind-the-scenes stuff while Frankie seated the women and handed out menus. She just had to stick to the plan. The easiest way to survive the summer was to pretend that he wasn’t there.

3

“I need two more platters and a chocolate cake,” Frankie said four hours later as she loaded up her tray with teacups and plates.

He pressed himself back against the counter to avoid touching her as she went past.

To say that Rosie’s interior was small was an understatement.

Could he really spend a whole summer working here?

It wasn’t helped by the dark looks Frankie kept giving him.

Scrap that. Those dark looks were definitely helping him to ignore the way the blue dress hugged her waist. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, but it just made her neck look impossibly long, and when she’d been laughing with a customer, there’d been a hint of a dimple.

Get a grip.

If she knew he’d been checking her out, she’d convince her aunt to fire him on the spot. He focused on stacking the tiered cake plates with macarons and the tiny sandwiches she’d taught him how to make.

“No. Not like that.” Frankie appeared next to him. The faint scent of strawberries and vanilla caught in his nose, and his skin prickled. She didn’t seem to notice as she picked up some tongs and repositioned the sandwiches. “See how much better they look now?”

No. Not really.

“Er, sure.” He rubbed his chin. “Let me guess. I’m worse than Kenneth.”

She gave the sandwich one final tweak as her blue eyes filled with surprise. “Actually, you’ve been great today.”

He had?

“I’ve been great apart from my sandwich placement?” he said.

She let out a groan and put down the tongs. “Just ignore me. Via reckons I’m a control freak.”

Via? The name was familiar, and he vaguely associated it with a small brunette who spent most of her time in the library. They must be friends.

“For putting a piece of cake onto a plate?”

“Wash your mouth out. It’s an art form. See?”

Carefully she slid a slice of chocolate and vanilla torte onto the plate, then leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in concentration. A strand of sleek blonde hair escaped from her ponytail, but she didn’t seem to notice as she piped cream onto the plate and carefully topped it with four blueberries.

Had she selected them because they were all the same size?

She sprinkled it with cocoa, her lips still pressed together in concentration. Then she looked up and gave him a toothy grin.

“Ta-da.”

“I’m impressed,” he said truthfully before frowning. “Since you clearly love plating up the cakes, and you’re a self-confessed control freak, why are you always out front? Unless you’re scared to let a bad boy loose in public.”

“I deserved that.” She ran her finger around the rim of the teapot. “Last summer Kenneth was a nightmare. He kept arguing with customers and forgetting orders. We lost loads of money. This is a big part of Lo’s income, and I didn’t want things to get worse, so we swapped roles.”

“Why didn’t Lo just fire him?”

“Ah, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.” She stopped fiddling with the teapot and began to measure out Earl Grey tea, her eyes not meeting his. “Look, I’m sorry that—”

“Hey,” a slightly familiar voice said from the other side of the counter. “I thought I saw you here.”

“H-hey yourself,” Frankie said as the scoop in her hand clattered to the floor. Her cheeks reddened, and Jackson turned to see who had spoken.

Aaron Tremain.

He let out a silent groan.

Aaron was one of those golden kids who looked like they’d been dressed in fifty-dollar bills from the day they were born. His mom was a dentist from old money, and his dad had been a semi-famous surfer who’d traveled the world before moving back to Cricket Bay to set up a store and become local royalty. It had obviously gone to Aaron’s head, because the guy was a king-sized douchebag who was always talking about his conquests in the locker room.

None of which seemed to bother Frankie if the color on her cheeks was to be believed. She crossed the minuscule space until she was leaning over the counter, her blush only making her look cuter.

“Can I get you anything?” Her voice was breathy, and her fingers were clutched tightly together.

She likes him.

It made sense in a preppie kind of way. After all, on paper Aaron was a star baseball player and didn’t have a summer job that involved wearing a floral apron. The fact he was a jerk was apparently immaterial.

“Nah.” Aaron flashed her a smile as his phone beeped. “I better get back to work but wanted to say hi. I guess we’ll be seeing each other around.”

“S-sure.” Frankie nodded, her straight blonde ponytail swinging around her neck. “Okay…so, bye then.”

Aaron winked and jogged away. Frankie let out a soft sigh and seemed to follow his progress across the square. She turned back to Jackson and opened her mouth. Then she shut it again, as if recollecting who he was.

“S-sorry about that. Where was I?”

“Making tea. I’ll do it,” Jackson said as he passed her the plates of cakes that were ready to be delivered to the table.

“Sure.” She gave him a vague nod, though if the gleam in her eyes was anything to go by, she was replaying her conversation with Aaron. Jackson finished off the order. It was none of his business if she had a crush on a tool like Aaron. It was her summer. She could do what she wanted. He just needed to stay focused on what really mattered.

xxxx

By the end of the day, the only part of him that wasn’t tired was the thick oil in his hair. He used his arm to wipe away the sweat on his brow as he finished packing up the large awning. It had taken far too many trips to pack the furniture away in the storage shed, but it was finally done.

People were still wandering around the square, eating ice cream and laughing. As long as they didn’t want cupcakes or pots of tea, he didn’t care.

He untied the floral apron as he walked back. He’d only worn it to prove he was happy to follow the rules in the binder, no matter how ridiculous they were. The fact she’d almost felt bad about it had been a bonus. Though considering how filthy it now was, maybe there was something to her crazy rules?

Frankie had packed away the open sign, and the serving window had been closed. He increased his pace. There were a couple more loads of dishes to do before he could knock off.

He’d worked in construction last year, but this was harder.

A familiar giggle rang out from the food van, and he stiffened.

Chelsea?

He stepped inside. His kid sister was perched on the countertop, the ugly green doll on her lap. Next to them was a plate with two tiny cupcakes covered in swirls of lemon frosting, while Frankie was peering into the fridge below the counter. She emerged with a juice box.

“Victory. I thought I had one in here.” She freed the straw from the side of the box and pressed it in before handing it to Chelsea. Then she turned to Jackson. “Oh, hey. You have a visitor. I hope it’s okay I gave her something.”

Jackson rubbed his chin, not quite sure what was happening. He crouched until he was eye level with Chelsea.

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing here? Where’s Mom?”

“She’s out there.” Chelsea pointed toward the door. He swung around. His mom was on one of the many wooden benches that dotted the square. It looked like her eyes were shut. No doubt trying to catch up on some sleep. “She said we should wait by your car, but I wanted to see where you worked and give you this.”

His sister handed him a crumpled piece of paper with a stick figure in the middle. The figure was standing next to a table that had a teapot on it, while a yellow circle hung in the sky. On the figure’s head were long lines of black hair spiking upward.

Next to him, Frankie suppressed a giggle.

“It’s you, J! Do you like it?” Chelsea demanded.

“Of course I do.” He leaned forward and kissed her head before lifting her off the counter.

“I think she’s really captured you,” Frankie added with a grin as she emptied out the last of the cake stands before they were washed up for the night.

“Thanks,” he muttered, before turning to Chelsea. “Why don’t you go back to Mom? I won’t be long.”

“I could help,” Chelsea said hopefully as she stared at the tiny cupcakes Frankie had given her.

“Yes, but then who would feed Miss Sparkles?” Frankie said, her eyes darting between Jackson and his sister. She reached for a take-home box and carefully put the cupcakes in there. She then added a third one. “You could take them out and show your mom.”

Indecision crossed Chelsea’s face before she broke into a smile, still clutching her doll and the juice box. “She’d like that. But what about my picture?”

“How about we put it here?” Frankie nodded to the section of back wall that wasn’t covered in shelves. She reached for the tape they used to seal up the take-home boxes and carefully hung it, with all the reverence of a gallery owner. “What do you think?”

“I like it. So does Miss Sparkles,” Chelsea said.

“As long as she’s happy,” Jackson said before steering her toward the door. “Off you go. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” Chelsea clutched her cupcakes and skipped across the square until she reached the park bench where their mom was sitting.

“Sorry about that.” Jackson squeezed his way past her to reach the sink. The fabric of her dress brushed his arm, and he swallowed hard. “She just wanted to see where I worked. It won’t become a habit.”

“Are you kidding? She’s adorable.” Frankie finished putting away the cakes and leaned forward on the counter. “Though I’m not really sure about her friend.”

“Yeah. Miss Sparkles is creepy all right. I wouldn’t be surprised if she murders me in my sleep.” That earned him a smile, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

Frankie Hargreaves wasn’t for him. But it was hard not to like someone who’d made such a fuss over his kid sister. He filled the sink with water.

“Why didn’t your mom come over?” Curiosity flashed across her face. He didn’t return her gaze. It was because she didn’t want to jeopardize his job. But despite her worries, she’d obviously not been able to say no to Chelsea.

“No reason.” He plunged his hands into the steaming water and methodically washed the first cup. Fifteen minutes later, the place was spotless, and they stepped out into the late afternoon sun.

“So…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Frankie toyed with the door keys, the brass gleaming against her long fingers. It was hypnotic, and it wasn’t until she coughed that he realized she was waiting for an answer.

“I’ll be here,” he said truthfully.

It wasn’t an ideal job. Rosie was too small for both of them and watching her flirt with Aaron Tremain all summer wasn’t his idea of a good time. But she worked hard and seemed to have fallen under Chelsea’s magic spell. Things could have been a whole lot worse.

xxxx

“Excuse me, this tea’s too weak. Can I get some more leaves? And I need another bowl of cream. There isn’t nearly enough.”

“Of course.” Frankie plastered on a smile and took the gold-rimmed teapot from the woman at table two. She tried to remind herself that the customer was always right.

Even when they were annoying and unpredictable.

The lunch rush had died away, which was a blessing. If she was redoing pots of tea and filling up the cream bowls, all while trying to serve six tables at once, her brain might have exploded.

“Problem?” Jackson looked up from the pile of dishes he was washing, his dark eyes narrowing in on the teapot in her hand.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She filled up the kettle and waited for it to boil. Once it was done, she poured a small amount of hot water into a teapot. She swirled it around, just like Lo had taught her. Some of the water splashed up the sides. She put it down on the counter and managed to knock over a pile of paper napkins that had been sitting there. They scattered to the floor.

“Remind me never to make you mad.” He peeled back his rubber gloves and bent down to gather them up. His hair was slicked back again, and the white T-shirt had been replaced by a black one. The apron he’d selected from the hook at the back of the door was red gingham with tiny flowers embroidered along the pocket. It should have looked ridiculous, but—

But nothing.

She dragged her gaze away from his crouching figure and shook out two scoops of tea leaves before adding the hot water and leaving it to steep. It was true Jackson was a vast improvement on Kenneth, and that he wasn’t nearly as bad as his appearance suggested. Not to mention that his little sister was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

But it didn’t mean she wanted to spend more time with him than she had to.

“I’ll gladly remind you as often as you want.” She grinned and filled up a clean cream jug and set everything out on her tray. On the front counter, Jackson had topped up the display of cupcakes. Out of habit, she lifted the glass cover and nudged a couple of them over. Then she plucked a few of the rose petals off the bunch she’d brought in this morning and carefully scattered them around the plate.

That was better.

When she turned around, Jackson had a bemused smile across his face. He thinks I’m weird. Not that she cared. When the displays looked better, they made more money, and when they made more money her aunt could afford to do things like pay the mortgage and buy food. It was a win-win. Simple as that.

“I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

“What?” She followed his gaze to the customer who’d complained about the tea. Oh, right. She knew that.

She carried her tray out.

“Here you go,” she said with a bright smile before moving to a nearby table that had just been vacated. She stacked up the dishes.

“Cute dress,” a voice said, and Frankie almost knocked over a teacup.

Aaron?

Two days in a row?

It was like her plan was getting supersized in front of her eyes.

She slowly lifted her head. His blond streaky hair was spiked up, and his crooked smile did wicked things to her stomach muscles. His aftershave was strong, but considering how much some boys stunk, she thought it was sweet, even if she couldn’t identify the scent. Citrus? Mint? And he was wearing a T-shirt with three curling waves printed across the front. The Waves were a local band who’d had a couple of big hits and were coming back to town to play Summerfest. The fact they both liked the same music sent a fizz of excitement up her spine.

And he was waiting for her to reply.

“Th-thanks,” she stammered. Okay, it wasn’t her finest work, but it was better than just staring at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from my dad,” he said with a wink before letting out a mock groan as he glanced over to the surf shop. A blond-haired guy with leathery skin stepped out the door and scanned the area before narrowing in on Aaron. “I think I failed. I really need to work on my invisibility suit.”

“Don’t make it too good,” Frankie said before she could stop herself. His gaze swept over her, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

“I won’t,” he promised. From somewhere inside Rosie, a pan clattered to the ground, but Frankie ignored it. Aaron was speaking to her—maybe even flirting with her—and it didn’t get much better than that. “My cover’s been blown…but I should get your number in case I need to call for help. He might lock me in the basement.”

Frankie doubted it, but all the same she took the phone from his hand.

“We can’t have that,” she said, proud of how calm her voice sounded as she tapped in her digits. Would it be wrong to put xoxo next to her name?

“Definitely not.” His gaze caught hers. She hitched in a breath as he gave her a final smile and jogged away.

“No offense, but that guy smells like a hospital.” Jackson appeared beside her, his nose wrinkled in distaste. The table she’d been halfway through clearing had been reset, as had the other tables.

“No, he doesn’t,” she said, before inwardly wincing. Maybe the aftershave had been a bit antiseptic, but it was probably just because he’d put too much on. To impress me? She allowed herself a small smile.

“If you say so.” Jackson shrugged and carried the tray back into Rosie. Not that Frankie cared. Aaron had asked for her phone number. And flirted with her. As far as days went, it was pretty much perfect.

An hour later, she was still smiling as she rang up a sale and handed over the change. Jackson hadn’t spoken much but had seemed happy to get on with his work, still wearing the gingham apron, which was now liberally smeared with frosting and cream.

She glanced at the time. Fifty minutes to go. Would Aaron still be at the surf shop? She could accidentally-on-purpose bump into him there and continue their conversation. Or—

“Hey boss, I hate to interrupt your important job of looking into the distance with a smile on your face, but you’ve got in-coming.”

“What?” Frankie jumped before letting out a groan. She’d been miles away, and Jackson had caught her. For the second time in as many days. Her groan increased as she saw a slim woman marching toward them.

Despite the weather, she was dressed in a tweed skirt and a long-sleeved blouse, buttoned up to the neck with a strand of pearls peeking out from under the collar. Her gray hair was pulled back in an old-fashioned updo, and she was eighty years old, if a day.

Mrs. Willis.

“I knew it was too good to last,” she muttered before she could stop herself.

“Trouble?” Jackson lifted an eyebrow as Mrs. Willis sat down at a newly set table, taking time to examine the freshly laundered tablecloth. No doubt looking for stains.

“You have no idea. Last year she stressed Kenneth out so much he took three days off work.” Frankie reluctantly picked up her order book. As tempting as it was to be rude to the bad-tempered customer, Cricket Bay was too small to get on the bad side of a local.

And Mrs. Willis was as much of a fixture in the town as the mermaid fountain was.

“Want me to serve her?”

“You’d willingly walk into the lion’s den?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. Kenneth wasn’t the only one Mrs. Willis had stressed out. Her tongue was as sharp as Lo’s favorite paring knife.

“Nothing like living on the wild side. That’s if you don’t mind me breaking the rules.”

“They’re not rules,” she admitted. They were both paid the same amount of money, and Lo certainly hadn’t told Frankie who she wanted serving and who should be bussing and washing. Lo didn’t exactly know about the binder either. “Well, not technically.”

“You’re saying I don’t need to wear this?” Jackson glanced down at the apron wrapped around his waist, his face twisted in mock-outrage. Then he shrugged. “If you don’t want me serving, that’s fine. I just figured—”

“I was a control freak?”

“No…just that you seem happiest doing the behind-the-scenes stuff,” he corrected, though there was a hint of a smile on his face.

Her resolve lessened. He was right. Organizing was her happy place. But after the disaster that had been Kenneth, she’d been forced to let him do it. The lesser of two evils. And Mrs. Willis really did seem to dislike her. Frankie chewed her lower lip, then looked at the crayon drawing hanging on the wall. How bad could Jackson Lang really be when he had such a cute little sister?

Was this the universe trying to give her a sign?

“Are you sure? I wasn’t joking about her.”

“I think I can handle it.” He grabbed the order book and stepped out the door. Frankie busied herself rearranging the slices of cake on one of the display stands as Jackson reached the table.

Mrs. Willis’s glacial gaze swept over him, and her mouth tightened.

Frankie put the lid back on the display.

It had obviously been a mistake to send him out there. Mrs. Willis would probably eat him alive. And worse. He might retaliate. After all, Kenneth had when he’d dropped a pot of cream into the cranky woman’s lap.

She raced out the door only to be greeted by a blast of rich, throaty laughter. Coming from Mrs. Willis. Frankie’s jaw dropped as the older woman tilted her head with interest while Jackson talked to her. Then she laughed again and patted his arm as she pointed to something.

Now it was his turn to smile as he jotted down her order in the book.

They chatted for a bit longer before he left the table.

What had just happened?

“Careful,” Jackson said in a soft voice as he walked past her. “You might catch flies.”

“H-how did you do that?” Frankie followed him back into Rosie. “She smiled. And laughed. Do you know what that means?”

“That she likes red velvet cake and English Breakfast tea?” he said as he hung the order up on the rack. “I told her it wouldn’t take long.”

“Sure.” Frankie blinked and reached for a pink-and-mint-green plate and carried it over to the cake stand to prepare it. Jackson brewed the tea and delivered them both back to the elderly woman, who offered him up a third smile. In a row. She then chatted with him for several minutes.

Surreal.

“I think table four is ready to order,” he said as he reappeared, a smile still hovering around his mouth.

“Right.” Frankie had been so distracted about Mrs. Willis she’d forgotten all about the other customers.

It was a group of local women who liked to wear workout gear as they ate cake, maybe hoping it would counterbalance the sugar.

She picked up an order book and headed over. The menus were all face down on the table, suggesting they’d made up their minds, but as soon as Frankie reached them the women all picked them up again.

“Actually, we might need a few more minutes,” one of them said before blatantly staring over at the serving hatch, where Jackson was washing another stack of dishes.

“Oh,” she managed to say before returning to Rosie and thrusting the order book at him. His navy eyes clouded.

“Seriously?”

“The public has spoken,” she said, and once again pretended to rearrange the cake displays as she covertly watched his progress. The women didn’t seem bothered by his brooding expression, or the fact he looked seriously out of place in a retro tearoom wearing a floral apron and talking about cupcakes. Instead they all smiled and chatted with him.

His voice was too low for her to catch what he was saying, but it was hilarious, judging by the laughter that followed.

They obviously didn’t share her dislike of bad boys.

He returned several minutes later with the order, and while she busied herself with plating it all out, he prepared the teas. All without even gloating.

He served four more tables before it was finally time to close. He was definitely not Kenneth.

“I’m going to take the tables and chairs over to the storage shed,” he said and disappeared again.

Frankie emptied out the nearest fridge and used a cloth to clean the shelves. She was just finishing when her phone beeped with a text message.

It was Aaron.

I survived my father’s wrath. Btw, you looked cute today.

She grinned and tapped her screen. You got a thing for aprons?

It’s growing on me. So…you get time off for good behavior?

She caught her breath, her heart pounding. Who wants to know?

Me, was the reply, accompanied by a smiley face. There’s a party @ Sam’s house on Sat night. Want to go?

Was he serious?

Of course she wanted to go. Sam Robinson was going to be a senior and was almost as popular as Aaron. And she’d just been invited to one of his legendary parties.

Would it be wrong to do a victory dance?

She stood up and glanced toward the surf shop. Probably not a good idea in case Aaron was watching. There was no sign of him, so she punched the air and grinned.

Sure, she replied and managed to only add one emoji. He sent her a thumbs up and promised to text through the details later. Frankie stared at the screen.

Had that really just happened?

Had he really asked her out?

“Surprise,” Lo said from somewhere behind her. Frankie turned as her aunt bustled in. Her hair was in its usual beehive with a yellow rose poked artfully in the side. “I’ve just finished the last delivery and thought I’d see how you were doing. Who plugged you in? You’re glowing.”

“I am?” Frankie said before wrinkling her nose. Her poker face was nonexistent. “Okay, a certain someone just asked me out.”

“Really? Who?” Lo said, glancing around, as if searching for a hidden boy.

“Aaron Tremain,” Frankie said.

“Oh.” Some of the gleam left her aunt’s eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frankie folded her arms.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you liked him.”

“What’s not to like? Baseball star. Good teeth. Smart.”

“You know that’s not how love works, right?”

“You’re not going to give me the birds and bees talk, are you?”

“Relax. I’m just teasing.” Lo laughed and walked over to the money drawer. Frankie usually cashed up, but if Lo was here, she could do it while Frankie finished cleaning. Her aunt flipped open the drawer and began to count. She let out a slow whistle. “You had a good day.”

Frankie collected the dirty tablecloths that had piled up in the corner as the day had worn on. “Yes. It seems busier this year, which is good.”

“Works for me,” Lo said. As she finished cashing up, Jackson reappeared near the awning, pushing the hand truck he’d been using. His dark hair was still slicked back like a rockabilly and despite all his protests, he hadn’t taken off the apron. “Ah, Jackson’s still alive. I’m so pleased you resisted the urge to kill him.”

“There’s still time,” Frankie said, but she couldn’t help but smile. “So maybe I overacted. He’s been okay,” she admitted.

“Frankie Hargreaves, did you just admit that it wasn’t a mistake to hire him?” Lo said, just as Jackson glanced over and waved. Her aunt waved back, and Frankie let out a reluctant sigh.

“Fine. I admit that it wasn’t a huge mistake.”

And it was true. They were never going to be best buddies, but he was a lot easier to work with than Kenneth, and the customers seemed to like him. More importantly, he hadn’t ruined her summer plans. She had a date with Aaron.

4

Jackson found a parking space and made his way to Rosie. Frankie was already there. It had become an unspoken agreement that whoever got there last had to buy the coffee. Damn. He stopped at the coffee cart and put in an order. His was simple. No cream, no milk, and no sugar. But Frankie insisted on drinking a triple venti, half-sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. He was sure she only ordered it to annoy him.

“Ah, the sweet taste of success.” She walked over, taking the cup from his hand. As usual, her blonde hair was pulled back off her face with the same kind of precision she used when she was plating up the cakes. She was wearing a pale pink dress that left her tanned arms bare. “I’ve already set up everything inside. You okay to do the tables and chairs and cover me for the first hour?”

“Sure.” He nodded, trying not to look at her arms. “You off somewhere?”

“Kenneth called in sick last night, so I’m catching a taxi to the kitchen and will do the dishes while Lo drops the cakes off here and does a few more deliveries. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Can I help? I could do the delivery run in my car.” Jackson raised an eyebrow. He’d finally met Kenneth yesterday and discovered Frankie hadn’t been exaggerating. The guy was a bit of a loser. Unlike Frankie, who seemed to work almost as hard as Lo herself.

“It’s cool. Kenneth has an aversion to working Saturdays, so it’s not really a surprise. But thanks for offering. I’ll let Lo know.”

“Okay,” he said as Frankie’s eyes narrowed in on the latest picture Chelsea had drawn.

“Let me guess, your mini Picasso has been at it again.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He passed it over, careful not to touch her hand. The paper was filled with multi-colored squiggly lines covering all of the space. Frankie held it one way, and then the other, before wrinkling her nose.

“I might need a clue.”

“Ice-cream snow,” he said, not bothering to add that he’d been equally confused.

She studied it again, and then her mouth turned up, and the dimple appeared. Most of the time she was organized and structured, but when she smiled there was a wild gleam in her eyes. It suited her.

I like it.

“Ah, ice-cream snow. It makes perfect sense.” She handed it back to him. “Do you mind putting it up on the wall of fame? I’d better get going.”

He waited until she jogged over to the taxi stand before he took a slug of coffee and went to get ready for the day. He taped the drawing up, along with three others his little sister had done, and then got to work.

xxxx

Frankie reappeared an hour later, and the morning was filled with a procession of customers.

“I swear Lo puts something addictive into these muffins,” Frankie said as she filled up the display plate again. “We’ve sold two dozen. Or maybe it’s voodoo?”

“Could just be good old-fashioned sugar and butter,” he suggested, which earned him an eye roll.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” a voice said, and Jackson’s fingers stiffened on the teapot he’d been in the process of filling. He put it down and turned around.

It was Tania. His ex.

Frankie, who’d been closest to the serving window, glanced at him, her gaze curious. Hell. He took a couple of quick breaths and stepped closer.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, J? I’m here for tea. Isn’t this place adorable?” Her words were light, but her voice dripped with sarcasm. Probably because her idea of a good time didn’t involve tea and cakes.

Her eyes glittered, and her red hair hung down around her face. She was wearing a black skirt and a black leather vest with nothing underneath. He’d thought she was beautiful once. But the outside didn’t quite match the inside. Cruel. Reckless. Angry.

“I don’t think so,” he said in a cool voice.

There were a couple of tables that needed clearing. He glanced at Frankie and then grabbed a tray. He was out the door in two steps and went to the one furthest away. Tania sauntered after him. Good. Because the last thing he wanted was for Frankie to be involved in any of their conversations.

Not because it was his ex, but because the world she came from wasn’t anything a girl like Frankie needed to know about.

“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Tania said. “My dad’s been asking after you. Thought you might want a second chance. He’s got a big job on. It’s a good deal. You should talk to him. He’s not the only one who misses you. I know things got…complicated…but we can move past it.”

Not in this lifetime.

His knuckles whitened.

Their dads had been tight friends, and while Tania’s father didn’t wear a patch on his jacket like Marty Lang had, his construction company wasn’t quite as legitimate as he made out. Jackson had found out last summer what Tania and her dad were really like.

“I have a job.” He carefully loaded up the delicate teacups before stacking the plates.

“Jeez, have you seen yourself? You’re wearing a freaking apron and playing tea parties.” Her eyes swept over him, and she licked her lips. “Why are you kidding yourself? You don’t belong here, J.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t belong,” he said in a low growl. Their eyes locked, and after what seemed like hours, Tania finally shrugged.

“The difference is that I know it. At least I’m not living a lie,” she said, then slowly sauntered away.

He waited until his anger had settled before clearing the tables. Tania was in his past. He’d walked away from her and everything she represented. She could talk all she wanted, but it was just words.

“Everything okay?” Frankie asked as he stepped inside. Her voice was soft and light. Like a cloud in one of Chelsea’s drawings.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. It won’t happen again.” He stacked the dishes by the sink and plunged his hands into the water. Everything could be cleaned if you just used enough soap.

xxxx

“You want me to take out the trash?” Frankie said at the end of the day, leaning over the counter to study the sky. Her voice was calm, but her wrinkled nose suggested she’d rather walk into a room with a hundred snakes than step outside.

The cobalt blue hue had turned gunmetal gray, and heavy drops of rain were pelting down like only a summer storm could. It had started as he’d begun to pack away the tables and chairs for the night. Which explained why he was soaking wet.

Frankie obviously didn’t want to share his fate.

Still. He could cut her some slack. She’d worked straight through her lunch break without complaining.

And she hadn’t said a word about Tania.

He’d half expected her to come back again, but there had been no sign of her. Which was the way it needed to stay.

“It’s okay.” He picked up another folding chair and loaded it onto the small hand truck. “Just one more trip, then I’ll do it before I take down the awning.”

“If you’re sure,” she said in an uncertain voice. “It’s just my hair doesn’t really play well with rain, and—”

“And you don’t want to mess it up for your date tonight with Aaron.”

Her mouth dropped. “How did you know about that?”

“We work together in a ten-foot food truck. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.” He shrugged. “And you talk to Via on the phone a lot. I managed to crack your very complicated code.”

She tilted back her head and let out a throaty laugh. “Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?”

“Nope. Never.” He stacked another chair onto the hand truck.

“Yes, I’m going on a date tonight. To a party at Sam Robinson’s place out at Hammer Point, and my hair takes forever to dry,” she admitted as a touch of pink stained her cheeks. One of her dimples appeared, along with a flash of white teeth.

“We can’t have that. Lucky for me my hair is now waterproof thanks to all the gunk in it.” He patted the rock-hard style and tried to ignore the sparkle in her eyes. Not that it was any of his business. If she wanted to party with a bunch of idiot jocks and cheerleaders it was her decision.

“Thanks.” She took the lid off the cake stand and carefully transferred the remaining slices into a glass container. When she was done, she peered back up at him. “So, do you have plans for tonight?”

Sure. My social life is a nonstop extravaganza.

“Babysitting Chelsea. We might go wild and watch Minions.” He shrugged. His mom worked Saturday nights cleaning an office block, and she wouldn’t be home until after midnight. Not that he minded watching his kid sister.

When he’d dated Tania, she’d always wanted to party, especially around the clubhouse his father had once been part of. It should have been the first sign he and Tania weren’t a good match. Babysitting was a lot safer.

“That actually sounds kind of fun.” She finished with the cakes and moved onto the leftover muffins.

“Only to someone who hasn’t already seen it five hundred times.” He flipped a table over and folded the legs down. He hoisted it onto the hand truck. Rain dripped into his eyes and blurred his vision. When he glanced up, Frankie was studying him. “Problem?”

“Just trying to make you out. You know, underneath the scowls and the monochrome wardrobe, you’re a pretty decent guy.”

“Just as long as you don’t tell anyone,” he said in a cool voice, which didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.” She lifted her fingers to her mouth and made a zipping motion. Despite himself, he smiled but didn’t answer. “Okay, while you finish doing that I’m going to cash up for the day.”

She busied herself with the tablet they used to ring up the sales, and he pushed the hand truck across the wet grass to the storeroom. The rain increased, pelting against his jacket like stabbing needles. He shrugged it off. He was past the tipping point of being soaked. A bit more water wouldn’t make a difference.

The other vendors were packing up, and he nodded to a couple as he unloaded the hand truck.

The sky darkened and the rain increased. Rivulets of water ran off the thick grease in his hair and down his neck as he took the trash over to the allocated dumpster. He flinched and increased his pace as steam rose up from the grass, the water and heat of the day battling together.

When he got back, Frankie was still leaning over the counter, tapping away at the iPad, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she worked. Her lips were pressed together in concentration. Damn, she was cute. He came to a halt and tried to drag his gaze away from her.

No good could come from checking her out. She was so far out of his league it was laughable. Rain pelted his face, but instead of cooling him down, his skin was burning.

He turned away and dropped his head and pushed the hand truck around to the back of Rosie. The small awning that covered the generator and milk crates they used for their lunch break was sagging under the rain, which meant he’d get another shower when he took it down.

“You’re going to get soaked.” Frankie appeared, her hair tucked under a cap to protect it from the rain.

He held up his arm to demonstrate that it was too late, not quite trusting himself to look directly at her. Bad enough he felt things. No way did he want her to know about it. She’d laugh, or get him fired. Or both.

“It’s fine.”

She didn’t look convinced. “We could just leave it up overnight.”

“I really don’t mind. But thanks.”

“For not wanting to send you out in the pouring rain?” She raised an eyebrow. “You must have worked for some choice people if you think you need to thank me for that.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’d better get this done.”

“Sure. Oh, and I’ve put a couple slices of cherry pie in a box for Chelsea and your mom.”

“I hope I can get in on that action,” a third voice said, and Aaron Tremain appeared. He was holding a gigantic golf umbrella and was almost completely dry, from the tip of his precious blond hair down to his expensive sneakers. The heat that had been dancing on Jackson’s skin turned to ice, as if someone had flipped a switch.

“Hey.” Frankie spun around, her whole face brightening. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is everything still set for tonight?”

“Sure is.” Aaron’s mouth twisted into a wolfish smile. Jackson wanted to punch him in the face. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his soaking jacket as the water dripped down his legs. “I just figured you might not have an umbrella, so I’ve come to rescue you,” Aaron said with a gallant sweep of his hand.

“You’re a total hero.” Frankie’s cheeks turned pink. “I can’t believe this weather. I was worried the party might be canceled.”

“No way. Sam once had a party in the middle of an electrical storm. It was crazy,” Aaron said as he snapped the umbrella shut. Rivulets of water ran down into a puddle by his feet. “Anyway, I’d better go close up the store, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Wait. You can’t go without your umbrella. You’ll get soaked. I know, I’ll walk you back. It’s a win-win.”

“Works for me,” Aaron said as he picked up the umbrella again and flipped it open. A shower of water sprayed out in Jackson’s direction. “Sorry, buddy.” He shrugged and offered Frankie his arm.

“I’ll be back in five minutes, tops,” she said, not bothering to turn around as the pair of them stepped out into the rain, cocooned under the giant umbrella.

Jackson quickly turned away and tried to ignore Frankie’s giggling as Aaron leaned close to her ear and whispered into it.

He didn’t know why he was so pissed. He had no interest in having a girlfriend. And even if he did, it would never be with his boss’s niece. Besides, girls like Frankie Hargreaves weren’t meant for the likes of him.

You don’t belong here, J.

It might be true, but he didn’t belong in his old world either. He stepped out into the rain and finished taking down the small back awning, trying not to think about the implications. If he didn’t belong in Frankie’s world and he didn’t belong in Tania’s, then where did he belong? Then again, did it really matter? He just needed to focus on what counted. His mom, his sister, and making sure they could afford to eat. Everything else was just a distraction.

xxxx

What did a person wear to a party?

Frankie picked up her cutoff shorts and then discarded them. Sure, she’d been to parties before but only with Via and the rest of her classmates. No alcohol. No Aaron Tremain. No potential kissing.

Thankfully, the rain had finally stopped and given way to a few pale beams of late afternoon sunshine, leaving the temperature almost humid. Perfect party weather.

She padded over to her closet and flicked through the hangers until she came to a sheer white shirt. The cotton was super soft, and she usually teamed it with a tank top. Her eyes drifted to the silver bikini top she hadn’t yet dared wear. Yes.

She matched it up with a high-waisted skirt of soft cotton and dug her silver sneakers out from under her bed. Lo had given her a collection of silver bracelets for her birthday last year. Frankie pushed them up her arm. There. She was casual, but not too casual.

Hopefully Aaron wouldn’t be able to resist.

A quick glance at her phone told her there was still twenty minutes before she needed to leave. She was ahead of schedule thanks to Aaron’s chivalrous appearance with an umbrella, which saved her from any other potential hair disasters. Could he be any cuter? The only one not pleased to see him was Jackson.

Though it made sense. Aaron and Jackson were night and day. Well, on the surface. Beneath his bad boy exterior, Jackson wasn’t that bad. The last few days working with him had almost been enjoyable.

Whatever weird magic he had with the older women of Cricket Bay had continued, and the arrangement seemed to work.

He served and she plated up the perfectly presented cakes and cupcakes.

Like a team.

No. Not a team. He’s just a guy my aunt hired.

She checked the time again. Eighteen minutes and counting. The waiting was killing her. She could just leave early. Aaron lived almost next door to Sam Robinson, and it’d be crazy for him to drive twenty-five minutes back into town just to collect her, so she was going to get an Uber.

“Frank, you home?” Lo called from downstairs as the front door creaked open.

“Yes, but not for long.” She poked her head out of her room. “Did you have a good day?”

“You could say that,” Lo replied, her voice breathless. “I have news.”

“She sure does,” Johnny added, which for some reason made Lo giggle. Okay. That was weird. Her aunt was many things, but a giggler wasn’t one of them. “You might want to come downstairs.”

“Be right there.” Frankie tucked her phone into a small purse and slung it over her shoulder. She wouldn’t bother putting on lip gloss until she got to the party. She left her room and headed to the staircase.

Lo’s love of the nineteen-fifties was everywhere, from the floral-patterned carpet to the ceramic flying ducks along the wall. When Frankie had first arrived, it had been hard to adjust to the styled interior, which had been so different to their cramped L.A. apartment with bad wallpaper. But now she hardly noticed.

Lo and Johnny were in the middle of the room, their arms wrapped around each other. Johnny was stick thin and shared Lo’s vintage love, usually wearing a bowling shirt and slicked-back hair. Although it was almost impossible to tell what he was wearing now thanks to the embrace.

“Seriously, you two? I thought I was the teenager around here.” Frankie raised her hands and covered her eyes before letting out a dramatic groan.

“Trust me, the last thing I want is to relive my teenage years.” Lo untangled herself and spun around. Her immaculate beehive was rumpled, and her red lipstick was smudged. Then she held out her left hand and something glinted in the last rays of sunlight that were still trying to push through the window.

Was that a diamond?

As in a diamond diamond?

Frankie’s mouth dropped. “Is it real—”

“It sure is. All one and a half beautiful shiny carats of it.” Lo’s emerald eyes glittered with tears. She opened her arms and Frankie found herself wrapped in a hug. Her aunt’s familiar scent surrounded her, and Frankie tightened the hug.

“I can’t believe it,” she said once they broke apart and Lo held out her hand for the ring to be inspected. Frankie didn’t know much about diamonds, but she knew that the ring was huge. And pretty. “Tell me everything.”

“Johnny picked me up from work and said he needed to stop off to see a client on the way home,” Lo said.

“Except I didn’t really,” Johnny interjected with a grin.

“He sure didn’t.” Lo gave him a loving kiss before resuming. “He took me to our favorite spot overlooking the beach. It was too wet to get out, but he still produced this giant picnic basket. Champagne, chocolate, and so, so many cheeses.”

“I figured she couldn’t say no to cheese,” Johnny added before they reenacted the entire proposal. When they were finished, Lo’s smile faded and she caught Frankie’s gaze.

“So…what do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” she said truthfully. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Lo. Her aunt hadn’t wanted kids of her own but had never thought twice about taking Frankie in. Then she gave Johnny a smile. “Really, I’m so pleased for both of you.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Johnny said, and she was dragged into another hug. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Yeah you are,” Lo said, sounding a lot more like herself as her smile lost some of its sparkle. “But Frankie, Johnny and I have talked about this, and nothing’s going to change. You understand what I’m saying? I’m not going anywhere.”

Emotions lodged in Frankie’s throat and she nodded.

Lo had never made her feel less than important. Less than safe. It’s what had helped her survive that first terrible year, and all the years since. She glanced at the photo of her mom. It was in a silver frame and nestled next to one of Lo’s favorite ceramic deer.

The photo had been taken a few months before she’d died, and Frankie had purposely cut out Keith, who’d been standing next to her mom. The biker who’d disappeared one night, taking all their money with him. The guy who’d left them unable to afford insurance. Insurance that might have saved her mom’s life—

Nope.

Not thinking about that. Especially when Lo was getting married to someone who was the exact opposite of Keith. Johnny was kind and sweet and stable and just the sort of guy to make her aunt happy.

“I know,” she said, and this time they both sandwiched her in a hug. After a few seconds Frankie let out a smothered plea. “You guys, breathing is starting to become a problem.”

“Whoops.” Johnny gave her a sheepish smile and stepped back, though he never let go of Lo’s hand.

“Toughen up,” Lo teased as she inspected her ring again. “Now, the big question is, where do we go to celebrate? I was thinking The Hungry Owl would be good. What do you say, Frank?”

Frankie stiffened. Celebrate?

As in tonight?

“You want me to come?” She licked her lips as she went from Lo’s glowing face to Johnny’s. They both nodded.

“Absolutely. We’ll have a party in a couple of weeks, but tonight’s special. Just the three of us,” Lo said before her eyes swept over Frankie’s outfit. “Did you have plans?”

Frankie opened her mouth to speak. To say she had a date. Her first date with Aaron. But this was Lo. The woman who’d raised her for the last eight years. And in that time Frankie had never seen her happier.

Aaron would understand. They could go on a different date tomorrow. She slipped her phone out of her purse.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” she promised as she sent Aaron a quick text. Then she smiled at the engaged couple. “Now, let’s go celebrate.”

xxxx

“Lo and Johnny are engaged? No way.”

“Way,” Frankie assured Via the following morning as she slipped out of the house and filled her friend in. The sun was in full force. Her sneakers scuffed as she walked, and she stifled a yawn. She was tired from the late night, but it had been impossible not to get caught up in the excitement.

“I do love a happy ending,” Via said in a dreamy voice from the other end of the phone. “I wish I could go to the engagement party. It will be amazing.”

“You’ll be there in spirit,” Frankie said. “So, how’s Camp Doom going?”

“Leaching me of the will to live. Which is why I don’t want to talk about it. For five minutes I want to hear about town things. About places that have electricity and coffee to go. Understand?”

“I’m pounding the sidewalk just for you.”

“Ah…sidewalks. It’s been so long.” Via let out a wistful sigh. “By the way, you didn’t tell me how Aaron was when you cancelled the date. Was he okay?”

A very good question.

Her smile faded as she crossed the road to the bus stop. “I don’t know. He never replied to my messages.”

“Oh.” Via sounded like she was frowning. “Maybe he had his phone turned off last night?”

“Yeah,” Frankie quickly agreed. She’d been telling herself the same thing all evening. And as for why he hadn’t replied this morning, there could be any number of reasons. Cyclone. Phone-eating dog. Zombie apocalypse.

Or because he hates me.

“I know that voice,” Via said, proving she was somehow wired up to Frankie’s brain. “And you can stop right there. If he asked you on a date, he’s hardly going to dump you just because you had to cancel. Trust me, there’ll be a legitimate reason for his radio silence. You just need to apologize. It’ll be fine.”

Frankie brightened. “Actually, I was thinking about that and have come up with a brilliant new plan.”

Via laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Go on, hit me with it.”

“I thought I could make it up by asking him out.”

“Definitely proactive behavior. So, what were you thinking?”

“Remember I told you he was wearing a Waves T-shirt? Then we were talking about how they were playing here at Summerfest. So, this morning I booked two tickets and am going to his house to ask him.”

Silence.

Okay. That wasn’t quite the response she’d been hoping for. Besides, it was a genius idea.

“That’s a pretty big gesture.” Via paused, as if considering her words. “Those tickets are expensive.”

“They’re not too bad,” Frankie said, though it was a lie. Truth was, it had cleaned out her savings. But what was the saying? Go big or go home.

Well, this was her going big.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t just invite him for a coffee first? I mean, you canceled a date, you didn’t cut off one of his limbs.”

“I can have a coffee any old day. I want this to be special. And what could be more special than Summerfest?”

More silence.

“I’m still not sure,” Via said, just as Frankie was starting to think they’d been cut off. “Especially about the part where you go out to his house. Doesn’t he live at the Point? How are you even going to get there?”

“I’ve got the route all planned out,” Frankie said, not bothering to add that she had to change buses three times. Details schmetails. “And Rosie’s closed today, so it’s not like I have to rush back. He might even want to go for a walk on the beach.”

“I guess. Though it seems like you’re going to a lot of trouble. What does Jackson think?”

Frankie came to a stop. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“It just seemed like you two had become friends this week. You’ve been buying each other coffee, and his sister gives you drawings. And he’s a guy, so I figured you might have run it past him. To get a testosterone point of view.”

“You know that sounds gross, right?” Frankie said, still frowning. “And we’re not those kinds of friends. I mean, yes we get along better than I thought, but it’s just because we’re working together.”

“Oh. My mistake. I just thought—”

“Well, don’t,” Frankie said in a rush as an image of Jackson’s arms flashed into her mind. So what if he had strong muscly arms? Lots of people did. More importantly, even though they were getting along better, that didn’t mean anything. Jackson might be a nice guy, but that’s what her mom probably thought when she’d met Keith.

Yet he’d come with more baggage than an airport carousel, and her mom had ultimately paid the price.

Besides, she’d seen Jackson’s ex the other day. If that was his type, then clearly he and Frankie weren’t suited. After all, Tania Wise had curves for days and already had at least three tattoos. They couldn’t be more different if they tried.

Definitely from different worlds.

Anyway, it was all irrelevant. Aaron was everything she wanted.

“Of course,” Via quickly said. “You know I’ve got your back, and if you think this plan will work, then go for it.”

“Thanks,” Frankie said as she began to walk again. The bus stop soon came into sight and she said goodbye to her friend. She didn’t care what Via said, it was a great plan. No way would it fail.

5

Jackson pushed a strand of hair out of his eye as his pencil flew across the surface of the sketch pad. He’d been up since five trying to get the drawing finished before it faded from his mind. He yawned, and with a final stroke, he sat back. It was of the fountain in the square. He’d never paid much attention to it before. Just a mermaid, there to impress the tourists. But yesterday, while taking the trash to the allocated dumpster, he’d caught the curiosity in the brass eyes. As if she wanted to climb out of her watery perch and explore the world.

To do something different.

To be someone else.

I know a thing or two about that.

He studied his work and frowned. He wasn’t quite sure he’d nailed it, but he’d give it another shot later in the day. The front door opened, and he shut his sketch book. Even though he’d managed to keep most of his work private, his mom had insisted on hanging up a few of his pictures. They were mainly of the beach, reflections of his attempt to capture the waves and the ever-changing skies.

His only consolation was that no one ever came over, which meant he wouldn’t be forced to endure other people commenting on his work.

For him, it was private. The one thing his father’s reputation didn’t touch.

The one place where he could be himself.

“You’re up early.” His mom dropped her keys into the bowl on the counter and rubbed her eyes. “Everything okay? Chelsea?”

“Still asleep.” He poured himself a coffee from the percolator. It wasn’t the best stuff around, but the caffeine helped his brain kick into gear. He poured a second cup for his mom and passed it over. “Work okay?”

“The usual.” She shrugged and automatically started to make Chelsea’s breakfast. “You want anything to eat?”

“I’m good. I just need to grab a shower and then I’m heading out.”

A frown crossed her face. “I thought you had the day off?”

“I want to go to the beach. To draw before it gets too busy.”

“That’ll be nice,” his mom said, and Jackson headed to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he’d showered and shaken out his hair. At least he didn’t have to grease it back today. His leather jacket was still damp from yesterday’s rain. He left it where it was and threw on a denim jacket over his black T-shirt.

When he returned to the kitchen, Chelsea was awake and chatting as she drew a picture. Miss Sparkles sat watching. He ignored the doll and ruffled his sister’s hair.

“I’m off.”

By the time he hit the road, tourists were already out in force, most of them carrying sun umbrellas and brightly colored blow-up animals to take into the water. Usually he hated this time of year, but most of the people who’d come to the teashop had been okay. Decent even.

Maybe they weren’t all bad?

Not that he was going to any of the main beaches. There was a spot further along the bay that most people didn’t bother with because of the difficult access. It meant he’d get some privacy.

He flicked on his turn signal and drove toward an empty bus stop. Except it wasn’t empty. A girl with poker-straight blonde hair was sitting there, long tanned legs hanging out from a pair of familiar denim cutoffs.

Frankie?

He checked again. Yup. Definitely her. As for why she was sitting at a bus stop at the wrong end of town, he didn’t have a clue.

He jammed on the brakes and pulled over.

“Need a lift?” He leaned out the window.

“Jackson?” Her face rippled in surprise though she loosened her grip on the small purse in her lap. Not that he blamed her for keeping it close. This wasn’t exactly the safest part of Cricket Bay. Too near the Boards. She finally seemed to collect herself. “It’s okay. I’m waiting for the number eight.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t catch the bus much, do you?”

“What’s that mean?” Her eyes narrowed, and she began to look more Frankie-like.

“One of the joys of this part of town. The bus service is bad during the week. On a Sunday it’s nonexistent.”

“Oh.” Her mouth pressed together. “Thanks. I’ll get an Uber.”

“Sure. Because that’ll be faster than me driving you…unless you don’t want to get in a car with a bad boy,” he said, slipping back into the easy banter that had built up between them. It was safer. A reminder that they were work colleagues only.

A smile hovered around her mouth as she stood and peered into the passenger seat, where one of Chelsea’s plush toys was sitting.

“Here’s a tip. If you want to keep your reputation, you might need to lose the glittery unicorn.”

“I knew I was doing something wrong.” He tossed the offending toy into the back seat. “You want a lift?”

She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes clouded with indecision. “You don’t mind?” she said. He leveled his gaze at her, and she let out a small laugh. “Sure, thanks.”

She walked around the front of the car, a soft breeze blowing strands of straight blonde hair against her cheek. He leaned over and opened the door for her. The car filled with the faint scent of strawberries and vanilla that always accompanied her. Her arms and legs were tanned, and her cheeks were flushed with soft shades of pink.

He dragged his gaze away and waited until she was settled, then he eased back into the traffic and focused on the road. After all, he’d survived working with her in Rosie, he could handle this.

“So, where are we going?”

“Hammer Point,” she said, once again clutching the purse in her lap. Her lips pressed together like she was going to ask again if it was okay. She seemed to think better of it. “Just to the bus stop.”

“Hammer Point?” he said before catching himself. Of course. Aaron Tremain lived out there. Almost next door to Sam Robinson from what he’d heard. No surprises. The irony had never been lost on him that to get to the most exclusive part of Cricket Bay, you had to drive through the worst part. Which was why she’d been at the bus stop.

So why was she going there?

Only one reason. It must’ve gone well at the party and she was making a booty call.

Oh, hell.

He almost let out a bitter laugh. Frankie was way too good for a loser like Aaron, yet somehow Jackson’d agreed to drive her there. Nice work.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Frankie commanded, as if reading his mind.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” he lied and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He turned down the coast road. The dark cobalt waves were tipped with white as they moved closer to the shore.

“Good.” She primly crossed her long legs. Then she let out a sigh. “If you must know, I’m going out to see Aaron. I need to apologize for not making the party.”

Really?

He forced himself not to take his gaze from the road ahead.

“Don’t tell me there was a hair disaster?”

She let out a tiny gurgle of laughter. “Not exactly. Lo and Johnny got engaged and wanted me to go out and celebrate. I couldn’t really say no.”

“Wow.” He let out a whistle. As a rule, marriage wasn’t something he knew much about, but he’d worked for Johnny since he’d left the construction site last year, and Lo seemed like good people. If anyone had a chance to be happy, they’d be good candidates. “That’s great.”

And she’d missed the party. There was no reason why he should be pleased, but all the same he couldn’t help but smile.

“It really is.” Frankie twisted slightly in her seat, and he glanced at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dimple had appeared. Yup. She was definitely happy.

“So, where does the house call fit in?” he said.

“He hasn’t replied to any of my messages, so I wanted to apologize in person.”

“Okay.” He stared ahead, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut. Sure, they were getting on better, but he hardly wanted to talk boys with her. Next they’d be braiding hair.

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to get the message.

“I mean, it’s the polite thing to do, right?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Always good to be polite.”

“I think so,” she said, though it was hard to tell if she was trying to convince herself or him. Then she let out a frustrated groan. “You’re a guy. Is it weird to invite him to a concert to make up for canceling last night?”

“You want to go to a concert with him?” Jackson said before he could stop himself. But seriously? A concert? All because Aaron Douchebag Tremain hadn’t returned any of her calls? The world was so messed up.

“That’s right. Summerfest. We were both talking about seeing the Waves live. I mean, that’s a great date, right?”

“I guess. As far as grand gestures go, it’s big,” he said, not wanting to admit that the few dates he’d taken Tania on had involved a burger bar and a movie. Not quite in the same ballpark. And hey, for all he knew buying concert tickets was a regular date for rich kids like Aaron.

“The way I figure, I need to go big or go home.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” he added in case she needed another worn-out cliché. She lifted her hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, you’ve made your point. Do you think he’ll hate it?”

“I have no idea what guys like him think,” Jackson said truthfully. He’d never exchanged more than a handful of words with Aaron. Nor did he want to.

“You sound just like Via.”

Her best friend didn’t think it was a good idea?

Interesting.

“She must be very wise.” He finally turned. Her lips were parted, and the sun streaming in through the window tugged at her hair, as if trying to loosen it up.

He tried not to notice how cute she looked.

He failed.

“Via’s just averse to taking risks. She doesn’t like surprises.” Frankie shrugged, as if that explained it. “So, if you have a car, how come you knew about the buses? I looked up the schedule, and it said they ran every half hour.”

“They used to,” he agreed as the ocean flashed past them, a trail of blue and white. He could feel her looking at him, as if his answer wasn’t satisfactory. He sighed. “My mom had a cleaning job out this way.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize. Does she still have it?”

“No.” His knuckles whitened, and he tried to keep his voice flat. “She was working in one of the McMansions overlooking the water. But some jewelry went missing. And they blamed her. They later found out it was a caterer who’d been up there for a party. She’d stolen from several other houses as well.”

“What? That’s disgusting that your mom got blamed.” Her blue eyes flashed. “I hope they apologized when they gave her the job back. I don’t understand why they’d accuse her in the first place.”

Because if you’re connected to Marty Lang, you’re no good.

“Not exactly.” His voice tightened. Why was he talking about his family? “But it’s no big deal. She’s working somewhere else now.”

Frankie opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more but then just folded her arms across her chest. It drew his gaze, and he swallowed. Eyes on the road, buddy. No good could come from looking there. He forced himself to focus, and they made the rest of the trip in silence.

The long grass gave way to manicured lawns and towering fences, all rigged out with electronic gates, as they reached Hammer Point. The smaller houses were to the left, and on the right were the serious mansions, all looking out to the Pacific Ocean. Million-dollar views.

The bus stop loomed into sight, but he kept on driving.

“Hey, you missed it.” She let out a soft yelp.

“I figured I’d take you there. That way if he’s not home then you won’t be stranded. So, what’s the address?”

“Jackson…I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation. He got the feeling she hadn’t actually thought about what would happen if he wasn’t home. Frankie Hargreaves without a plan?

“Then lucky you’re not asking,” he said.

“But it’s your day off.”

“You can buy me a coffee tomorrow.” He shrugged. “Now, you going to tell me the address?”

She was silent as she tapped the screen of her phone and pulled up an app. “Okay, we’re going to 23 Sierra Lane. Take the next turn left. And thank you.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, trying not to look at her long legs. Who knew he’d ever be jealous of someone like Aaron Tremain?

xxxx

“Frankie, are you even listening to me?” Lo said the following morning as she handed over the trays of baking. Kenneth had called in sick again, which meant Lo was working double duty, baking and doing deliveries.

“Totally listening.” Frankie dragged her gaze away from the entrance of the surf shop. Besides, Aaron wasn’t due to start work for another hour. She had some time. “The chocolate cake has coffee ganache in the middle, and the cupcakes are laced with orange essence.”

“Hum.” Lo’s lips twitched, but before she could say anything else, an early customer appeared and let out a small gasp at the sight of the engagement ring on her aunt’s finger. Lo immediately presented her hand for closer inspection, leaving Frankie to start transferring the cakes onto the display stands, decorating them with the tiny white pansies Lo grew in the back yard.

The important thing was not to panic.

There’d been no answer when she’d rung the intercom at the imposing metal gate that protected the house from the outside world.

She didn’t want to dwell on the fact Jackson had witnessed her humiliation. She was just grateful he’d been there to drive her home, as it hit her just how ridiculous her plan had been.

Worse. Aaron still hadn’t returned any of her messages. It was like he’d fallen off the face of the earth. Or off the crazy glass balcony that jutted out from his house. Still, he was working today, which meant she’d be able to see him and apologize in person.

“Okay, I’m heading back to the kitchen. Muffins wait for no woman. Just call if there are any problems.”

“Will do,” Frankie promised as she finished putting the cakes away and started the rest of the food preparation.

“Need a hand?” Jackson asked from somewhere behind her. Her nose twitched with his familiar scent of fresh air and pine. All earthy and natural. His wild curls were combed back into the rockabilly style, and yet another floral apron was wrapped around his lean hips. There was a faint layer of sweat on his brow from setting up the tables and chairs.

It was almost a relief to see him back in the more constrained work environment rather than in his car, where he’d seemed different. Maybe it had been the hair, or the denim jacket?

Or that he was sweet and kind when he didn’t have to be.

She swallowed. “Would you mind setting the tables? There’s a clean pile of tablecloths by my purse.”

“Sure,” he said as his eyes flicked to the back wall. He’d given her another adorable drawing that Chelsea had done, and she’d hung it up with the others. The tightness around his jaw relaxed as he scooped the lacy cloths up and walked back out and methodically set the tables.

As he worked, a couple of tourists stopped and looked at him with interest.

Frankie couldn’t blame them. A six-foot guy with slicked-back hair, muscular arms, and bottomless navy eyes didn’t quite match the soft pink exterior of the food truck. And yet somehow it made sense.

It obviously made sense to the tourists too, and they walked over to ask about the menu before letting him lead them to a table. He returned with their order, and they were soon kept busy with a steady stream of customers.

xxxx

“Where did all these people come from?” Frankie complained later that afternoon as Jackson handed her yet another order. Three slices of Lo’s decadent ginger chocolate-layered cake, and a red velvet muffin. They closed in half an hour and things should have slowed down.

“I think it’s a coordinated attack. They synced their watches.” He flashed her a smile and began to load teacups onto his tray while Frankie plated up the first cake. “Make hay while the sun shines.”

She groaned. He’d taken to using clichés around her to counter her own. Now she was paying the price.

“Are you going to be like this all summer?” She carefully dusted the plate with baker’s sugar before adding a squirt of cream and tucking a tiny marzipan rosebud into the center. Perfect.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied before leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. “I take it you want to go and find Aaron. I can hold the fort if you want.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, annoyed that he thought he could read her. Even if technically, he apparently could.

“Your call.” He shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. Was he offended? Then he lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Looks like the mountain’s coming to you.”

She swung around to where Aaron was sauntering toward them. He was wearing another Waves T-shirt, and his blond hair was casually tousled. Man, he was good looking. Her heart pounded, and she resisted the urge to check that her hair was smooth. She just needed to act cool. Apologize for having to cancel and turn it into a cute joke. After all, even Jackson thought it was great Lo was getting married. No way could Aaron be mad about it.

She plastered on a smile in preparation. But he didn’t look up. He just sat down at table six, at the far end of the awning. He obviously wanted some privacy.

Fair enough.

“Go get ’em,” Jackson murmured as she squeezed past. Her arm brushed his, and her skin prickled. Okay, so I’m a little nervous.

She shook her arms to get rid of the unsettling sensation that Jackson’s touch had left behind. Then she stepped out of Rosie. Aaron was bent over, studying his phone, a smile tugging at his beautiful mouth. A smile. That was promising.

“Excuse me, can you please take these plates? We’ve finished,” someone from table three said as she walked past. Frankie groaned. If she ignored them, she’d be as bad as Kenneth.

“Sure.” She gave them a polite nod and picked up the first plate, using it to stack up the others. The silverware followed and they were left only with their teacups. As she worked, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on Aaron, who was still glued to his phone.

“Thank you,” the woman said once Frankie was finished. She beelined for his table, before anyone else could stop her. The silverware slid around as she moved, but she ignored it. Almost there.

“Hey—” she started to say just as someone swept past her in a rustle of pink fabric and hair spray. They threw themselves onto Aaron’s lap.

Melissa Fields?

She was a cheerleader who’d just finished junior year, and as far as Frankie knew, she was dating one of Aaron’s teammates.

“Oh my God.” Melissa covered his face in kisses, and his arms snaked around her waist. “Sorry I’m late. Parking was a nightmare.”

“Just made me miss you more,” Aaron purred before kissing her neck. Melissa let out a soft giggle and lowered her mouth to his. Frankie’s jaw dropped.

Wait. What was happening?

How was it happening?

Two days ago they’d been flirting together. Talking about their date. She’d bought Summerfest tickets.

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

Her hands shook as the plates and silverware fell to the grass with a thud. Heat rose to her cheeks as everyone turned to stare at her. The only ones who didn’t seem to notice were Aaron and Melissa, who were too busy exchanging saliva.

Finally, they broke apart, and Aaron turned to Frankie and shrugged. “Sorry I haven’t returned your texts. I’ve been a bit…preoccupied.”

“Yeah, well you can be preoccupied somewhere else.” Jackson was suddenly next to her. His arm almost brushing her shoulder.

“It’s a free country.” Aaron didn’t seem perturbed by Jackson’s height.

“Maybe, but it’s not a free table. It’s been reserved.” He coolly nodded to the small chalkboard that had been placed in the center of the table. He didn’t seem interested in adding that the party in question had been and gone.

Aaron’s face darkened as he leaned over and murmured into Melissa’s ear. She giggled and they both stood up, arms still tangled around each other like some weird game of Twister. Then, without another word, they sauntered away. Most of the customers seemed to be following their progress, and Jackson quickly leaned down close to Frankie’s ear.

“Go take a break. I’ve got everything under control.” His voice was a low murmur.

“I—” She opened her mouth to protest but as her eyes prickled, she nodded. “Thanks.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged and without another word he gathered up the stray plates and silverware while Frankie fled to the huge oak tree just behind Rosie and lowered herself to the ground. Tears rolled down her face, and the bark dug into her back, but she hardly noticed. She was too busy trying to figure out how soon she could go home and hide from the world.

xxxx

“Want to talk?” Jackson said forty minutes later as he joined her under the tree and handed over a plate. Perfectly centered in the middle was one of Lo’s orange chocolate chip cupcakes, though where the tiny violet pansy should have been was a smiling face made from silver sprinkles. “I figured misery loves cupcakes.”

“You’re seriously hitting me with a cliché now?” She took the plate, not quite sure that sugar and butter could possibly make her feel better. The only thing that would was a time machine that she could use to erase the whole humiliating scene. “I’m never going to live it down.”

“Sure you will. This is Cricket Bay. The next weird thing is probably already happening.” He picked up a stick and used it to draw something in the dirt. Then, as if realizing what he was doing, he threw it away and wiped out the picture with the bottom of his boot. “You liked that idiot?”

Yes. No. Maybe.

Certainly more than he’d liked her.

“Not anymore. I feel stupid.” She put down the cupcake and tugged out the carefully constructed list from her pocket.

She gripped it in both hands and tugged. It tore down the center, and she doubled it and ripped it again before balling it up and throwing it toward the nearby trashcan. She missed, and it landed several feet from her. Before the wind could collect it, Jackson got to his feet and retrieved it. He studied the small scraps before balling them back up and dunking them into the trash can. Of course it went in.

“I know you like to plan things, but I didn’t realize you’d planned when you’d kiss someone,” he said, rejoining her on the ground. Ah. And now her humiliation was complete.

At least he didn’t know it was her first kiss she’d been planning.

That she was a kissing novice.

That Aaron was her way of controlling her first experience and making sure it was good. Backfire much?

If Jackson knew any of it, he’d just laugh. He’d probably kissed loads of girls. After all, he was gorgeous. With his high cheekbones and fine layer of stubble that always covered his jaw…well…it was easy to see why someone would want to kiss him.

Seemed like everyone had someone to kiss. Except me. At least she had cake. She picked up the cupcake and pulled it apart with her fingers.

“Want some?” She offered him half. It was the least she could do since he’d saved her from making an even bigger fool of herself. A flash of a smile hovered around his mouth, but he held up his hand to refuse it.

“Does this mean you won’t dock my wages for it?” he said, getting to his feet.

“Wages? You mean I’m meant to be paying you?”

He gave her a brief smile. “I’d better go finish packing everything away. But trust me, Frankie. You’re better off without that guy.”

“I know,” she said as she leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. The worst thing was, she didn’t know who she’d misjudged more. Aaron or Jackson. Either way, her summer plans were over. No chance of kissing a boy now.

6

“I still can’t believe it happened,” Via said from the other end of the phone the following day. Frankie dragged the last of the trash bags to the dumpster. Late afternoon sun beat down on her arms and sweat beaded her brow. All she wanted was to sit down with a cool drink and take her sneakers off. It had been a long day. Not helped by her lack of sleep last night.

Still, in five minutes they could officially close.

“You tried to warn me when I spouted all that ‘go big or go home’ stuff. I’ve been punished by my own cliché.”

“I know I’m risk averse, but I think what you did was brave,” Via said. “You took a chance. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing?”

“You mean apart from the fact it backfired in a spectacular fashion? If it was a crime scene, they’d be calling in the blood spatter expert.”

She reached the dumpster and hauled the bag up. Her nose wrinkled at the stench as she used her other hand to close the lid. Frankie sighed and walked back toward Rosie.

Technicians were busy setting up musical equipment on the large stage, while the grassy area was filled with young kids running around like missiles, all wearing pink top hats. It was obviously some craze she knew nothing about.

“But at least you tried,” Via said. “If it’s any consolation, the word on social media is that Melissa threw herself at him. I doubt you could have stopped her.”

“Thanks,” Frankie said. She’d purposely stayed away from her feeds because there was only so much humiliation she could handle at any one time. And right now, between Aaron’s kissfest and then letting Jackson see her having a meltdown, her quota for the year was all used up. Not that it was any consolation. It wasn’t fair to blame Melissa. As far as Frankie knew, it took two to tango. Not to mention two to grope each other in the corner at a party.

“You’re welcome,” Via said before there was a scraping noise in the background. Her friend lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have to go.” It was followed by a panting sound, almost like Via was running.

“Go where?” Frankie frowned. Via hated running. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

But there was no answer. The call had been cut off.

Something weird was going on with Via. Next time they spoke she’d have to dig deeper. She pocketed her phone as she reached Rosie.

Afternoon sun glinted on the soft pink paintwork in a way that always made her smile. Yes, summer was turning into a train wreck, but she still got to work in the cutest food truck in the world. It was something.

Jackson had already packed away the awning and tables, but for some reason the serving window was open. She frowned.

She was sure she’d shut it before she left for the dumpster.

A little blonde head appeared over the counter. Chelsea. She must’ve been standing on a milk crate because she almost reached her big brother’s shoulder. She was wearing one of the floral aprons. It almost swamped her.

“Frankie. Look at me.” Chelsea waved. “I’m working.”

“You sure are.” She returned the wave as Jackson lowered his head and whispered into the little girl’s ear. Chelsea giggled and then fixed Frankie with a toothy smile.

“Welcome to Tea for Two. How can I help?” Chelsea carefully recited, and then burst out laughing.

“Right, that’s enough.” Jackson scooped the little girl down from her platform, and she disappeared from view. A moment later Chelsea, clutching her green-haired doll, darted out and hugged Frankie’s knees.

“Did I do a good job?”

“You sure did.” Frankie patted her blonde curls before Chelsea bounced over to a purple blanket that was spread out on the grass. There was a coloring book and a fluffy pencil case, and next to it was a pink top hat.

Jackson emerged, wearing a sheepish expression.

“I’m real sorry about this. My mom promised to take Chelsea to the Giggle Gang but got called in early for work. Her boss has been breathing down her neck. She couldn’t say no. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. We knock off in five minutes anyway,” Frankie said as she glanced over to where Chelsea was chatting away to her doll, looking all kinds of adorable. “And now I know why there are six million kids running around wearing pink top hats on the other side of the square. I take it it’s part of the act?”

“Ah, to live in a world where you don’t know anything about the Giggle Gang.” Jackson let out a wistful sigh and shook his head. “Lucky you.”

“Is it bad?”

“I’m not their target audience, so yes. To me they’re bad. But Chelsea loves them. Anyway, I’ll finish packing away.”

“Sure,” she said as he headed over to the shed, pushing the hand truck of tables. A couple of empty cans had blown across the grass and were caught under Rosie’s wheel. She stooped to gather them up. There was also a napkin wedged in there, so she retrieved it. She was about to ball it up when she realized someone had drawn on it. She flattened it out and let out a little gasp.

It was a pencil sketch of Rosie, and even in black and white it was amazing.

Who’d done it?

She tried to recall if any of their many customers had been drawing but came up blank. She studied it again. The artist had even caught her standing at the serving counter, carefully plating up a piece of cake.

Frankie stepped inside and smoothed the napkin down as best she could before taping it on the back wall along with Chelsea’s growing collection of drawings.

Then she returned to her cleaning. Once she was done, she picked up a cupcake. The pink frosting was smooth, and she reached for her pink sprinkles to create a tiny top hat. Then she slipped it into a take-home box and wrote Chelsea’s Wages on the top of it.

“You ready to lock up?” Jackson reappeared a couple of minutes later, packing the blanket and pencil case into his satchel. Chelsea was next to him, the pink hat balanced on top of her head. She was fizzing with excitement, obviously eager to get closer to the Giggle Gang.

“Not quite. I still have to cash up and clean out the fridge,” she said as Chelsea tugged his arm. “But you go. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned. “I can wait. There’s no hurry.”

“Yes, there is,” Chelsea corrected as she glanced longingly at the show at the other end of the square.

“I think you stand corrected. I don’t mind. And take this. It’s for our best worker.” She passed him the box, and his mouth twisted into a smile that made his navy eyes lighten. He had great eyes.

“Thanks,” he said before turning to Chelsea. “Okay, kid. Let’s go.”

“Wait. Where’s your hat?” His little sister’s lower lip went out in a pout.

Hat? Frankie blinked as Jackson gave her the box to hold and dug a slightly squashed pink top hat out of his satchel. He gave it a shake to get it back into shape.

“Seriously, don’t say it. Not a word,” he warned as he thrust it on his head.

“Say what?” Chelsea demanded.

“Say how great you both look,” Frankie said, doing her best to bite back a smile. “I hope you have fun.”

“We will,” Chelsea said as she danced off, dragging Jackson along after her.

“Ouch, be gentle,” he teased the little girl before scooping her up in his arms and jogging away. Chelsea let out a squeal, and Frankie stood in the doorway as they joined the crowd surging around the stage.

“What are you smiling about?” Lo appeared.

A guy who’s happy to wear a pink hat to make his kid sister happy.

A guy who drives a girl out to Hammer Point on his day off despite the fact it was the same girl who tried to get him fired.

A guy who was nothing like she’d expected him to be.

“Nothing.” Frankie shook her head and leaned in to kiss her aunt. “Just taking a break before I cash up. It’s been a busy day, so it’s your turn to cover dinner.”

“Well, since we’re both going over to Johnny’s house for his world-famous risotto, I can live with that. But while we have a spare moment, I wanted to talk to you about Jackson.”

“What about him?” she said, her face heating. Had Lo been reading her thoughts?

“Nothing,” Lo said in surprise. “Just wanted to check if we should invite him to the engagement party. Unless there’s something else you wanted to talk about?” Her aunt’s curious gaze swept over Frankie.

Oh. The engagement party. She knew that.

“Well, yes. Definitely. I mean, it’s a party. The more the merrier, right?”

“Good, that’s settled.” Lo’s lips twitched with amusement. “Now let’s get this place closed, then we can relax.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Frankie got to work, trying not to think about Jackson. If her disaster with Aaron had taught her anything, it was that when it came to boys, she was clueless.

More to the point, Jackson had told her he didn’t date. He had too many other things going on in his life. Important things. Real problems. He didn’t have time for a girl who made plans to kiss one boy and who ended up drooling over someone else entirely.

So, why did I tell Lo to invite him to the party?

She stifled the thought. Probably best not to answer that.

xxxx

Jackson climbed into the car and breathed in the heady scent of six dozen strawberry and chocolate cupcakes. If Chelsea was there she’d probably be bouncing with excitement. But he was too busy trying not to look at the envelope that had been tucked in with the deliveries. An invitation to the engagement party.

Parties weren’t really his thing.

And yet, if he went, Frankie would be there.

He’d been thinking about her way too much lately. It was becoming a problem. Especially the part where all he wanted to do was kiss her.

And all she wants to do is kiss Aaron Tremain.

Annoyance filled him. What a jerk.

Not to mention an idiot. Did Aaron have any idea Frankie had been planning how to kiss him? Did he even care?

He reached for the invitation and thrust it into his jacket pocket. He’d make the decision later.

He merged into the traffic and headed toward Main Beach to make the last of Lo’s deliveries before he went back to Rosie. In the last week, Kenneth had missed three days and Jackson had been helping out.

It meant getting up a bit earlier, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

The sun was already out and the golden sand was dotted with sun worshippers, while surfers were pooled together all competing for the next wave. The water was a mossy green with white caps rolling and waving in swirling swells. Unlike half of the population of Cricket Bay, he’d never fallen for the lure of the water, apart from sketching the ever-changing tidal marks left on the beach.

Sketching that he would no longer be doing on his lunch break. He still didn’t know how the drawing of Rosie had ended up under the wheel, but now he had to look at it every day on the wall. He longed to take it down but couldn’t really do that without admitting it was one of his.

He swung his car into the parking lot at the back of a hip coffee shop called Liquid and loaded up half of the boxes.

“Hey, sweetheart.” A woman looked up from the grill she was working. She nodded to a spare countertop, and he put them down, pausing to double-check they’d survived the journey.

“Thanks, Stella,” he said as he headed for the door. “I’ve got two more boxes for you.”

“Tell Lo she’s a lifesaver. These little delights will be sold out by eleven. I swear that woman’s a goddess,” she said and returned her attention to the grill.

“I’ll let her know.”

He walked back to the car. It was already warm, and he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it into the backseat, next to the collection of Chelsea’s teddy bears. He leaned in to pick up the second lot of boxes when someone giggled.

“You were amazing,” a girl cooed.

“Yeah. I’ve still got it,” a guy said in a smug voice, and Jackson stiffened.

Aaron Tremain.

He swung around to where the douchebag was standing next to a late model Jeep. There was a surfboard strapped onto the top, and he was shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist. His blond hair was slicked back to his scalp from an early morning surf. Next to him was Melissa Fields, wearing a micro bikini covered up by some kind of sheer dress.

Annoyance flooded his veins. While Frankie had been slumped against a giant tree, the idiot in front of him had been making out with another girl like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What are you looking at?” Aaron leaned against the Jeep, his mouth set in a sneer.

“Not much.” Jackson’s voice was cool. Aaron’s face went from brown to red.

“Look who’s talking. You want some advice, buddy?”

“I really don’t,” Jackson assured him.

“Isn’t that the guy who works with that girl who wouldn’t stop texting you?” Melissa blinked as she ran a hand along Aaron’s bare chest.

“That’s him.” Aaron snickered. “He’s a deadbeat and she’s a—”

“Think carefully about your next words,” Jackson growled, his knuckles tightening. He wasn’t a fighter. Not even close. But if this jerk thought he could talk about Frankie like that, he had another think coming. She was worth a hundred of him. A thousand.

Aaron’s jaw tightened as his gaze narrowed in on Jackson. Then he held up his hands and gave a dismissive shrug. Jackson might not be a fighter, but Aaron obviously didn’t know that.

“Whatever, man.”

“Seriously?” Melissa’s face tightened. “Are you going to let him talk to you like that?”

“He’s not worth it.” Aaron slung an arm around her shoulder. “Just some loser who’s heading for the can. If you ask me, they’re a match made in weirdo heaven.”

Melissa giggled, and Jackson sucked in a sharp breath, trying to get himself under control as Aaron climbed into the Jeep. Then it roared down the road and out of sight.

His fists unclenched, and he was finally able to pick up the second part of the delivery and drop it off before driving back to the square, annoyance still pounding against his skull.

Frankie had already collected the tables and chairs from the shed and was just finishing with the awning. She was full of surprises.

She lowered the hammer to the ground as her eyes swept over him. “What’s wrong with you? Did someone slip decaf into your coffee?”

Hell. Was he that readable?

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” she said. Today’s dress was cherry red with a low-cut neck and tight at the waist. She looked good. Too good for someone like Aaron to be talking smack about in a parking lot. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he said just as an all-too-familiar Jeep pulled up outside the surf shop. Seriously? Frankie followed his gaze and then pressed her mouth together.

“Please tell me it wasn’t anything to do with Aaron. Please tell me you didn’t get into a fight with him. He’s not worth it.”

She could say that again.

“It didn’t come to that. It’s no big deal.”

“Really? So if I went over to the surf shop and asked him, what answer would I get?”

Nothing good.

He rubbed his chin. “He just started to say some stuff. I convinced him not to.”

Frankie’s mouth dropped. “About me?”

“It didn’t get that far. He was just trying to show off in front of Melissa. We had a conversation and then it ended.”

Frankie was silent before she took a breath. “Jackson, will you promise not to fight him? Regardless of what he says about me?”

“Despite the jacket, I don’t actually go around fighting people.” He stalked over and picked up one of the vintage tablecloths. He flicked it open. Frankie didn’t move as the color drained from her face.

Oh hell.

The cafeteria.

He might not like fighting, but other people didn’t always feel the same way.

“I take it you saw what happened at school,” he said.

“I got the up close and personal view of it.” She walked after him and picked up a second tablecloth. She studied it, then met his gaze. “When Trevor punched you, you fell onto the table where—”

Damn. He sucked in a breath. “I wish that hadn’t happened. It wasn’t my finest hour. Did it freak you out?”

“Kind of. Plus you fell on my lunch tray.”

“That would explain the mac and cheese in my hair,” he said in a light voice, hoping the subject could be dropped. Hoping he could ignore just how different they were. That he was the kind of guy who’d always be dragged back into the world he’d come from. And it was a world Frankie didn’t belong in.

He was trouble, and she was someone who’d get hurt.

“What happened? Was it—” The unspoken word hung in the air, and then she seemed to shake herself. “Sorry,” she quickly said. “Please forget I asked that. It’s none of my business.”

She could say that again.

He was none of her business. And yet he hated the way her lower lip was trembling as if she’d overstepped her mark. Especially when the only one who’d overstepped anything was him, when he thought they could be friends.

He focused on the ground. “Last year Tania and I started dating. She got me a job working construction over the summer. Her dad owns the business and had been friends with my father. But Tania and I split not long after.”

“Is that why you quit that job? Because you couldn’t bear to be near her?”

He swallowed. Not exactly. But no good could come from telling her the truth.

He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just didn’t like the job. But the fight in the cafeteria was when Tania’s new boyfriend thought he’d make a name for himself by beating up Marty Lang’s kid. I should have seen it coming.”

“That’s outrageous. I can’t believe you almost got expelled when it wasn’t your fault. Did you tell Principal Callum what really happened?” Her eyes flashed, just like they’d done when he’d told her about his mom getting fired. She was fierce as hell when she wanted to be. Something shifted in him, and the tension in his shoulder blades loosened.

“It’s fine. I didn’t get expelled, so I live to study another day,” he said in a light voice, trying to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her waist and drag her to him.

“I guess.” She moved to the table next to him. “At least you weren’t hurt.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, not wanting to tell her that he might have only come away with a smashed jaw and sore knuckles, but the damage had still been done. Like all the doors that had shut on him when he’d tried to get a summer job. Not that there’d been many open to begin with.

“Thanks for telling me what happened. I get the feeling it’s not something you talk about very often.”

Try never.

“I just figured you had a right to know. Didn’t want you thinking I’d suddenly crash into your lunch when we’re back at school.”

“You’re safe. Via and I sit outside when it’s not raining,” she said before frowning. “I don’t even know where you hang out.”

“Why? You looking for some payback?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You never know.” She grinned. It didn’t take long to finish setting up, and as soon as the chalkboard had been dragged to the front of the awning, she gave him a shy smile. “Jackson, thanks for standing up for me.”

“No big deal.”

“It is to me,” she said, her eyes two molten pools. “I’m sorry I judged you when we first met.”

“Hey, after your lunch massacre, I can hardly blame you.”

She studied him and tilted her head, as if thinking. “Why don’t you let people see how nice you are?”

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t make any difference. To the world I’ll always be Marty Lang’s kid.”

“Well, you’re not that to me. Thanks for being my friend.”

She thought he was nice? And that they were friends?

Him and Frankie.

He swallowed.

Somewhere far away, another version of himself was yelling at him. Screaming for him to back off. Screaming that being friends with her could only lead to trouble. That this crush he had needed to end. And yet he couldn’t stop the smile from reaching his mouth.

“It’s cool.”

“Good,” she said as one of her irresistible dimples appeared. “Because my first official job as your friend is to inform you that your girlfriend’s here.”

He turned to where Mrs. Willis was making her way toward them in a stately manner. He knew that beneath her haughty expression she suffered a lot of knee pain, and he’d taken to helping her into a seat.

“Thought I told you I didn’t date,” he deadpanned, and she burst out laughing.

“My mistake. Now go sweet-talk her while I finish the sandwich preparation.” She flashed him a smile as she disappeared inside. His pulse hammered, and he had to steady himself before helping guide Mrs. Willis to a table.

The voice tried to scream at him again. But he pushed it down. Suddenly he was tired of staying away from people. Always having his guard up. He glanced back at her as she carefully checked all the cupcakes were perfectly displayed. If Frankie Hargreaves wanted to be his friend, then perhaps there was hope for him after all?

7

If Frankie never looked at another cupcake again, it would be way too soon. Well, not to eat, obviously. But for serving purposes, she intended on being a cupcake-free zone until Monday.

She should have gone straight home, but Lo and Johnny were in full engagement party mode, and as soon as she stepped over the threshold she’d be up to her elbows washing out punch bowls and sorting through silverware. Besides, it was her day off tomorrow. She’d help then. Right now, she just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. And so she’d caught the bus and come to her favorite thinking place.

The beach.

Ever since Jackson had told her the truth about the fight, her mind had been spinning.

She’d been there, and even though he hadn’t been throwing any punches, she’d been quick to label him as dangerous. Trouble.

I misjudged him.

Had Tania’s boyfriend beaten Jackson up because he was jealous? Tania looked like she was still interested when she’d turned up the other day. And sure she was gorgeous, in a fierce kind of way, but…she was also wrong for him.

He should be with someone who really appreciated him for who he was.

Someone like me.

She pushed her toes further into the warm sand.

Tiny flecks of gold shimmered in the sunlight, and the salt tang of the nearby waves drifted past her as they crashed down in a never-ending dance. It had been nicknamed the Cauldron and was one of the quieter beaches thanks to the strong rips that made it unsafe to swim in. The only access was by a rocky cliff, and when the tide was high most of the golden sand was swallowed up by choppy waves.

She liked that it was private, and the landscape was forever changing, depending on the tide and the weather.

A gust of wind swept past, and her legs pricked as tiny flakes of sand whipped around her skin. Ouch. She skipped in pain as another gust dragged at the hem of her work dress. She dropped her sneakers and clutched at the fabric before it could flip up. There might only be a handful of other people there, but she didn’t want to flash them.

“That was close,” a voice said.

Jackson?

His jeans were rolled up, and there was no sign of his jacket or boots. A leather satchel was slung over his shoulder, and his mouth was curved in a smile.

“You’re at the beach,” she said before she could stop herself. Apart from the doomed trip to Hammer Point last week, she’d never seen him outside of school or the confines of Rosie. And while she hadn’t given much thought to what he did when he wasn’t at work, she hadn’t figured him as a sunshine type of guy.

“So it would appear.” He bent forward to retrieve her shoes before the tide came back in. “Are you worried it might ruin my bad boy reputation?”

“Absolutely. The only thing more fatal would be if you were seen eating an ice cream cone and skipping. Or humming. Definitely no humming.” She took the shoes, her fingers brushing his. A spark ran up her arm, and she shivered.

“I did read that in the handbook,” he said, not seeming to notice her reaction. Good. It would be best if she didn’t notice it either.

Now, if only she could figure out how.

Problem was she’d become more and more fixated on just about everything he did.

From the way he washed dishes, through to how he always leaned in when Mrs. Willis and his other elderly groupies were speaking. Like he really cared what they were saying. And the way his arm muscles rippled when he took down the awning at the end of the day.

That part she really liked.

He coughed. “You okay? You’ve got that far-off look going on.”

Crap.

“Er, just trying to remember if I locked Rosie up.”

“I’ve seen you work through a three-part plan just to open a new carton of milk. I’m sure you did,” he said before narrowing his eyes. At work they always seemed darker, more serious. But now they were light, like the sky.

And I’m doing it again.

“You’re probably right,” she said, her voice far too breathy. “S-so why are you here?”

“I just like coming here sometimes. It’s not as busy as the main beaches.”

“I know what you mean.” Another soft blast of wind swirled up. The sky that’d been shimmering blue was now the color of concrete with streaks of black running through it.

“Looks like it’s going to rain. We should get out of here. Don’t want you getting sick for Summerfest tomorrow.”

“What?” She blinked. She hadn’t exactly forgotten about it, but she’d been doing her best to pretend she’d never bought the dumb tickets. Which was probably why she hadn’t sold them. It would interfere with her denial process. “Oh…that.”

He let out a soft whistle. “You’re not going?”

That would be one hundred percent no. Via had seen on social media that Aaron would be there. With a much better access pass than the ones she’d been able to afford.

And when had Jackson become so good at reading her?

“There’s nothing sadder than going to a concert on your own,” she said in defense.

“There’s nothing sadder than wasting good tickets,” he corrected. “You should still go.”

“I don’t think so.” She studied her hands. If she went to Summerfest, it would just remind her of how much she’d misjudged Aaron and Jackson. “Hey, you can have the tickets if you want. Go with one of your friends.”

“My friends?” He raised a disappointed eyebrow. “Seriously? I thought you knew me better than that by now.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Loner. I forgot you don’t play well with others,” she said as another gust of wind swooped up around them. A splash of water hit her arm, and a rumble of thunder sounded out. More rain pounded her skin, and in seconds she was drenched. Water ran in rivulets down her face, soaking her dress and leaving it plastered against her skin.

Another blast of lightning broke the darkening sky as the sea churned in response. It was like some kind of primal battle scene. An explosion of thunder ripped through the sky. Frankie jumped and her skin prickled.

Summer storms always creeped her out.

“Come on.” He turned toward the rocky path. The beach was emptying out, and she increased her speed. With his long legs, he could have outrun her, but he kept pace with her as they clambered up the path, uneven pebbles jabbing at her bare feet, while the shrubby branches that grew out of crevices caught at her legs.

Her wet hair had escaped from her hairband and was whipping across her eyes by the time they reached the parking lot.

“My car’s just over here,” Jackson said. The heat of the day had gone, and cool wind chilled her dripping body. Her lips tasted of salt.

“I can’t get in,” she protested. “I’m soaking.”

“One of the advantages of having a piece of junk for a car,” he pointed out. “Come on.”

“Okay.” She reluctantly followed him and waited until he unlocked the passenger door before climbing in. He strode around to the other side and joined her.

The rain pounded against the steel roof, sounding more like nails than water. And the windows started to steam from all the moisture clinging to them. But without the roaring wind, it was like stepping off a rollercoaster back onto solid ground. Disconcerting.

She pushed back the strands of her hair that clung to her face. She was soaked.

Next to her, Jackson leaned over to the backseat and retrieved a purple towel with teddy bears on it. He passed it to her. “Here. Use this.”

“What about you?”

“I have my manly image to keep me dry,” he said. “Besides, I know your hair doesn’t play well with water.”

“I must have sounded like such a princess. All because I wanted my date with Aaron to be perfect. Look where that got me.” Frankie used the towel to soak up some of the rain.

“You didn’t know Lo would get engaged, and as for Aaron, well, you figured it out soon enough.”

“Yup. I’m sharp as a tack. All he had to do was kiss another girl in front of me before I got the message.” She tugged out her hairband so she could squeeze the worst of the water out of her hair. It would go curly, but she didn’t care. She passed him the towel. “In case your manly image is secretly sick of being waterlogged.”

He took it from her, his hand grazing hers. Her breath quickened, and she realized how close they were. Kissing distance.

The rain pelting down around them faded, as did the rolls of thunder and flashes of jagged lightning.

He returned her gaze, water clinging to his lashes. His T-shirt was soaked, outlining his chest. Suddenly she couldn’t even remember why she’d ever wanted to kiss Aaron. There was only one guy she wanted to kiss right now.

If she reached out, she could touch his face. And if he moved closer, their lips would meet. His mouth was beautiful. He was beautiful. She inched forward. The air around them filled with an invisible magnet. Like it was trying to bring them together. She hitched in a breath as his gaze caught hers.

Was this really happening? Because—

“Frankie,” he said hoarsely as something rippled across his face. Then he widened his eyes and pulled back, as if trying to shake off a spell. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She blinked and followed his gaze down to her leg. The skirt of her dress was ripped, and just above her knee was a three-inch cut that was blossoming with bright red blood. Without hesitating, he pressed the soaking purple towel against it. As if on cue, the cut began to throb. “I didn’t even feel it happening.”

His mouth was set in a grim line. As if he was somehow blaming himself. “There was a lot going on. It doesn’t look deep, but it still needs to be cleaned up.” He paused and looked down. “My place is closer.”

“Y-your place? I’m sure it’s okay. I can just catch the bus home.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You think I’m going to let you catch the bus home? Frankie, you’re soaking wet, and you’re covered in blood. Even if I drive you, it’s over half an hour, and that’s assuming we don’t hit Saturday afternoon traffic. I know Lo’s cool, but she might freak out if you walk in looking like a zombie apocalypse survivor.”

She swallowed. He was right. Lo would be worried if she turned up dripping wet and covered in blood. A perfect mood buster for the upcoming engagement party.

“What about your mom and Chelsea? I’m sure they don’t want me invading their space.”

“They’re out of town. Once a month they stay with Naomi. She’s Chelsea’s paternal grandmother, and while her son was a loser, Naomi’s cool,” he said, then his face tightened. “But if you’d rather not—”

Understanding hit her.

The casual indifference in his voice had been because he was worried she’d judge him. Just like everyone else did. But that was only because they didn’t know who he really was. Didn’t see how sweet he was with his kid sister. How hard he worked to help his mom out. How quick he was to offer to help her.

How gorgeous he looked with his hair plastered to his face.

She returned his gaze. “Okay. That’d be great.”

xxxx

Jackson had done a lot of dumb things in his life but inviting someone like Frankie Hargreaves to the crappy apartment in the Boards had to be at the top of the list. What had he been thinking?

But he knew the answer to that.

He hadn’t been.

She was cold, wet, and bleeding. And she’d obviously gone to the beach to lick her wounds about tomorrow’s concert. The one all her plans had been centered around. He knew better than anyone just how much that kind of disappointment could sting. So he’d opened his mouth, and the words had come out before he could stop them.

And now here they were.

He thrust his key into the door and twisted.

“Home sweet home,” he said in a tight voice as they stepped inside.

He’d always known the place was a dump. From the mustard-colored carpet through to the mismatched furniture. It was nothing like Lo’s neat bungalow with the well-kept grass and the matching curtains. Everything there was warm. Loved. Permanent. Everything here was—

“Thanks.” Frankie didn’t seem to notice how small it was. Or that Chelsea’s toys were scattered across the sofa. Unless she was just being polite. He led her to a kitchen stool and stalked to the first aid kit.

When Chelsea was two, she’d knocked over a cup of hot coffee and scalded her arm. The trip to the hospital had been the worst of his life. And while the burns had completely healed, he and his mom had done a first aid course in case there was a next time.

He put it on the counter and grabbed some old clean towels they kept around for when the faucets leaked. The ripped fabric of her skirt had fallen to one side. He didn’t focus on the long expanse of leg, just on what needed to be done.

The bleeding had stopped, and the cut wasn’t nearly as deep as he’d feared. It wouldn’t need stitches. He used one of the old towels to dry her leg and then set about cleaning and dressing it.

She didn’t say a word.

When it was done, he stepped away. “I think I’ve managed to save the leg.”

It broke the tension, and some of the color returned to her face. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You might want to get it checked properly when you get home. Is it still hurting?”

“No. I think it was just the shock of seeing it,” she said as she glanced down at the mess on the ground. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“I thought we were friends. You don’t need to say sorry,” he said. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

She swallowed but didn’t protest. “Okay. I guess I should call Lo and get her to pick me up.”

“I don’t mind taking you,” he said, then looked at her ruined dress. “I have some clean sweats if you want to get changed. They might be too big, but—”

“Is this about the zombie apocalypse thing again?” she said, sounding more and more like her usual self. “Because I have to tell you, it’s not what a girl likes to hear.”

“I was going to say it might stop you from catching a cold,” he said. “Really it’s self-interest. If you get sick, I’ll be stuck with Kenneth.”

There was another burst of laughter. “You make a good argument.” She shakily got to her feet. Then she tested her leg and nodded. “Okay, that would be great if I could borrow some clothes.”

“Sure.” He went to collect a fresh towel and clean sweats along with a bag to put her ruined dress in, before directing her to the small bathroom.

No good could come from him imagining Frankie getting changed. He quickly made his way back into the main living area and packed away the first aid kit.

Once he was done, he filled up the coffee machine and set it to brew and herded up as many of Chelsea’s toys as he could find.

It didn’t really improve anything, but it was the best he could do. Then he went into his bedroom and dragged off his soaking clothes. He’d get a shower later. When it was safe. In the meantime, he just shrugged on the nearest T-shirt. Feeling more like a regular guy and less like a drowned rat, he headed back out just as Frankie emerged from the bathroom.

Oh, boy.

His sweats hung off her, leaving her buried inside them. But it was no good. He could still see where every soft curve was. He swallowed. She’d towel dried her hair, and it was hanging down her back in loose golden curls. Her pale blue eyes were bright against her dark lashes. She’d rolled up the legs of the sweatpants, and her bare tanned feet poked out the bottom.

Stop staring at her.

“Want a coffee before we go?” He walked into the small open kitchen, relieved to put some space between them.

“Sure.” She glanced around and then wrinkled her nose. “You know you didn’t need to tidy up for me. Unless you’re worried I might take one of Chelsea’s unicorn toys.”

“It was for your own safety. They multiply at night, which means there’s no telling what else they might do. It could get messy, and you’ve already had a tough day,” he said and then rubbed his jaw. “Sorry about this place. It’s probably not what you’re used to.”

He slid over a cup of coffee, and she wrapped her hands around it. When she looked back up her brow was knitted together.

“I didn’t always live with Lo, you know.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I heard your mom died,” he said, and then wanted to kick himself for bringing her mom into the conversation. He really was on a winner today.

“She left Cricket Bay when I was a baby and moved to Los Angeles. In eight years, we lived in twenty different apartments. And not the kind you write home about.” She looked down and studied the counter. When she lifted her head, her eyes were clear. “I get it. I know what it’s like, but I also know it’s not about the place, it’s about the people. Look at Aaron. He might live in a mansion, but…” She trailed off.

He put down his coffee. He’d never given it much thought. Just focused on the fact they didn’t have much. Rather than looking at what they did have. He returned her gaze.

“You’re smart.”

“I like to think so,” she said.

“And so modest.” He grinned as she took a sip of coffee and glanced around the apartment. Then she walked over to the sofa and stared at the wall. His mom had put some of his larger sketches there.

She stopped at one of the Cauldron, where they’d just been. He’d spent months drawing it over and over again, in all kinds of light, trying to capture the battle between water and land that raged every day. And while he’d been ultimately pleased with it, it wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone else. Hell.

“Hey. It’s my beach.”

“Yours?”

“Okay, it’s not technically my beach, but I’ve always loved it. I go there to think.”

“That’s why you were there today?” His skin prickled, and something shifted in his chest. All this time they’d been going to the same retreat and never known it. The room grew warm, and it was hard to remember they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. Yet somehow things kept joining them together. Things that mattered.

He slowly walked over to her.

“Yeah. It helps me make sense of the world,” she said, still staring at the rolling waves. “Whoever drew this really captured it. How the sky falls into the sea when you sit on that rock and stare at it.” She leaned closer, and her eyes seemed to narrow in on the signature in the corner. “Wait. This is yours?”

She spun back around, her lips parted.

When he didn’t answer, she moved to the next one. It was of a tree at the back of the school grounds. It had taken him a couple of weeks, and he still wasn’t pleased with the shading.

Then she walked up to him, tilting her head, as if trying to understand him. “Jackson. These are amazing. My mind is blown. Why didn’t you say you were into art?”

“Weirdly enough, it’s not a great conversation starter.” He shrugged, heat moving to his face. This wasn’t what he wanted. This sharing. This feeling like she understood who he was and what he was trying to say. Hell. He didn’t even understand it half the time. That’s why he sketched, to get things out of his head. Things he didn’t have words for. “Besides, it’s no big deal. Lots of people draw.”

“Not like this they don’t.” Her voice was firm before she let out a gasp. “The sketch of Rosie that I found. That was you! Why didn’t you tell me? Do you have any idea how many people have commented on it?”

Unfortunately, yes. And each time it was deeply uncomfortable.

“Frankie, it’s no big deal. I don’t really draw for other people to see. It’s just my own thing.”

“Are you saying I can’t boast about you at work?” Her face dropped, then her dimple appeared. “Don’t worry, it will be yet another secret I keep about the mysterious Jackson Lang.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem.” She crossed over to the bookshelf. It was mainly filled with paperbacks, but there were a couple of framed sketches he’d done of his mom and his sister. She picked them up. “I just can’t get over how amazing these are. This is Chelsea to a T. Even how her mouth tilts when she grins.”

“You have no idea how hard it was to get her to sit still,” he admitted, the tension in his shoulders easing.

He’d just assumed that nothing could happen between them because they were from two different worlds. There was a line between them that couldn’t be crossed. But now he wasn’t sure.

Are we so different?

He’d assumed she’d always lived in a nice house with plenty of cash. But it wasn’t true. She knew what it was like to be in a bad area, in a crappy apartment, with no money. And she seemed to think it wasn’t the end of the world.

She moved to his sketchpad that was sitting by the television. It was open at the mermaid statue he’d been working on. When she turned, her eyes were gleaming.

“It reminds me of you, and how you see the world.”

“You get all that from some pencil lines?” he said, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Sure. You’re always far away from what you’re drawing. Like you’re an outsider, and there’s no color. I mean, black and white’s kind of your thing, right?”

It was?

“Not sure I follow.”

“Your clothes.” She nodded at him. “You always wear plain T-shirts and jeans. The only time I’ve seen you in a color is when you put on an apron.”

“I never really thought about it before. I don’t care much about clothes. I guess plain just seems easier.”

“I’m not complaining,” Frankie said as she glanced around. “Do you have any more I could look at?”

He stiffened. Sketchpads were stacked up in his bedroom. Including a couple of drawings he’d done of Frankie, trying to catch the way the light hit her face when she laughed.

Probably not such a great idea to let her see them.

“Nothing much,” he said.

It seemed to satisfy her, and she drifted back to the kitchen counter and sat down on a stool. The sleeves of the sweatshirt had fallen down over her wrists, and she pushed them back up. Her hair was still damp, and several curls clung to her skin. She peered up at him through her lashes.

“So, the question is, what are you going to do with this amazing talent of yours? Will you go to art school?”

Art school?

He doubted he’d even be going to community college.

Chelsea was only six, and as she grew, so would the bills. He’d finish senior year then get a job. Assuming anyone would hire him.

It was a depressing thought, and he swallowed it down.

“I don’t know. I’m not one for making plans,” he admitted, sitting on the stool next to her. She twisted toward him, her knees almost touching his. This was dangerous. Very dangerous.

“Not make plans? What is this madness you speak of?”

“I guess I just figure if I don’t make plans then I won’t be disappointed,” he said, his eyes locked with hers.

“That’s kind of sad. What if there’s something you really want?” She leaned forward, her mouth slightly parted. She was so close he could count the tiny freckles across her nose.

“I guess I haven’t wanted anything that much before,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lie. There was something he really wanted. Something I have no right to want. He quickly stood up and reached for his keys. “I should drive you home now.”

“S-sure,” she said as disappointment flashed across her face. Then her lips curved into a smile that did wicked things to his pulse. “Jackson, do you want to go to Summerfest with me?”

She was inviting him out?

To spend the day with her?

He should say no. Of course he should. There were hundreds of reasons why spending more time with her was a bad idea. The worst. It was a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Because if he did step into her world and things got messed up, everything would be ruined. And what if she was just rebounding from Aaron?

But all he could remember was how much he liked her. How hard she worked, how fierce she was, how she’d survived just as much as he had.

How much I want to kiss her.

“I’d like that,” he said as he stepped back toward her. Two dimples peeked out from her cheeks. “I’d like that a lot.”

There. He’d done it. There was no going back now.

8

“Okay, you’re going to have to talk me through this.” Lo put down her glass as a Cheshire Cat-type smile spread across her mouth. It was a long-held Sunday morning tradition to sit around the diner-style booth in the kitchen, catching up on the week and eating waffles and bacon. She always looked forward to it.

Today not so much.

Last night, Lo had inspected the cut on Frankie’s leg three times before being satisfied it wasn’t serious. There had been more than a few questions as to why she was at the beach and how she’d ended up at Jackson’s apartment. Which was why she hadn’t told her aunt about her new Summerfest plans until a couple of minutes ago. To avoid getting the third degree.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yes, I do believe I am.” Her aunt beamed as Johnny brought a towering plate of waffles over to the table and planted a kiss on Lo’s immaculate beehive.

“She’s got a point, Frank.” Johnny returned with the bacon. She held up her hands in defeat.

“Fine. Lo and Johnny,” she said in a mock serious voice. “Jackson and I are going to Summerfest together.”

“That’s the part I’m still not clear on. Last thing I knew you were crushing on Aaron Tremain,” Lo said in an innocent voice that was somewhat ruined by the way she fluttered her mascaraed lashes.

Heat traveled up Frankie’s neck.

Technically Lo was right. But in her defense that was seven days ago. It seemed like a lifetime. Her stomach turned at the idea of kissing Aaron. He might have looked good on paper, but there was nothing good about him in real life. He was petty and vindictive. Jackson was neither of those things. He was kind and sweet. And his artwork. The image of him sitting for hours drawing and sketching left her short of breath.

And we both love the Cauldron.

“Aaron wasn’t the guy I thought he was. And Jackson’s been really great. I figured it would be fun to go together. As friends.”

Frankie snagged the top waffle. Delicate crystals of baker’s sugar fell as she transferred it to her plate and drenched it with maple syrup. Hello, sweet sugar.

It was almost as saccharine as the lie she kept telling herself. Because sure, he might just think they were friends, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Twice she’d thought they were going to kiss.

Hoped they were.

The first time in his car, her leg had been bleeding, and then in his kitchen he’d pulled away. But it hadn’t stopped her from wishing it had been different. And so she’d done what any regular sixteen-year-old girl with a full-blown crush and two tickets to a concert would do. She’d invited him along.

It was her litmus test. To see if he liked her.

There was still a chance he might have just agreed out of pity.

After all, she’d been wearing his sweats, was covered in salt, and he’d just seen her blood-drenched leg. But she couldn’t shake the feeling there might be something between them. What if he had felt it too? And even more amazing was that it wasn’t like she’d planned any of it.

Yet, despite the cut on her leg, it had been so much more fun just spending time with him than it had ever been with Aaron.

Her stomach fluttered, and she pushed away her plate.

“No one’s arguing with you,” Johnny assured her as he loaded Lo’s plate before doing the same to his own. “So…do you and your friend need a lift there?”

“No. He’s picking me up. And please don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re just teasing. We’ll be on our best behavior. Scout’s honor.” Lo drizzled her own breakfast in maple syrup. Frankie was pretty sure her aunt wouldn’t know what a scout looked like if she fell over one, but all the same she gave her a grateful smile.

Lo might tease her, but it was always in good humor, and she never took it too far.

“Thank you. And I swear I’ll help with the party stuff this week,” she said.

“You think you’re the only one who can plan in this family?” Lo raised an eyebrow. “We got everything finished last night. Maggie’s doing the catering, and Big Ted’s in charge of the music. The theme is Fifties Luau. All that’s left is for me to look like a radiant thing of beauty and wonder.”

“That won’t be hard.” Johnny planted a kiss on her aunt’s cheek. Lo returned the kiss, and Frankie decided it would be a good time to retreat. Besides, Jackson would be there in an hour, and she needed to finish getting ready. Yesterday he’d seen her at her worst. Today she was going to make sure he saw her at her best.

The weather report confirmed there’d be no more rain, but after yesterday there was a good chance the outdoor concert would be muddy, which was why she’d teamed up her white denim skirt with a pair of polka-dot rubber boots and a soft pink button-up with her silver bikini top underneath.

Hopefully it was concert chic.

She was finished with ten minutes to spare and checked her phone. She’d called Via last night, but there’d been no reply, so she’d sent a text. And then ten more, because…well…she had to tell someone about what had happened with Jackson yesterday. About the fact they were going to Summerfest.

Except Via hadn’t called back, which wasn’t like her at all. A flash of guilt went through her. Frankie had been so caught up in her own drama that she hadn’t really paid much attention to what her friend was up to. She sent her another text, this time to check Via was okay. Then she tucked her phone into her purse and went downstairs to wait.

xxxx

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go inside and say hello?” Jackson said as Frankie scrambled into his car. Despite how wet they’d been yesterday, the interior was dry and filled with an earthy cinnamon scent.

“Definitely not.” She shook her head and clipped on the seatbelt. She’d sent him a text asking him to wait in the car in case Lo and Johnny got any funny ideas into their heads. Then she groaned as they both appeared at the window, smiling and waving their hands with a practiced twist of their wrists. “Besides, they’ve come to us. Wave.”

“Er, sure.” He held up his hand and tilted his head. “Is this weird?”

“The part about my aunt and her fiancé pretending they’re in a presidential parade? Yes, very. Us going to Summerfest together? Well…I don’t think it’s weird. Do you?”

“Only every second,” he admitted as he gave Lo and Johnny one final nod and pulled away from the curb. “You look great, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a shy smile and clasped at her purse. Lo had insisted she take a cap, water bottle, and emergency cash. And okay, fine. There were also two tubes of lip gloss in case she lost one. Part of being a planner was always being prepared.

Even if she wasn’t quite sure what she was being prepared for.

Liar.

He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, though his hair wasn’t greased back, and the usual stubble was gone. He’d shaved. The now familiar scent of pine clung to him. Her heart hammered, and she dragged her gaze away from his hands as they rested on the steering wheel.

Okay. It was a little bit weird. But hopefully in a good way.

xxxx

“You sure your leg isn’t hurting?” Jackson double-checked as they joined the long line of people walking from the dirt parking lot through to the main gates. Summerfest was on a patch of the peninsula that had once been farmland. It had grown over time and there were two stages, as well as a catering village, and a few VIP hospitality tents. There was a mixture of people, from eight to eighty, all joining the line heading to the wire gates that had been set up around the perimeter.

“Now you’re sounding like Lo,” Frankie said as her rain boots squelched in the mud that had been left behind from yesterday’s rain. Her skirt covered the cut on her thigh, but still showed off her acres of legs. He swallowed.

“Just checking you’re ready for all the mosh pit action,” he said as they reached the front of the line. Their tickets were inspected along with their bags, and then they were given blue wristbands before being ushered in.

“Bring it on,” she said as a wave of drumbeats greeted them from one of the stages. Her eyes sparkled when it was followed by a thumping guitar. She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go explore.”

He nodded, and they headed toward the smaller of the stages where the sound was coming from. Adrenaline surged through him as they joined the crowd and the music flooded over them. Next to him, Frankie was already jumping up and down. Everyone around them was dancing. He wanted to move, but his limbs stayed still.

Being in crowds like this wasn’t his thing.

Frankie nudged him with her shoulder. Her hair tickled his face as she jumped. His discomfort lessened. What was it about her that made things seem possible? She nudged him a second time, and the music seeped into his limbs as he began to sway. Then he grinned and nudged her back.

After all, when in Rome…

Five hours later the Waves did their final encore and left the stage. The late afternoon sun was still pounding down as people continued to jump and scream. Frankie nodded to a grove of trees. Families and older folks had set up chairs and picnic rugs to enjoy the all-day music in comfort.

They squeezed their way through the crowd and stopped at a vendor to grab some bottled water and fries before tracking to the edge of the grove. It hadn’t been trampled by thousands of feet, and the grass was dry and mud-free.

Frankie dropped her purse and sat on it just to be sure. Her hair had long escaped the ponytail she usually wore and was hanging over her shoulder. Her cheeks were pink and lips full.

She seemed happy.

“That was amazing.” She took a gulp of water and leaned against the tree, her suntanned legs on display.

“Sure was,” he agreed, turning his face up to the sky. When he looked back, she was studying him. “Please don’t tell me you want to storm another stage?”

“I’m still recovering. But I was thinking that you’re great to hang out with,” she said.

“I’m glad I make a good substitute for Via,” he said. “Though I probably need to work a bit on checking out guys with you.”

“You think that’s all we do when we go out?” She arched an eyebrow, and he held up his hands.

“I retract that statement. I have no idea what you do.”

“Thank you,” she said in a prim voice before letting out a stifled gasp. “No way!”

He turned to follow her gaze. It was Aaron Tremain. He was walking over to one of the VIP tents with his arm looped over someone who definitely wasn’t Melissa. He really was having quite the summer. Once Aaron and his mystery girl disappeared, Jackson turned back to Frankie.

“You okay?”

She might say she was over Aaron, but that didn’t mean she was. Some of the adrenaline that had been charging through him faded away. Leaving him…disappointed?

“Better than Aaron’s about to be.” She glanced back to the tent where Melissa was storming in. Her hair flying out behind her. If it had been a cartoon, there would have been smoke coming out from her ears. “What was he thinking?”

Jackson was sure Aaron wasn’t thinking.

Or that he just assumed he’d get away with it.

“No idea.” He picked up a stick and broke it in half. “We can go if you want.”

“Go?” Her voice sharpened, like she was surprised. Then she let out a groan. “Oh…you think I’m freaked out by seeing him?”

“It might have crossed my mind,” he admitted.

Her cheeks reddened, and her mouth parted. Hell, she was gorgeous. His fingers twitched to sketch her. To catch the way she tilted her head when she listened to people speaking. How she toyed with her hair when she was uncertain. The curve of her mouth when she smiled.

“I honestly couldn’t care less about Aaron. I don’t think I ever did. I never really knew him. I mean, on paper he seemed great, but in reality, well…he was nothing like I thought. Turns out real crushes come when you know someone.”

His throat was dry, and the noise from the stage faded away to nothing.

What was she saying? That she had a crush on someone else?

Or am I just hearing what I want to hear?

Silence danced, and the space between them blurred.

Since he’d met her, there’d been a line between them. One that couldn’t be crossed. Shouldn’t be crossed. But he couldn’t remember why. And if it was meant to be there, why did it feel like if he moved, it would dissolve altogether?

He forced himself to remain still as his fingers curled around the satchel at his side. Last night he’d gone through some of his sketches of the Cauldron and picked one out as a thank-you present. Except who the hell gave thank-you presents? It was a stupid idea. One only an idiot would do.

Before he could stop himself, he unfastened the buckles and retrieved it. Then he caught his breath and handed it over.

“I…I thought you might like this.”

Apparently, I’m an idiot.

“You got me something?” She wrinkled her brow and took the piece of paper. Then color hit her cheeks, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Did that mean she liked it? He shut his eyes, not sure he wanted to know the answer. He never showed his work to anyone. Never gave it to anyone. Because you’ve never met anyone who even gives a damn about it. Blood pounded in his temples. Had he just done the dumbest thing in his life?

He finally looked at her. She was carefully tracing her finger over it.

“Now who’s giving grand gestures?” she said, though the words seemed to catch in her throat. Like they weren’t said lightly.

The tension in his jaw eased. “It’s just a drawing. Hardly grand.”

“It is to me,” she said, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “The reason I go there on my own is because it was my mom’s favorite place. She used to talk about it all the time and had a photo of it by her bed. It helps me remember her.”

Hell.

Guilt filled him. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Nice work, Jackson.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head and gave him a watery smile. “You didn’t. It’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever been given.”

“Oh.” He swallowed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d given it to her. Lie. It was because she seemed to feel the same things he did. But he hadn’t expected it would mean something to her. Not something like this. It was getting hard to breathe around here. “So…what was she like? I keep picturing someone like Lo but with blonder hair.”

She let out a wistful laugh. “She was nothing like her. My mom was older than Lo by a few years, but I guess she was the wild one of the family. She got into a bit of trouble when she was younger, but by the time I was little she’d sorted herself out and started working as a hairdresser. I guess she got her life together. Apart from her choice in guys.”

“Not good?”

“And some.” She bowed her head, still staring at his sketch. “She started dating this guy. Keith. He wasn’t very nice. He owed a lot of people a lot of money and had a reputation as—” She broke off, color hitting her cheeks.

“A bad boy?” Jackson said, and she nodded.

“Yeah. One day he cleared out my mom’s account and did a runner. It was hard after that, and it wasn’t until later that I discovered she’d been forced to cut our health insurance. Which was why she’d ignored the chest pains she was having. She just thought it was indigestion.”

Pain rippled over her face, and Jackson sucked in a breath. For the longest time it had just been him and his mom. And while things had been tough, at least she’d been there.

What could he even say to that?

Nothing. Because it wasn’t something that was fixable with words. Or anything. He reached for her hand and lightly touched her fingers. Heat zapped up his arm, and she jerked in response but didn’t take her hand away.

“Frankie. I’m sorry that happened. It sucks.”

“It really does,” she agreed before licking her lips and taking a shuddering breath. “That’s why I wasn’t that nice when we first met. It wasn’t really about you.”

“I get it,” he said as her fingers tightened around his. Strawberry and vanilla caught in his nose, shutting out the world around them.

“I know,” she said, and heat burst up in the space between them. Like someone had blasted the thermostat. “That’s why I like you so much.”

Her fingers were warm in his, sending little darts of fire all through him. She likes me?

He shifted. Tiny flecks of black danced in her blue eyes, and her mouth was soft. And suddenly he was sick of fighting his instincts.

His mouth brushed hers.

She let out a tiny sigh, and her lips parted as his other hand found hers. Her skin was soft and warm. Longing ran through his veins as he deepened the kiss. When she pulled away, her entire face was flushed, and her mouth was swollen.

“I should tell guys I like them more often,” she said, her hands still in his. Her fingers were slim, long, and brown, with slight calluses from working in Rosie for the last two weeks. He swallowed.

“Frankie—” he started to say, but she shook her head.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t date. And I’m not trying to make you change your mind. I just, well…I guess I just wanted to have the perfect first kiss, and I did.”

It was her first kiss?

Of course. That’s why she’d been planning everything with Aaron so carefully. To make it just right. Probably nowhere in her plans was to start crying over her dead mom. Before kissing me.

But she said it was perfect.

“You know what’s better than a first kiss?” The words came out a growl.

“What?” She hitched in her breath, and he leaned in. She was smiling, and their noses touched. It made her giggle, and she inched closer to him as she returned the kiss. “Good call,” she managed to say when she pulled away.

“I thought so,” he murmured as he disengaged his hand and began to trace patterns up her arm. “About the dating thing. Could we just forget I ever said that?”

“W-what do you mean?” she croaked.

“I mean I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“You would?”

“I would,” he said, heart pounding in his ears. “We could go bowling. Unless you don’t like bowling.”

“I love bowling,” she said, inching closer to him. His arms wrapped around her, and his mouth found hers. This time when they broke away, she pressed her head into his chest, as if checking for a heartbeat. It was like she belonged there. Then she peered up, the dimple appearing. “Which, by the way, is me saying yes. I’d like to go on a date with you, Jackson Lang.”

“Okay, then,” he said, not daring to move. Heat jumped between them, and he let out a ragged breath. Had that really just happened? But he didn’t need to guess. She shifted next to him, and her hair tickled his nose. Then he looked up toward the sky and grinned.

He’d asked her out.

And more to the point, she’d said yes.

9

“I should have paid more attention when you said you loved bowling,” Jackson said the following night as they handed their shoes back at the counter. “You just wiped the floor with me.”

Yeah, she had.

“Did I forget to mention that Johnny’s been teaching me for the last two years? How weird that it slipped my mind.”

“As a matter of fact, you did forget to mention it,” he agreed.

“My bad,” she said as a group of people walked past. He protectively put his arm around her shoulders, and her stomach fluttered.

She wasn’t going to get sick of this in a hurry.

Not any of it. It still hadn’t sunk in they were out together on a date.

What was even more surreal was just how normal it had been during the day at work. Like there had been a rule in her pink-and-white binder saying whatever was happening between them was strictly after-hours. They were both there to do a job. No kissing in Rosie.

It had made her like him even more.

“You look real sorry,” he said, not moving his arm even after the group had gone.

“I have to have some talents,” she said. “It’s not like I can compete with your mad drawing skills. And when you’re a famous artist I can brag that I beat you.”

“Not sure that will impress many people,” he said in a light voice and then quickly glanced away, as if he wanted to change the subject. She wasn’t surprised. He was so modest when it came to his work. Like he didn’t realize how brilliant he was. “Want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure.” She wasn’t particularly hungry but didn’t really care what they did as long as it didn’t involve saying goodnight. “Should we stay here or go somewhere in town?”

“Last time I came here with Chelsea the burgers tasted like someone’s old shoe. We could try that place down by the square,” he said just as Frankie’s phone blasted out with a Lorde song.

Via’s ringtone.

Finally.

Unlike most of the kids at school, Jackson didn’t permanently have his nose in a phone. She wasn’t even sure if he was on social media, so she’d kept her phone in her purse, determined not to use it.

But the fact she hadn’t heard from her friend was weird bordering on spooky.

“Would you hate me if I quickly take this call? Via’s been off the radar for twenty-four hours. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure that’s not really a rescue code to get you away from the guy who just had his ass handed to him?” There was a lightness to his voice she’d never heard before, and her heart pounded some more.

He was so different from her first impression.

Just went to show what a mistake it had been to judge a book by its cover.

She inwardly groaned at the bad cliché. Lucky he couldn’t read her mind.

“Definitely no code.” She reached out and lightly touched his hand. Fireworks darted up her arm. “I promise.”

He grinned and touched his heart before nodding over to the door. “Take your call. I’ll be outside.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice breathy. She waited until he disappeared before dropping into one of the empty seats that ran along the wall.

“Via, where have you been? I almost thought you were ghosting me,” Frankie said two seconds later. She’d left her friend yet another garbled message this morning, trying to explain what had happened at the concert yesterday.

“I don’t check my phone for one lousy day, and you go to Summerfest with Jackson Lang? And kiss him?” Via squealed in reply.

“Yes to all the above.” She filled in all the details about what had happened. Including her bowling victory. “I still have to pinch myself.”

“And I still have to do my victory lap. I told you he was hot.”

Frankie wrinkled her nose. “Okay, you were right. I can’t wait until you’re home. You’ll really like him.”

“I already do,” Via said. “And that drawing he gave you? It’s so romantic.”

“I know.” Frankie let out another happy sigh. Along with last night’s voice message, she’d sent Via a photo of the sketch of the Cauldron. “If I could draw like that, I’d be telling the world.”

“I like that he’s private,” Via said in a firm voice. “It’s better than being one of those know-it-all idiots who like to tell the entire world their business.”

Frankie blinked and dragged her mind away from the Jackson-induced haze she’d been living in since yesterday.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Sure it is,” Via said in an overly bright voice. Somewhere in the background was the rustle of leaves. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Er, I don’t know. But you’re sounding weird.”

“No, you’re sounding weird,” Via countered, followed by another rustle of leaves.

Leaves?

“Via, where are you?”

Her friend let out a sigh. “Fine. I’m up a tree.”

“You’re up a tree? I don’t understand. Trees are full of nature, and you’re scared of heights. What could possibly make you do it?”

“It’s a long story…actually, no it’s not. Hudson’s here.”

“Hudson Trent?” Frankie’s phone almost fell from her hands. “As in your archenemy?”

“The one and only.”

No wonder her friend had been acting strangely. The pair had hated each other since Via’s eighth-grade science fair project had gone terribly wrong. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Hudson hadn’t thrown a jug of water over her while she was wearing a white T-shirt, which pretty much went transparent and showed the entire class her bra, complete with tiny kittens on it.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Same reason you didn’t sell your Summerfest tickets. Denial. I’ve also been busy hiding. So far I’ve missed a family picnic and two afternoon swimming races. He hasn’t seen me once. I only have to survive seven more days and I’m in the clear. I think I’ve found my superpower.”

“But from what you said, Camp Doom is tiny. Not much bigger than a playing field.”

“Hence why it’s my superpower,” Via said as the rustling noise increased.

“Via, this is crazy. You need to get out of that tree. What if you fall?”

“Please, I’m not going to fall. I have science on my side. Don’t worry. I have everything under control. Enjoy your date and I’ll call you tomorrow. Crap. I’ve just spotted him. I’ve got to go.”

“But—”

Via was gone.

Frankie stared at the phone. No one ever ruffled her friend’s feathers. Nobody but Hudson.

She put on some more lip gloss and left the bowling alley. Jackson was leaning against the wall, sketching in a small notebook. The sinking sun left him half in shadows, but when he looked at her, the light hit his face and she grinned.

We’re on a date.

He thrust the notebook back into his jacket pocket and returned her smile. The fact he was as happy as she was sent a blast of warmth through her.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said as she reached him. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Well, not exactly. I think Via’s having a crisis. She was hiding up a tree.”

“A tree?” He raised an eyebrow as they walked across the parking lot. His arm grazed hers and more warmth flooded her. “Didn’t you say she hates nature?”

“With a passion,” Frankie agreed, just as voices drifted over, joined by a low thump of a bass line coming from a car stereo. A few bays down, a truck was parked, with some kids she vaguely recognized from school.

There was an excited squeal, and a blur of red hair raced toward them.

“Hell.” Jackson swore softly under his breath as the blur came to a halt. It was Tania Wise.

She was wearing leather pants and a halter top and looked like she could get into a club if she wanted to.

“You’re here! Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Tania swayed. Her green eyes were fixed directly on him, ignoring Frankie completely.

“Because I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Jackson’s voice was glacial, and his face was a granite mask. Just like he’d worn when Frankie had first met him. “You’re drunk. Go home, Tania.”

“Night’s young. Don’t you want to know why I was calling?”

“No.” His jaw was clenched.

All the happiness of the bowling was gone. The joking banter. The softness in his eyes. Frankie’s throat tightened.

“Don’t be a fool, J. Take the job. And you could also…” She trailed off, her lips all glossy.

“Not going to happen.” Jackson ground the words out like a sledgehammer. Tania’s face tightened, and she swung toward Frankie, eyes narrow.

“Enjoy it while you can. Because when he’s done, he’ll just cut and run. Bail on you.”

Bail?

Frankie stiffened as Jackson’s voice broke into a primal growl.

“Tania—”

“Don’t bother, J.” She held up a manicured nail, red hair trailing over her shoulders. “What I don’t get is why you keep trying to fight who you are? You’re playing uptown boy, but we all know the truth.”

An engine revved, and a guy with a sleeve of tattoos stood up on the back of the truck. “Come on, we’re going. Now.”

She gave Jackson one last lingering gaze and then walked back to the truck, swaying as she went. A moment later the truck disappeared from the parking lot. The throbbing bass seemed to linger, and Jackson was still standing there. Frozen.

Silence dragged out between them, and Frankie’s stomach churned. “Is that true? You left her? I thought from what you said that the breakup was mutual.”

He shut his eyes and was silent.

It was true.

Jackson had glossed over the split like it was no big deal.

When he’s done, he’ll just cut and run. Bail on you.

“It’s complicated,” he said slowly, as if trying to measure his words. His chest rose and fell. “Her dad and mine were friends. Close friends. I’ve known Tania since we were kids. And…I thought she was different.” More silence. “After we were dating for a couple of months her dad took me to one side and wanted me to start selling for him.”

“Selling what?”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Drugs, Frankie. I said no and quit. I thought Tania and I were still solid. I didn’t want to be the jerk guy who accused her dad of being a dealer, so I kept my mouth shut. It never occurred to me she knew. But turned out she didn’t see what the fuss was. So, yeah. I did bail and avoided going anywhere she might be. I still do.”

There had been a reason. Then guilt wound through her that she’d doubted him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She tried to meet his gaze, but he was still looking down at the ground.

“Because that’s not the kind of person I want to be.” He was unmoving. Cold, as if he’d been hit by a sudden ice storm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, that you had to see that part of my life.”

Pain flashed in his eyes, and she reached for his hand. His skin was rough but warm, and his fingers tightened around hers in response.

“You don’t need to explain it. I know who you are, Jackson,” she said, and he finally let out a shuddering breath.

“Thanks. Sorry our date was ruined.”

“Someone told me friends don’t keep apologizing,” she said. He wasn’t who the world thought he was. “Besides, you can make it up on our next date.”

The frozen expression faded. “There’s going to be a next date?”

“I sure hope so. It’s Lo and Johnny’s engagement party this Saturday. I know you haven’t decided if you’re going or not. But, if you did want to come…”

Something flashed across his face, but it was gone before she could even tell what it was. He used his finger to tilt her chin toward him. Butterflies pounded in her belly.

“Are you sure about this, Frankie?”

He was referring to the party, but the weight in his voice suggested it was about more than that. Warmth once again flooded her skin. He was giving her a choice.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

xxxx

“Do you think she will like it?” Chelsea demanded as Jackson shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his car keys. He stopped and studied the latest drawing his sister had done. It was of a stick figure holding a large trophy. He let out a pained groan.

“Did Frankie tell you about her bowling victory?” he demanded in a mock serious tone. “I swear I need to keep you two separated.”

“She said you’d say that.” Chelsea giggled, and he gave her a quick hug while plucking the drawing out of her hands. It had been two days since the run-in with Tania, and Frankie had been amazing.

When they had been faced with Tania, he’d figured for sure they’d be over. And he wouldn’t have blamed her. No one wanted to deal with a drunk ex.

Or the fact he’d lied to her. Well, lied by omission.

And it wasn’t just Tania. It was everyone she’d been hanging out with. Guys with jackets, bad attitudes, and long juvie records. Up until a few weeks ago that’s exactly how Frankie had seen him.

But now?

It was like being given the keys to some secret club he never knew existed.

How the other half lived. How he wanted to live.

“Momma!” Chelsea squealed as their mom appeared from her bedroom, her face gray. She’d been doing double shifts, and it was showing. Guilt caught in his throat. He wasn’t earning nearly as much as he had been on the construction site last year.

“Morning, beautiful. Did Jackson make you breakfast?” she said, though her smile seemed forced. Something was wrong.

“Hey, Chelsea. You want to go and read a story to Miss Sparkles?” he said, and his little sister darted into the other room. Jackson folded his arms. “What’s going on?”

Her mouth tightened as if unsure whether to answer him. Then she let out a sigh. “I got laid off. He said he doesn’t have enough work. Truth is it’s cheaper for him to hire school kids. Especially over the summer.”

“Did he give you any notice?” He kept his voice low so Chelsea wouldn’t hear.

“A week.” She walked past him and poured a cup of coffee. Her hands were shaking, and her shoulders were hunched in defeat. “It’s okay, I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will.” The words were hollow. They both knew the truth. Yes, she’d find another job, but it would probably be even worse than the one she’d lost. Why did they have to keep working so hard, just to keep their heads above water?

“You’re a good son.” She gave him a tired smile and swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

Am I?

Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

He’d spent the last week in a bubble, while his mom was working harder than ever. Not that he’d ever been able to stop her, but he could have tried harder.

Asked Lo for more hours. Taken the construction job?

He pushed down the thought. His mom was the last one who’d want him to go back to that job. She wanted him to be happy. And he was. They’d figure it out. They always did.

xxxx

“Hey.” Frankie’s cheeks were bright as she jogged toward him. She’d already been at Rosie when he’d parked the car, so he’d swung by the coffee cart to make the order. “I was wondering where you got to.”

“Sorry, I got held up.” He paid for the drinks and handed her one.

“I’ll forgive you. The silver lining was you weren’t there to witness me eating one of Lo’s new sherbet cupcakes. She’s testing them out for the engagement party.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. She’d taken to wearing her hair in softer curls that hung down her back, and the wide skirt of her dress swished as she walked along beside him.

She’d never looked more gorgeous.

They’d both agreed to not cross any lines while they were at work, but damn did he want to. His fingers twitched to reach for her hand. To breathe in her scent and forget about everything else.

“Sounds like I missed a massacre,” he said as they reached the little pink-and-white food truck. He followed her in, trying not to notice the sway of her hips.

“It definitely wasn’t pretty.” She took a sip of coffee then frowned. “Is everything okay? Has Tania—”

“No.” He gave a sharp shake of his head and dropped his satchel onto the counter. He might not have had any more run-ins with Tania, but she kept texting. He didn’t bother to read them, but it left a bad taste. Like something was just waiting in the shadows trying to mess everything up.

“So, what’s going on?”

Nothing. Apart from the fact that until his mom got a new job, he could hardly afford to take Frankie for a soda, let alone the daily coffees. He rubbed his chin. He could tell her, but what was the point?

Frankie might have grown up on the wrong side of town, but she wasn’t there now. She lived in a nice house and didn’t have to worry about money.

Last thing he wanted was to drag her down with his problems.

Seeing Tania at the bowling alley was a reminder that he needed to keep his two worlds separate.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Well, this will wake you up.” She put down her cup, her eyes glowing. “I’ve got a surprise.”

“Oh, yeah? Is this a game I’m going to like?” he said as a strand of blonde hair brushed across her cheek. She pushed it away and picked up an envelope from the counter.

“It’s not a game exactly,” she admitted as she passed it over. “Go on, open it.”

He took it from her and lifted the flap up. Money. Sixty bucks. He frowned. “I don’t get it. What’s this for?”

“For your sketch.” Frankie beamed, and he followed her gaze to the back wall where all of Chelsea’s drawings were proudly displayed.

His brow pushed together. “I don’t follow.”

“Yesterday when you were on a break this woman from Florida asked to have a look at it. She has her own Rosie. Though she’s called Lucy. Anyway, she came back this morning and pretty much begged me to sell her the sketch. She loved it. Didn’t even care it was on the back of a napkin.”

“You sold it?’ He turned to the wall and faced the gap where his drawing had been. Her smile faded as she peered up at him through her lashes.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t think you’d mind. She’s a tourist, so she’ll never be back here. I mean, it’s sixty bucks.”

“I—” The words tasted like cotton wool in his mouth as he struggled to make sense of it. Silence spread between them. “The reason I don’t talk much about it is because it’s the one time I’m not judged. I’m not Marty Lang’s kid. It doesn’t matter what I wear or where I live. I’m just me.”

She stiffened and her face crumpled. “Jackson, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. But she wasn’t judging you. She loved it. I don’t think you know how talented you are,” she said, then her voice faltered. “A-are you mad?”

His fingers tightened around the envelope. Sixty bucks. It was a lot. With his mom about to be out of work, it would pay for Chelsea’s schoolbooks and new shoes. A wave of guilt hit him. Frankie had only been trying to help.

Her face was pale, and her lips were pressed together.

Oh, hell.

He was an idiot. She’d just earned him a stupid amount of money for something that had taken him ten minutes to draw. On the back of a napkin. He hadn’t even been trying. How many dishes did he have to wash for sixty bucks? A lot more than ten minutes’ work, that was for sure.

Did this mean he could sell more of his work? Make more money?

“I’m not mad,” he finally spoke. “I was just surprised. I don’t like showing my work to people. But…I don’t like being broke either. This is pretty cool.”

“Promise?”

“Pinkie promise,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Sorry. This is just new to me.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. “I won’t do it again, but Jackson, not everyone’s going to judge you.”

“Yeah, you could be right.” He reached out and grazed her hand, letting the heat of her skin burn into him. Her mouth trembled, and before he could stop himself, he kissed her.

The clawing sensation in his skull faded as she melted into him. Then she peered up at him, eyes wide.

“There goes the no kissing rule,” she whispered as his arms snaked around her waist, her mouth hot on his. He couldn’t even remember why they’d had the rule in the first place.

10

“Frankie, calm down. It’s my party. I’m the one who should be running around in a panic.”

“I’m not in a panic,” Frankie corrected on Saturday night as she held up two dresses. “I’m just having a slight crisis. Blue or white?”

“White.” Lo promptly pointed to the white sundress Frankie had spent last week’s wages on. The skirt was soft cotton, and the bodice was covered in lace with halter straps and a cutout back. When she’d tried it on, she’d had visions of wearing it while walking along the beach. Or floating. But now?

“Sure it doesn’t look like a wedding dress?” She held it against herself and studied her reflection. This is what happened when Via wasn’t around to supervise her shopping expeditions.

“It doesn’t look like my wedding dress,” Lo said as she crossed the room and plucked the blue dress from her hands. “Now…finish getting ready. People will start arriving soon.”

“Okay,” Frankie said as Lo left the room holding the blue dress, because apparently she had trust issues. Frankie shrugged off her robe and put the white dress on. Then checked her hair. She’d forgone the straightener so it was hanging in curls down her back. She wasn’t quite comfortable with it, but Jackson seemed to really like it just the way it was.

Her chest expanded as she put on another layer of gloss.

Jackson liked her just the way she was.

It was a week since Summerfest, and she still couldn’t quite get used to the fact this was happening. She, Frankie Hargreaves, had a third date.

With a really, really gorgeous guy.

And I nearly screwed it all up.

She’d been too caught up in the excitement that someone wanted to buy one of his sketches it never occurred to her he might not like it. It still annoyed her the world had treated him so badly. She turned to the sketch he’d given her of the Cauldron. Every time she looked at it, there was another layer she’d never noticed before.

Just like Jackson.

On cue, her phone beeped with a text message. It was him.

Just parking the car. See you soon.

Right on time, she replied and hurried downstairs to meet him. The place looked amazing. Tiny lanterns were strung up around the foyer and sitting room, and out in the back yard a fifties-style bar made out of cane had been set up.

Lo and Johnny were talking to a couple of new arrivals in the foyer who were dressed as Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t a costume party, but Frankie was well used to her aunt’s friends and didn’t blink.

Jackson was standing at the door as she opened it.

Her heart melted.

Gone were his jeans and plain T-shirts, replaced with a pair of gray pants and a pale blue button-up. Had he done this just for her? His dark curls hung around his killer cheekbones, and his blue eyes were the color of a summer sky.

“Wow. Frankie, you look—”

“Weird? Scary? Curly?”

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he said, still standing on the other side of the doorstep, his jaw slack.

“That’s a very good answer,” she said, still adjusting to him. This was a different Jackson again. Not the guy in jeans or in the floral apron. “Come in.”

He paused, as if unsure what would happen if he stepped across the threshold. She wanted to tease him about being a vampire, but stopped herself.

Some new arrivals walked up the path, and he quickly stepped in. His hand grazed hers. The panic dissolved. What did it matter what dress she wore? As long as she was with him, everything was fine.

“Hey,” he murmured for a second time, his voice low and gravelly. Her stomach flipped.

“Hey.” She grinned and her fingers tightened in his. “Now, come outside and see the patio. It will blow your mind,” she said as she led him there.

Old-fashioned beach chairs were spread out over the grass. Oil torches were dotted around like fireflies while the record player (yes, of course Lo still owned an original one) had stacks of records at one side, waiting for their turn.

Lo and Johnny were by the sliding door, and Lo buried Jackson in a hug that made his cheeks go red, while Johnny shook his hand before checking if they wanted drinks. Frankie shook her head and said she had it all under control.

“Sounds ominous,” Jackson said as they threaded past the growing crowds.

She giggled. “I’m just saving you from the nonalcoholic punch. It’s orange and there are green things floating in it. Oh, and it smells like toothpaste. But there are a ton of sodas in the fridge.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though his jaw was still clenched. Like he was uncomfortable. She tightened her grip on his hand. Most of the people there were talking about their vacation plans and restoring old cars. Jackson’s face was pale. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea?

She started to head toward a love seat at the bottom of the garden when Lo called out.

“Frankie. Can I steal you for five minutes?”

“Sure,” she replied, and turned to Jackson. “I’m so sorry. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave a quick shake of his head, sending his dark curls falling across his brow, almost hiding his eyes. Just like when she’d first met him. Her stomach tightened. He was already having a terrible time.

She quickly scanned the patio and settled on Lo’s friend, Maggie, who’d done the catering for the night. She was with her new boyfriend, and they were laughing together. Frankie had only met him a couple of times, but he seemed nice.

“Actually. Just let me introduce you to someone, then I know you’ll be in safe hands.”

“Frankie, it’s okay—” he started to say just as Lo reappeared, giving her a pointed look.

“I really don’t mind.” She quickly introduced them and then darted inside to see what Lo wanted. And in five minutes they’d be sitting on the love seat, and the rest of the night would be epic.

xxxx

This was a mistake.

A big freaking mistake.

Jackson toyed with the plate in his hand before searching the crowd for Frankie. His shirt was tight around his neck, and he longed to unbutton it. Scratch that. He longed to get rid of it and never wear it again. Having grease in his hair and wearing an apron was nothing compared to this. At work it was just him and Frankie.

But this party?

I should have stayed at home.

Frankie was stuck with a friend of Lo’s, and she kept sending him apologetic looks. It had been like that the whole night. Not that it was her fault. She was Lo’s beloved niece, and these were Lo’s friends. They all knew each other, whereas he had nothing in common with any of them. Especially not the couple she’d first introduced him to.

It had been the start of a painful conversation, and they’d made their excuses minutes later.

At the other end of the patio, a karaoke machine appeared, and a roar of applause went up as people crowded around it, chattering about song choices.

Someone bumped his arm, and the contents of the plate spilled down his shirt. It just about summed up the night. He steadied himself and beelined for the house to clean up. The bathroom was empty. He sponged the stain away as best he could.

Where was his jacket when he needed it?

He headed back out but then glanced at his wet shirt. He could just wait until it dried. The living room was empty, but the thought of sitting on the retro sofa, looking up at the decorated walls and matching curtains made his breathing speed up. Like he was being suffocated.

He’d seen her house on the outside, but the inside was something else. Straight out of a magazine. Albeit a nineteen-fifties magazine. But still, it was…too much.

He stalked to the front door.

A few minutes while the shirt dried. And some fresh air. That’s what he needed.

The green lawn was flat, but there was a bench seat over by a willow tree. He wandered over and tugged at the damn collar. He sucked in a breath of air. That’s better. Once he was sitting, he pulled out his phone and began to text. Just to let her know he hadn’t bailed.

“What I want to know is what the hell is Frankie doing with Marty Lang’s kid?” a voice said from behind the side fence. They obviously had no idea he was sitting in the front lawn.

Jackson’s blood froze, and the world began to spin. The voice belonged to the first guy he’d been introduced to.

“Lo said he’s okay,” a woman answered, but it wasn’t convincing, and the first speaker just snorted.

“I went to school with Marty, and his kid has the exact same look. No damn good.”

The woman murmured a reply and then the voices drifted away.

Jackson clenched his fists as his phone fell to the grass.

Why was he even annoyed?

After all, it had been happening his entire life. To him. And his mom. The only thing that surprised him was that he thought he could step out of his father’s shadow. Since when had that happened?

But he knew the answer.

Since he’d fallen for Frankie Hargreaves. So gorgeous, so funny…and so full of misguided optimism. She saw the world as she wanted it to be, rather than what it was.

To her, he was a guy who could draw. Who had potential.

Which meant she didn’t have a clue who he really was.

I went to school with Marty, and his kid has the exact same look. No damn good.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I almost thought you’d left.” Frankie appeared. Her tan glowed against her white dress, and it almost set him on fire. She made him forget everything. But now he knew that wasn’t good.

I can’t do this.

“Yeah,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze as he scooped up his phone. “I had a headache. I was just about to text you. I might head off.”

“You want to leave?” Disappointment marred her face. “I could get you a painkiller for the headache. It might help.”

If only.

“I don’t think so.” He got to his feet, realizing his shirt button was still undone at the collar and the front was covered in water. Not that it mattered. He never wanted to see the damn shirt again.

He went to walk past her, and she let out a tiny gasp.

“Jackson, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if she was cold, despite the warm night.

Even this was wrong. Frankie didn’t belong in the darkness. She was made for lights and warmth and laughter. And that wasn’t him. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he was more than just Marty Lang’s son, it was inescapable.

Someone was always there to remind him. He’d seen it enough times with his mom. Enough times at school. Even with Tania. And yet Frankie had almost made him believe the outcome could be different.

“It’s over.”

“Just like that?” Her voice faltered, and he winced as if he’d been hit in the gut. Except the only one throwing punches was him.

He didn’t bother to mention what he heard. What was the point? After all, they only said what everyone else had been thinking.

“We’re from different worlds. You have Lo and your cupcakes and your happy life. You’ve seen my place.”

“That doesn’t define who you are,” she insisted, and he choked back a bark of laughter. “You’re more than that. Your art. You could go to college. Study. Your future doesn’t have to be like it is now.”

“My future?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jeez, Frankie. Don’t you get it? I’m not going to college. At this rate I might not even finish senior year. My mom got fired.”

“Fired? No. That’s terrible. When did it happen?”

Hell. He hadn’t meant to say that. Still. It didn’t matter now.

“Wednesday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hurt flashed in her eyes, changing them from ocean blue to a murky gray. The color of pain.

Because I was embarrassed.

“I’m telling you now. I can’t let my family down. I have responsibilities.” He gritted his teeth. It was all true…but it didn’t help. What was the old cliché? The higher you climb, the further you fall. And right now, it was like he’d been smashed at the bottom of a cliff.

“I know that, Jackson.”

“Do you?”

She flinched. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Your summer plans involved trying to kiss a boy. I’ve got a few more things to worry about.”

“That’s not fair.” Tears rimmed her eyes, and something twisted in his gut. He kept saying he didn’t want to be like his dad. But so far his track record wasn’t looking great. What had Frankie ever done to him? Except kid herself into believing he was a nice guy.

“Life’s not fair.” He turned away, not sure he could stand looking at her as her face crumpled. It was for the best. She’s better off without me. “I’m sorry. I w—”

He broke off. What was the point of saying what he wished for? After all, that’s what had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place.

From now on, he couldn’t afford to make plans, to have dreams. He needed to stay focused. After all, no one else forgot who he was, so why should he?

“Please don’t,” she said in a small voice. It was so un-Frankie-like that he had to clench his fists to stop from taking it all back.

“I’m sorry,” he said before walking to his car. How many times had he said sorry to her? That alone proved it had all been a mistake. Another guy wouldn’t have his ex-girlfriend confronting them. Wouldn’t get mad because someone tried to sell one of his pictures. Wouldn’t always be the son of a murderer.

Then he fumbled for his keys and drove away before he could even think about looking back.

And it sucked.

11

Frankie stepped out of the shower on Sunday night. She hadn’t wanted one, but it was the only way she could stop herself from obsessively scanning her phone for a text. A message to let her know he’d been joking. That it had all been a terrible mistake.

But there had been nothing.

Worst day off ever.

She reached for a towel and dried herself, resisting the urge to look in the mirror and see just how red and swollen her eyes were. When Aaron had humiliated her, she’d been upset for sure, but it had only gone skin-deep. This was right down to the core. Etched into her bones.

And there wouldn’t be any Jackson to help her recover.

Because he dumped me.

Everything she’d first thought about him had been true. He might have had better manners than some bad boys, might even have been sweet and kind, but underneath he was just like her mom’s ex.

She’d trusted him, and he’d hurt her.

How could she have fallen for him?

Cold anger bristled as she shrugged on a robe and marched to the hair dryer. It took fifteen minutes to get it as straight as possible. No way was she leaving it natural just because Jackson liked it.

From tomorrow when they were back at work, she would be keeping her distance. They could go back to the original plan of staying out of each other’s way. She sat down on the bed just as Lo poked her head in the room. Frankie was well aware of her red eyes. She hadn’t told her aunt what had happened because she didn’t want to ruin Lo’s and Johnny’s blissful mood.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She shrugged and wondered if she could get away with wearing sunglasses in her room to hide the fact she’d been crying. “What’s up?”

“I’ve just had a phone call. From Jackson.”

“You have?” Despite the lectures she’d been giving herself all day, hope flared in her chest. “Did he want to speak to me?”

To say it had all been a mistake.

That he was sorry.

That—

“Not exactly.” Lo’s emerald eyes looked sorrowful. “He wanted to tell me he was quitting.”

The room spun, and Frankie clutched at the corner of the bed.

So much for her dignified distance.

“What? Why?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. He isn’t much of a talker at the best of times. Did something happen last night? I thought the pair of you were—”

“We’re not. Well…we almost were. But it was never official.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

That made two of them.

“It’s okay.” She forced the words out, ignoring how they caught in her throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not really,” she said and rubbed her brow. She’d been dreading having to work with him, but she hadn’t thought he’d quit. Not when he needed the money. And his mom had just lost her job. “That isn’t what I wanted. Sh-should I talk to him?”

“I don’t think it would do any good. I wasn’t sure why he was quitting, but Johnny had told me things were tight for him at home, so I tried to see if he wanted to work in the kitchen with me. But he said no. Said he had some construction work.”

Her stomach plummeted. Construction work. With Tania’s father.

The thing he’d sworn he’d never do again.

Had everything been a lie?

“Oh. I-I think he did that last summer. I guess he was sick of wearing a floral apron,” she said in a casual voice.

“I guess so.” Lo scanned her face, as if searching for clues. Then she sighed. “I’ll have to send Kenneth over to help out until I can hire someone else.”

“Fine,” she replied as she suddenly felt tired, hurt, and ready to bury her head under her comforter for the next million years. Jackson had done the one thing he promised he wouldn’t do.

He’d bailed on her.

This is what happens when you follow your heart.

xxxx

If staring into space was an Olympic sport, Frankie would have made a podium finish. The last of the light had gone, and the strange space between day and night had turned the sky a smudgy purple. Just the color of her bruised heart. She walked away from her bedroom window and lay down on her bed.

She’d never see him again. Not in Rosie, and she didn’t doubt that at school he’d make sure he stayed out of her way.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten all day.

She glanced at the time. It was eight at night.

Frankie and her aunt usually took it in turns to cook, and Lo had said something about quiche. Johnny had left earlier in the day, which meant it would just be the two of them. She hauled herself up. Her body was heavy. Like walking was too much effort. Stupid gravity.

If Via’s superpower was hiding from Hudson, Frankie’s was walking like a zombie.

The stairway was dark, and Lo’s Everly Brothers record was stuck, filling the house with an eerie sound.

“Lo,” she called as she walked into the living room and flicked on the light. “Are you…”

The words trailed off, and Frankie froze.

Lo was sprawled out on the sofa. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin was unnaturally white. On the floor was a glass, and water seeped into the carpet.

No, no, no.

Blood drained from her face, and she forced her zombie limbs to work. It was like a bad dream, where she wanted to run but couldn’t lift her legs. Why couldn’t she move? Finally she managed to make her body work and reached Lo’s side.

“It’s okay,” she said, too scared to even cry. Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone and called an ambulance. “It’s okay, Lo. It’s okay.”

Her aunt managed to open an eye, but it was glassy, and her unfocused gaze made her seem like she was a million miles away. Frankie was going to be sick.

Don’t think about it. But she couldn’t stop herself.

She’d seen this once before.

xxxx

Jackson leaned back in the sand. It was still warm from the day, though night was falling, and the place was deserted. The sky was a purple blaze. He’d always drawn in pencil but lately he had an overwhelming urge to try colors.

It was her doing.

He squashed the idea. Black and white was better. Safer. He knew where he was with a pencil in his hand.

He let out a shuddering breath. He shouldn’t even be here. This was Frankie’s place. Somewhere that brought her closer to her mom.

If she saw him there, it would probably taint it.

He slowly got to his feet. It was time to go home and get some sleep. He needed to be alert tomorrow when he went to see Tania’s father about a job.

He shouldn’t have quit without having more work lined up. But as their fight went round and round in his head, he knew it was the only option.

And it hadn’t been a fight. It had been him hurting someone who deserved better.

I did the right thing to end it.

It had become his mantra. Say it enough times and he wouldn’t be tempted to change his mind. He dusted away the sand. Breaking waves sang in chorus with the early evening animals as he reached the parking lot. From now on he had to stay away from this place. Leave it for Frankie.

He gave a sharp nod of his head in farewell and reached for the jacket in the backseat. He shrugged it on and a key fell out. Hell. It was the key for Rosie. He’d forgotten all about it.

He needed to give it back. To draw a line under everything.

Lo’s number was still on his recent calls. From when he’d taken the coward’s way out and told her he was quitting. No doubt she’d now had the whole story from Frankie. It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but he had to do it.

There was no answer, so he put the key back in his jacket and started the car engine. One more trip to the good part of Cricket Bay, then he’d be done for good.

The Sunday night traffic was light, so half an hour later he pulled up into the leafy suburb. There were no lights on, and Frankie’s front garden, where the realities of his life had sledgehammered their way into his brain, was covered in shadows.

Should he just leave it in the mailbox and send her a text message?

It would be a hell of a lot easier than having to face Lo, who would be—

Mailbox it was. He climbed out of the car and steeled himself. All he had to do was cross the road. Then it would all be over. He took a step, and another, until he reached the curb.

Like everything else of Lo’s, the mailbox was in mint nineteen-fifties condition and was built like a miniature house with a long sloping roof. His fingers tightened on the keys, and he leaned down so he was face to face with the slot.

“Honey, whatever you’re trying to leave for them, they won’t get it.”

He stiffened and stood back up to face a tiny woman who only came up to his shoulder. Her white hair was in a buzz cut, and even in the darkness her eyes were bright. There was a small dog at the end of the leash in her hand. He vaguely recognized her as the next-door neighbor.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t heard?” She tilted her head. “I’ve seen you and Frankie together lately and figured you’d know they were at the hospital.”

Hospital?

Blood roared in his temples. His fingers tightened around the key. “What happened? Is it Frankie?”

“No, no, it’s not your girl. It’s Lo. She had a cardiac arrest. The ambulances were here an hour ago.”

“Is she okay?”

The tiny woman’s face tightened, and her eyes dimmed. “I don’t know. Johnny promised he’d call as soon as there was news.”

“Thanks.” His head pounded. Cardiac arrest? That’s how Frankie’s mom died.

The old woman gave him a sad smile and shuffled toward her house. He waited until she was safely indoors and then rubbed his hand through his hair. He should just put the key into the mailbox and go home. It wasn’t his business. He had no right to care. To be worried.

Hell. He stalked back to the car, fired up the engine, and drove down the street. The turn to lead him back to the Boards was to the right, but before he could stop himself, he flicked on the signal and turned left.

Toward Cricket Bay’s only hospital.

12

The clock on the wall marked every second with a soft tick. It had been the only thing that had stopped Frankie from completely losing it. Just listen to the clock and remember to breathe. She shifted in the dull green chair in the waiting room and tried to erase the vision that haunted her. Lo’s white face and shallow breathing.

The doctors had confirmed it was a cardiac arrest.

The same thing that killed my mom—

No. She wasn’t allowed to go down that rabbit hole. She returned her focus to the wall clock.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

She ran a hand through her hair. It was probably frizzy thanks to all the sweat on the long drive in the ambulance. She didn’t care. What was the point of controlling her hair, when she couldn’t control her life?

What if something happened to Lo?

She’d be all alone.

“Hey, Frank.” Johnny appeared with two cups of coffee from a machine. He passed her one and sat down. His face, always long and skinny, was drained of color, and it was like he’d aged ten years. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back.

“Thanks.” She clutched at the cup. The watered-down caffeine mixed with a waxy smell, and her stomach churned.

“So, I just saw Dr. Grieg. They’re going to put a stent in her heart and will be prepping her in an hour. It’s a real simple operation, and she’s in the best hands. There’s no reason that she can’t go home in a couple of days. He said we can see her, but only one at a time. You go first.”

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tightened around the cup.

“Never more sure of anything. She’ll want to see you first,” he said. No resentment, no jealousy. Just a fact. She’d never had a doubt Lo was going to marry a nice guy, and if anything proved it, this was it.

“Thank you. I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know you were, sweetheart,” he said, his face still deathly pale. “But she’s okay. That’s all you need to remember. You Hargreaves are hard to slow down.”

This time she didn’t stop the tears as she hugged him.

The sickly scent of disinfectant trailed her as she walked down the sterile hallway. Nurses walked past pushing carts, having hushed conversations.

She reached the room and stepped in. Lo was propped against a starchy white pillow and covered in sheets. She was hooked up to beeping machines that flickered and flashed with red lights. Her dark hair was pushed flat against her brow, and the lipstick she always wore was gone, but somehow she still looked exactly the same.

Alive.

Frankie’s eyes prickled again, and she rushed to the bed. Lo’s arms wrapped around her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Lo murmured, her voice croaky. “Turns out I’m not unstoppable. Who knew?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for jokes yet.” Frankie let out a watery laugh and finally straightened up, not letting go of her aunt’s hand. “I was so worried.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry to have scared you. Especially after what happened to your mom.”

She tightened her grip on Lo’s fingers. “I still don’t understand. You did everything right. You had healthcare. You have Johnny. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. The universe doesn’t keep tabs. The doctors think it’s genetic. But now we know, it’s treatable.”

“Are you really going to be okay?”

She knew what the doctors had said, but she needed to hear it from Lo. From the woman who had been an unmovable force since the day Frankie’s mom had died.

“Once they put the stent in, I should be good as new.” Lo gave her a wobbly smile. “If I asked you to go home and get some sleep, would you ignore me?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be the first thing you see when you come out of the operating room,” Frankie affirmed, finally getting her emotions under control. “I don’t even think Johnny will listen to you, and he’d walk on hot coals if you asked.”

Lo gave a tiny laugh, sounding a lot more Lo-like. “Nothing like celebrating an engagement with a trip to the hospital. He’ll be wondering what he’s gotten himself into.”

“He’s been beside himself. He loves you so much. So do I.”

“I love you too, Frankie. You’re not just my niece, you’re my daughter, and nothing will change that.” Lo squeezed her hand, but her eyelids were beginning to droop. She was obviously tired. Frankie got to her feet.

“I’d better let Johnny come in. He’s probably walked a hole in the waiting room floor.”

“Will you call Kenneth? He’ll have to run Rosie on his own. Then if you could call Maggie—her baking’s not as good as mine, but she’ll make sure he has everything he needs each day. And we have to call everyone to cancel their orders.”

Frankie had forgotten all about work and was about to tell Lo it was the last thing she needed to be worrying about. But she swallowed her protests.

This was the busy season. It’s what helped them get through the quieter months.

They couldn’t afford to shut down Rosie.

“I will. I promise. You don’t need to worry about it.”

She slipped out and went back to the waiting room where Johnny was leaning against the wall. At the sight of her, he hurried over.

“She’s really okay,” Frankie said, and some of the color returned to his face. “She’ll be better when she sees you.”

“Thanks, Frank.” Johnny gave her a quick hug, and she walked back with him. Frankie watched for a minute as they embraced each other, their foreheads pressed together, whispering.

That’s what love looks like.

She turned. It wasn’t her place to be watching them. She returned to the waiting room and sat down in the same dull green chair. It dug into her back, but she didn’t care. Lo was going to be okay. Tears leaked out of her eyes, but she wiped them away and reached for her phone. She sent Kenneth a text message explaining what had happened. Then she leaned back and shut her eyes.

It had been a long day.

xxxx

Jackson woke up to a sharp tapping noise. And why did his neck hurt? He opened his eyes, but bright sunlight made him shut them again. His elbow bumped the steering wheel, and it all came back to him.

He’d slept in the car.

The tapping started up again, and he shielded his eyes as he turned toward the passenger side window. It was Frankie. Her blonde hair was hanging in a straggle down her back, and her tanned face was like porcelain. Dark bags were underneath her red eyes, while her mouth was set in a flat line.

He wasn’t surprised.

He leaned over and rolled down the window. His stiff muscles protested, and he rubbed a hand across his face to try and wake up.

“Jackson? What are you doing here?”

That was a very good question.

And one he had no answer for.

By the time he’d reached the hospital last night, it had hit him that he couldn’t just go in and see how Lo was. Or how Frankie was coping. And so he’d sat in his car trying to convince himself to go home.

It hadn’t worked, and despite the uncomfortable night, he’d stayed.

Judging by the way her mouth was tightening, it probably hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had.

“I found my keys in my pocket and took them around to your place. Your neighbor told me what happened. And—” He paused and rubbed his brow, hoping for clarity. None came. “I figured I’d bring them to you. Is Lo okay?”

Her bloodshot eyes blinked, huge against her pale blotchy skin. She must have been so scared. Yet here she was facing him down, just like she faced down everything. She’d never looked so gorgeous.

She sucked in a breath and slowly nodded. “There was an operation, but it went fine. She’s sleeping now, and they’ll run some more tests before deciding when she can come home.”

His breathing evened out.

While it was clear Frankie was a mess, as long as her aunt was okay, she would be too. And yet he longed to drag her into his arms. He clenched his fingers to stop himself from doing anything moronic.

“I’m pleased,” he said just as an Uber pulled up outside the entrance, and Frankie’s phone beeped. “Is that for you? If you need to get some gear, I can take you. And drive you back here.”

“It’s okay.” She pushed her hair out of her face, her eyes turning from pale blue to the color of a summer storm. “I’ve got to swing by Lo’s kitchen to get a list of her orders. People need to be called, and then I’m off to Rosie.”

“What?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Frankie, you’re in no condition to work. Kenneth can handle it on his own.”

He wasn’t sure it was true. Kenneth was more inept than Frankie had led him to believe. But considering the circumstances…

“Kenneth can’t make it,” she said in a flat voice. “He’s worried about a lump on his arm. I’m only going there to put a sign up and clear out the fridges. We’re shutting Rosie until further notice. I also need to ring Maggie and cancel the baking order I made last night.”

Guilt rushed over him.

In half a day, Lo’s business had come to a grinding halt. Not because she was in hospital, but because Kenneth had let them down.

And so did I.

“I can work in Rosie. I’ll collect the baking order and open up.”

She shut her eyes as if she was trying to compose herself. After what seemed like hours, she looked at him. “That’s not necessary. If you’re feeling guilty, then don’t. Besides, what about your new job? On the construction site?”

Now it was his turn to shut his eyes.

“I was meant to be seeing them today about it.”

“But you told Lo you were starting.”

“I know,” he said, his voice grim. Yet another lie. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do.”

The only thing I can do.

Her mouth softened, but her knuckles were white as she leaned against the car door. “Jackson, I can’t accept.”

“Please. If you think Lo would trust me—”

“Yes, she trusts you. She always has. I do too.” Finally, some of her bravado faltered. “Are you really sure?”

“I’m really sure. Tell Lo I won’t let her down.”

He might not be able to make things up to Frankie, but at least this would let him help in the only way he could. It would have to do.

13

The day was bright, and Frankie shielded her eyes against the early afternoon sunshine as she crossed the town square. Tiny drops of water from the fountain sparkled in the air before falling onto the children who were playing nearby. Aaron was outside the surf shop talking to a brunette she didn’t recognize.

Frankie hurried on.

Rosie’s soft pink-and-white exterior shimmered, inviting customers to step in, like a bee to a bunch of bright summer flowers. Three of the tables were filled with tourists, all laughing and chatting as they sampled the cakes and sandwiches from the tiered plates in the center. Several more groups were studying the menu while a tall figure patiently hovered nearby.

Jackson.

His dark hair was combed back, and the ridiculous floral apron that he took such delight in wearing was wrapped around his jeans. The black jacket was gone, and he was wearing a white T-shirt. She ached from the familiarity.

The last three days had been an endless blur of doctors and nurses and decisions, but finally her aunt had been allowed home. She was still on bed rest, but the doctors were completely confident that with medication she had nothing to worry about.

Last night was the first time Frankie had slept for more than a few minutes at a time.

And after speaking to Lo this morning, they’d both decided she needed to talk to Jackson.

Her stomach churned. She hadn’t seen him since the morning outside the hospital, when she’d found him asleep in his car. She wracked her brain as to why he’d been there, but nothing quite explained it. Unless it was guilt that he’d dumped her.

Part of her had wanted to say no to his offer, to not be in his debt. But Lo had to come first, and so she’d said yes. And it had been the right decision, because it had eased Lo’s mind and meant she could concentrate on what really mattered. Getting well.

None of which was going to make today easier.

They hadn’t even spoken. Not really. He’d sent two texts a day to let her know how everything was going and to confirm he’d reconciled the receipts.

In short, he’d been amazing.

And yet he dumped me without even giving a reason why.

She swallowed and increased her pace. Her eyes hungrily taking him all in. He was leaning over a table, as if making sure he got the order right. He laughed at something the customer said.

She resisted the urge to check her hair was still neatly tied up in a ponytail.

Not that it mattered.

He’d made it clear how he felt. The fact he’d been helping out was because he was grateful for all her aunt had done for him.

I can do this.

She took another step just as he looked up. His navy eyes widened, and without a word to the customers he’d been serving, he strode over to her, menus still clutched in his hand.

How could he still look so good? It wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” he said as soon as he reached her. His eyes were filled with concern as he scanned her face. “How is she? Is everything okay?” The words were cautious, as if he couldn’t quite read her expression. She nodded and tried to ignore the faint pine scent that always accompanied him.

“She’s back home. When I left, Johnny had resorted to bribery to stop her from coming here herself. She’s itching to get back to work.”

The tightness around his jaw loosened. “I’m pleased.”

“Me too,” she said, the words catching in her throat.

“Oh, hell, Frankie. It’s—” He stretched out his hand before seeming to catch himself. His jaw clenched. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets as the women at one of the tables looked over with interest. “Um, do you want some help?”

“What?” He blinked before staring down at the pad and menus in his hand. He sucked in a breath as if trying to get his focus back. “Oh…yeah. Only if you have time.”

Without another word, she followed him into Rosie.

Several more of Chelsea’s masterpieces were hanging from the wall. The counters were clean, apart from a box of tomatoes, which he’d obviously been in the middle of cutting before his customers had appeared.

Guilt flooded her.

He’d been doing everything on his own. But before she could speak, he ushered her over to her regular station. Nothing had changed. In the display cabinet was one of Maggie’s carrot cakes. Not quite the same as the ones Lo baked, but still mouthwatering.

A pang of nostalgia hit, but she swallowed it down as he read out the order.

The steady routine of preparing the cakes, making sure they were plated just right, helped push aside the constant thrum of anxiety that had appeared when she’d first found Lo collapsed on the sofa.

Next to her, Jackson brewed pots of tea and sorted out the cups and saucers. He moved past her, so close her skin prickled as he took the order out.

After that there was a steady stream of customers, keeping them both busy for the next hour.

“Please don’t tell me it’s been like this for the last week?” she said as they cleared tables.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said, though it was at odds with the tired sheen in his eyes. She obviously wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping well. “I take it Kenneth won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

“Don’t get me started,” Frankie growled. “He quit because he wasn’t feeling appreciated. Apparently, we didn’t take his illnesses seriously enough.”

“Lousy timing,” Jackson agreed in a diplomatic tone as he piled the delicate teacups onto a tray. He stopped and studied her face. “So, I’m guessing now you’re back you won’t need me. Should I finish up my shift?”

“What?” The teapot in Frankie’s hand rattled, and she quickly put it down. There’d been enough broken things lately. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

“It’s okay, Frankie. I get how much you and Lo must hate the idea of me working here. After what I did to you. Not my finest moment.”

“Lo isn’t like that. She never wanted you to quit. Neither did I. I mean, I was worried about working with you, but I would have been fine. You didn’t have to do it. Especially not after your mom—” She cut herself off, but it was too late. He flinched.

Nice going.

Was that why he’d dumped her?

Because he thought she looked down on him or his family? She wanted to tell him he was wrong. That his mom sounded cool, and brave, and strong. And that Chelsea was an angel. But she clamped down on her lips. He probably wouldn’t believe her.

She was just the girl who sold his drawings without asking him.

“So, why are you here?” he said in a flat voice. She’d been right. He obviously hadn’t changed his mind. She steadied herself, not up to being dumped for a second time in a week.

Just get it over and done with. You can lick your wounds later.

“Lo…we…were hoping you’d keep working here until the end of summer. She’s going to advertise to replace Kenneth, but it might take a few weeks.”

Something flickered across his face, but it was too fleeting to read.

“Will you be here?”

She swallowed. “Is that a problem?”

He gave a curt shake of his head. “No problem.” Then without another word he returned to his work.

It had gone about as well as could be expected.

Correction. It had gone exactly how she’d planned. Jackson had made it abundantly clear how he felt about her. Not much she could do about that. Besides, it wasn’t like she wanted more. Dumped once, shame on him, but dumped twice…

It was something she’d do well to remember.

xxxx

Jackson had never been a fan of jogging, but since Frankie had come back to work he’d found himself down at the Cauldron every evening, pounding against the wet sand trying to get rid of all the excess…feelings.

He came to a halt and wiped the sweat from his brow. It didn’t really work, but at least it left him too tired to think about her for more than an hour or two before falling asleep.

Still, it was nothing less than he deserved.

The only consolation was that Frankie didn’t seem affected at all. It had been five days since she’d returned, and while they’d fallen back into their old friendly banter, it was a façade. Like there was something missing. Underneath, he could tell she was distant.

He was just the guy who’d ruined her summer.

And I thought Aaron Tremain was the douche.

It had to get easier. He jogged back to his car and headed home. The window was open, and the cool wind hit his face as he pulled up to the apartment block. He unlocked the door, and his nose twitched.

Roast chicken?

He blinked. His mom had always been a great cook, but with the way her shifts had been split, there’d never been time for more than a hastily thrown together meal. None of them had minded, but as competing smells caught in his nose, it seemed to change the entire apartment. Like it was more than just bad wallpaper and mustard-colored carpet.

His mom was by the stove, stirring something in a pot.

“Hey,” he said in a cautious voice. “What’s going on?”

She looked up and smiled. The rings under her eyes had gone thanks to getting more sleep, but right now she was beaming. Good news?

“Remember I applied for that job at a plumbing store, working in the office?”

“Sure.” He nodded. She’d applied for everything and anything, though most of them had been long shots. She grinned at him, and his eyes widened. “You got a call back?”

“More than that. I got the job.”

“Seriously?” Jackson picked her up and swung her around. She laughed, and something in his chest shifted. His mom hadn’t laughed like that for a long time.

“Seriously. Now put me down,” she commanded, though the smile was still there. The noise brought Chelsea charging out, Miss Sparkles tucked under her arm.

“Jackson. Momma’s going to dress up each day and do math. It’s like school, but different,” the little girl explained in an earnest voice.

“It sure is,” he said before turning back to his mom. “Tell me what happened.”

A pink glow hit her cheeks. “Turns out the owner is Stan Wells. We went out for a little while…before I met your dad. He remembered me and got me in for an interview. And no, don’t look like that. He remembered I’d been great at math, and the fact I’d raised two kids on the sniff of an oily rag impressed him. It’s going to be okay, J. If all goes well, we might even be able to move out of the Boards. A new life.”

“Do you really think that’s possible? I mean, we can change our address, but there aren’t many Stans in the world. We’re still going to be connected to what my father did. What kind of person he was.”

His mom’s smile dimmed, and he cursed himself for saying anything. Then she reached for his hand. “I know things have been tough, and so many times I wish I’d never met Marty Lang. Never made the decisions I did. But without him, I wouldn’t have you.”

Jackson closed his eyes.

They never talked about his father. It was much easier to let his presence sit there like a festering wound.

“Why did you stay with him?” The words burned his throat as he spoke.

She bowed her head. “He wasn’t always bad. There were so many moments when he was…well…someone I could fall in love with. We were young, and I made excuses for all the other times. Even when I got pregnant with you, I hoped things would change. That he’d know how to be a good partner. A good father.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said in a gruff voice.

“That’s not exactly true. I could have left him sooner. But it was hard. Once you’re in that world, they don’t like you leaving.”

“How did you do it?” His heart hammered. He’d only been four when they’d split, but his mom was right. Not many people walked away from that life. Why had he never asked her before?

“I told him of all the things I’d heard and how I’d written them down and given them to a lawyer. That if anything happened to me…”

“Were you scared?”

She squeezed his hand. “Tell me, Jackson, how far would you go to keep Chelsea safe?”

“I’d do anything,” he said without even thinking. “Anything.”

“Me too. And not just for Chelsea. From the moment you were born, I loved you more than anything in the world. So, no. I wasn’t scared; not for myself. All I cared about was making sure you were safe. And happy.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t know.”

“I’ve been so busy trying to outrun the past, I didn’t like to talk about it much. I could have done better.”

“I get why you didn’t,” he said as a timer beeped.

“Dinner’s ready!” Chelsea clapped her hands and skipped around the kitchen.

“Sure is,” his mom said before turning to Jackson. She lightly touched his chin. This time he didn’t flinch. “Remember, you’re not just Marty Lang’s son. You’re my son too. I don’t know what happened with you and Frankie, and you don’t need to tell me, but I meant what I said. You’re allowed to be happy.”

She walked over to the stove, chatting to Chelsea as she did. But he just stood there, his mind spinning.

You’re not just Marty Lang’s son. You’re my son too.

And apparently his mom was someone who did hard things. Even when she was scared. So, what did it mean? That things could have been different?

That if he’d been stronger, he and Frankie might have—

Oh, hell. What had he done?

14

“How was it?” Lo asked as Frankie kicked off her shoes and walked into her aunt’s bedroom. Her favorite yellow roses filled it with a heavenly scent that competed with the many bunches that were arriving daily. Pill bottles and paperback books covered the nightstand, along with bridal magazines. She was able to get up for longer each day, but still seemed to tire quickly. The doctors were pleased with her progress.

“It was fine. Busy, but good.” Frankie curled up in the chair by the bed.

“And the rest?” Lo arched an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” A hollow hole in her chest started to burn.

“I mean, how is it working with him again? It’s been almost a week, and you haven’t mentioned his name once. Is it that bad?”

“I’m sure getting a lobotomy would be worse.” Frankie picked at the hem of her dress. Then she sighed. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t sound convincing,” Lo said. “Maybe it was a mistake to stay open?”

“This is the busy season. You’re already down because you can’t fill orders. We can’t afford to shut Rosie as well. Not with that retro wedding dress you’ve been eyeing. And the price tag.”

“And I can’t afford to let my niece have a miserable summer. I’ve already ruined it enough.”

“It’s fine. I swear,” Frankie said in a fierce voice. “And it will help remind me not to make the same mistake again. You think I would have learned by now.”

“Learned what?” Lo studied her face with interest.

“Not to trust a bad boy. You’d think after everything that happened to Mom…well, I guess I have to make my own mistakes.”

Lo inched further up in her bed. “Wait. You think that your mom wouldn’t want you to date someone like Jackson because of who his father was?”

“No,” Frankie said before wincing. “Yeah. If she hadn’t stayed with Keith, if he hadn’t taken all her money, we would have had insurance.” Her throat tightened, and she tilted her neck upward to stop the tears from leaking out. “If she’d been dating someone like Johnny—”

This earned her a grim bark of laughter. “Your mom and Johnny would have killed each other within a week. Johnny is the perfect guy for me, but he and your mom never would have suited.”

“I just meant Johnny’s been so amazing. He stayed with you the whole time. Lo, you should have seen his face. Mom never had that. But if she’d been with someone decent, things might have been different.”

Silence filled the room, before Lo let out a soft sigh.

“Sweetheart. What happened to Angie was devastating. I’m not sure either of us will ever really get over it, but the last thing she’d want is for you to blame someone for what happened. She didn’t live her life like that.”

“And she paid the price.” The words were raw and jagged, and she couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes. These days, crying seemed to be her default mode.

“I know it hurts, and I went and made it worse. But you can’t be scared of life. Angie was the bravest person I’ve ever met. Do you know she first moved away from Cricket Bay when she was seventeen?”

Frankie sat up straight. “She did?”

“Right. When I was seventeen, I was too scared to ask a boy out on a date. But nothing scared your mom. She came back a few years later, but after getting pregnant with you, she decided to make a life for herself in Los Angeles. And that’s what she did. And yes, she hit some bumps, but she never regretted anything. If you ask me, that’s not a bad way to live. And you’re her daughter. So much like her that it takes my breath away sometimes.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Angie would hate for you to be traveling through life carrying more luggage than you need. Yes, she made a mistake because she trusted a man who didn’t deserve her, but if she’d still been alive, she wouldn’t have let it stop her from looking for love. And it definitely wouldn’t have stopped her from dating someone else just because they reminded her of a bad experience. Your mom was brave.”

“Feel the fear and do it anyway?” Frankie said, almost waiting for Jackson to remind her it was a cliché.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Because he’d dumped her.

And yet…had she held back from him because she’d been scared?

Heat hit her cheeks.

She didn’t have to think very hard, because it was true.

Even before she’d met him, she’d assumed he was bad.

And then when he’d shown her just what a great guy he was, she still hadn’t been willing to take a chance on him. Not really.

He’d told her how personal his artwork was. That he didn’t like to share it with anyone, and what did she do?

Sold one to a complete stranger.

Shame pounded in her veins.

He’d been so uncomfortable at the engagement party. Like he didn’t belong. And all she’d done was run around helping Lo, forcing him to talk to strangers. She hadn’t bothered to think how he’d felt. That to him, it did matter.

Then there was the hospital. He’d slept in his car all night to make sure Lo was okay. To see what he could do to help. And he kept the business going singlehandedly.

She’d repaid him by thinking of him as the villain. The guy who dumped her. Who left her.

Except he hadn’t left at all.

He’d stayed.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“I’ve really messed up, haven’t I?”

Lo squeezed her hand. “You think all of my remarkable wisdom came for free? Sweetheart, we all mess up. It’s how we fix it that makes the difference. The question is, what are you going to do?”

Frankie got to her feet, her heart pounding. “I’ve got no idea,” she admitted. Usually that would terrify her, but if the last few days had taught her anything, it was that you didn’t always need a plan.

xxxx

Jackson leaned against the counter and made a list of things he could do to win Frankie back. So far, he’d come up with a picnic at the beach or a beach picnic. He crossed them both out. This was a disaster.

She was a girl who specialized in grand gestures. Picnics weren’t going to cut it.

He’d spent all night thinking he could just sweep her off her feet. But that would never work. He’d blown his chance to do that when he’d walked out of Lo’s party. The fact she was even talking to him was a minor miracle. Which meant he was going to have to pull out all the tricks.

Make a plan.

Except he didn’t make plans, which probably explained why he was doing such a bad job of it.

He stuffed the list into the pocket of the floral apron.

Today’s one was green with pink roses on it. It was midafternoon, and Frankie had left early to go to a doctor’s appointment with Lo. All without him figuring out a way to say sorry. To show her he’d screwed up. Correction. He didn’t need to convince her of that. She knew just how much he’d screwed up. What he needed was a way to fix what he’d done. Only he had no idea—

Someone coughed, and he looked up.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said as Aaron Tremain stood at the counter with his arm slung around a girl he vaguely recognized from school.

“Is that any way to talk to your customers?” Aaron chided and kissed the girl on the mouth. She let out a giggle and sat down at one of the tables, crossing her legs and leaning forward in Aaron’s direction.

Spare me.

“I guess it depends on the customer. And for the record, Frankie’s not here, so if you’re trying to mess with her, your show’s over.”

“Hey, I only messed with her once, and that’s because I thought she’d stood me up at Sam’s party,” Aaron said. The lack of remorse was laughable. Almost. “Besides, between you and me, hooking up with Melissa was a mistake. I had no idea someone so hot would be so clingy. I mean, this is summer. No one wants a relationship in summer.”

Jackson blinked. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Just making conversation, buddy.” Aaron shrugged. “So, the lovely Annie would like some iced tea. I’ll have some too and a couple of those chocolate things.” He pointed to the iced brownies that Maggie had sent over. He thrust some money onto the counter.

“Fine.” Jackson handed him the change and turned his back, not sure why he was annoyed. After all, in a way Aaron Tremain had brought him and Frankie together.

It wasn’t his fault that I screwed up.

He finished up the order, careful to get the brownies perfectly in the middle of the plate and count out the blueberries before scattering them on the cream.

“You know what your problem is, Lang?” Aaron said in a drawl as Jackson reached the table.

“You,” he retorted, trying to mirror Aaron’s smug expression.

“Well, yeah. It’s obvious that I’m a problem. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lusting after Frankie. Must have cut you up when she made a move on me.”

Jackson put down the tray. “If you mention her name one more time—”

“Whoa. Relax!” Aaron said in surprise as he held his hands up. “Seriously, I have some advice for you.”

“You should listen to him. Aaron is, like, totally smart,” the lovely Annie chimed in, and blew Aaron a kiss. He pretended to catch it, and Jackson considered vomiting. He turned to leave them to their sick lovefest.

“It’s color,” Aaron called after him. “You look like a freak only wearing black and white. Why would a girl like Frankie ever look at someone so dull?”

He spun around. “Seriously, you’re giving me fashion advice?”

“Sure, why not? Clothes maketh the man.” Aaron puffed out his chest to show off the pink polo shirt he was wearing.

“They also make the clown,” Jackson said before stalking inside. Behind him, he could hear the lovely Annie and Aaron giggling and what sounded like…face licking? He shuddered and got back to work.

By the time five o’clock hit, he’d packed away the awnings and tables and was just wiping down the counters.

As he worked, a piece of paper fell down from the back wall. It was a drawing that Chelsea had done of Frankie. She had glittery pink fairy wings and a purple magic wand, not to mention green hair and an orange dress. He suspected it had been drawn under Miss Sparkle’s evil influence.

Still, Frankie had adored it.

Then again, she adored all of Chelsea’s drawings and had carefully taped each one up on the wall, turning it into a riot of color. A rainbow explosion. Bright and—

He froze as his mind did a rewind to what Aaron had said.

Color.

Frankie liked color. That night on the beach when he’d finally noticed the streaky purple of the dying light, what was it he’d figured out?

That she’d taught me how to see the world in color.

Understanding slammed into him.

He grabbed his jacket and locked up for the night. He knew exactly what to do. He had no idea if it would work, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try. At least one plan was better than none.

And yes, the irony wasn’t lost on him that Aaron Tremain might have once again helped him out. Next time he saw the guy, he might even try and smile.

15

“You’re going to do what?” Via yelped as Frankie walked toward the square. Tourists were milling around, and outside the surf shop Aaron was leaning against the wall chatting to a tall brunette wearing a bikini. By her tally it was about the tenth girl he’d tried to hit on since Sam’s party. Frankie’s taste had really been quite shocking.

Correction. Her taste in Jackson was great. Now she just had to let him know. Hence her genius plan.

“I’m going to ask him on a date.”

“No,” Via corrected. “A date is going for a soda together. You want to hire out an entire bowling alley for two hours? Did we learn nothing from Summerfest?”

“We learned that even when grand gestures backfire, they can still work,” Frankie said in her defense. Besides, it was cute. Wasn’t it? Then she frowned. “And why are you trying to give me dating advice? I thought you didn’t believe in boyfriends.”

“I don’t,” her friend replied, but it didn’t have the same venom that usually accompanied it.

“Via…are you sure everything’s okay? Is something going on? Is it because of Hudson?”

“Of course not,” Via quickly replied. “That’s crazy talk. I hate that guy, remember? There’s nothing going on here. You have something going on.”

“Okay. Just asking,” Frankie said in surprise. Via would be back in a couple of days, and they really needed to have a proper talk. In the meantime, she had to focus on her plan. Or the lack of plan. After all, she had the venue but still didn’t have a clue how to ask him out.

She said a quick goodbye to her friend and put her phone away as she reached the fountain.

Her palms dampened.

What if Via was right?

What if it was a bad idea?

Lo’s words flashed through her mind.

Your mom was brave.

“I can do this,” she said out loud as a piece of paper fluttered on the trunk of an oak tree. It was a painting of a girl. Okay, that was random.

She kept walking as her mind whirled with ways to ask him out. Then she stopped and turned back around. That painting was…familiar. She walked back to the tree and stood in front of it.

The girl in the painting was about her age and was wearing a very pink fifties-style dress that was belted at the waist and flared at the skirt. She peered down at her own pink fifties-style dress.

Her mouth went dry as she stepped closer to inspect it.

In the corner was the artist’s name: Jackson Lang.

Wait. Jackson had painted a picture of her? And he’d used color?

The world began to buzz. The picture was stuck on with tape, and her hands shook as she carefully took it down.

Her finger traced the figure on the page. Blonde hair hung down the girl’s face, and her mouth was tipped at the ends as she laughed. Her eyes were a soft blue with dark lashes.

It was beautiful.

Is this really how he sees me?

“Jackson?” She spun around, but there was no sign of him. Another piece of paper fluttered, stuck onto the next tree. Her heart pounded as she hurried over. It was her again. This time she was wearing cutoff denim shorts.

Her legs were tanned, and her arms were folded in annoyance.

So much for thinking he hadn’t noticed how rude she’d been on that first day.

Her hands shook some more as she took down the painting and increased her pace. Her breathing was thick as she reached Rosie.

The tables were all set up, and the serving window was open. The sugar bowls were even filled. He must have been there for ages.

“Jackson?” she said for a second time, but there was still no answer. She opened the door and walked inside, and her throat tightened.

The wall where Chelsea’s many drawings had been was changed. The bright crayon figures were gone, replaced with exquisite artwork. Some of her. Some of Jackson. There was even one of Lo and Johnny on the night of their engagement party, kissing.

All in color.

But right in the middle was a gap. A perfect rectangle. As if one painting had been taken down. The faint scent of pine caught in her nostrils, and she spun around.

He was leaning against the doorframe. Dark curls pushed back off his face, his navy eyes uncertain. “Hey.”

“H-hey,” she said. “These pictures…when did you do them?”

“Turns out you’re not such a tough boss as you think. I had a lot of time on my hands this summer.”

Her mind flashed back to the day at the beach when it had started raining. It was before they’d kissed. The first time she’d seen his art. But when she’d asked to see more, he’d clammed up.

She gasped.

“When I was at your house…you had all of these?”

“Most of them. Some were sketched out. Including a couple of you. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was some creepy guy who likes to draw beautiful girls.”

Something loosened in her chest. “No one minds being called beautiful.”

His eyes caught hers, and he tilted his head. “So, can I come in?”

“You work here,” she reminded him.

“I promised I wouldn’t get in your hair.”

“Oh.” Heat hit her cheeks, and suddenly Rosie seemed far too small. But all the same, she nodded. “You can come in.”

“Thanks.” He stepped in, his eyes never leaving hers. Then his voice broke, raw with pain. “Hell, Frankie. I’ve got no idea what to say. How to do this. I thought I had a plan, but—”

He had a plan?

“Y-you’re new to this,” she stammered, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird. “It’s hard to cover all your bases first time.”

Still his beautiful eyes stayed on her. Her whole body was shaking as she caught sight of one of the paintings. The Cauldron. The place where he went to think. She knew better than anyone how special it was. And he was sharing it with her.

A sob caught in her throat. “I’m sorry I sold your sketch to a stranger. That I even showed it to her. I had no right. And when I dragged you to the party. I knew you were uncomfortable, and—”

Then he was next to her, his hand gently lifting her fingers away from the painting on the wall. Warmth flared through her, and the pain in her chest eased. She’d missed him. Really missed him.

She swallowed back a second sob, though tears were blurring her vision.

“Don’t cry.” His voice was hoarse. “I hate that I upset you. No one’s given me the time of day before. I got freaked out. This one’s all on me. I messed up so bad.”

“What happened that night at the party?” she said, not daring to look up at him. They were so close now. He leaned forward until his chin was resting in her hair. She never wanted to move.

“I heard some people wondering what you were doing with a guy like me.”

Annoyance flared through her, and she pulled back. “Who said that? They had no right.”

He broke into a smile. “You are so freaking ferocious.” Then the smile faded. “You want to fight everyone’s battles and…I just wasn’t used to it. Here I was thinking Aaron was a douche.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry, you’re not wrong. Yesterday I saw him kissing Cassie Dutch, and today he was hitting on someone else. I should be thanking you for saving me from being on his list.”

“You saved yourself,” he said before reaching past her and shutting the serving window.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I’m making sure we’re not interrupted. There’s one more picture and it’s either going to end well, or…not. I figured it was safer this way.” He unzipped his leather jacket. His T-shirt was navy. The same color as his eyes. And okay, it wasn’t really the most out-there thing she’d ever seen. But for Jackson, who only ever wore white and black, it was something else entirely.

Not to mention that his chest was clearly outlined. And it was a nice chest too. She let out a soft sigh as he slid a final drawing out of an inner pocket of his jacket. He passed it over, his mouth straight with uncertainty.

“Another picture?” Confusion filled her eyes. “All that stuff you were saying about being creepy. This isn’t X-rated is it?”

“I really hope not. The artist in question is only six,” he said.

She unfolded it. His little sister had drawn two stick figures in bright crayons. One with blonde curly hair hanging down around her face, and the other with black hair. They were holding hands, and if she didn’t know better…

“Are we kissing in this?”

“Either that or our faces are melting together,” he said, still not moving. “I might have told her that people who kissed were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“You did not.” The tightness lessened in her chest as she took a tiny step forward. Did he really want her to be his girlfriend? “I’ve seen you around Chelsea. She has you wrapped around her finger. You probably promised her I was your girlfriend.”

A smile tugged at his mouth, and he stepped toward her, his eyes never letting her go. “I wouldn’t say I promised,” he corrected. “But I might have said I’d try. She and Miss Sparkles thought it was a good idea.”

“Love advice from a green-haired doll?” Frankie let out a little giggle.

“I’m bad at this stuff. I need all the help I can get.”

“I don’t know.” Frankie looked at the drawing Chelsea had done. “You’re not doing too bad.”

He seemed to take that as a sign. A smile played across his mouth. “I know I wasn’t part of your summer plans. And even if you did want to forgive me for being the biggest idiot alive, you probably already have a brand new plan sorted out. Like, in fine detail. But I’m crazy about you, Frankie Hargreaves.”

He was crazy about her?

He wanted her back?

Was it possible to even be this happy?

Then she remembered her own grand gesture. She peered at him through her lashes. “Will you still be crazy about me if I told you I hired the bowling alley for two hours? For the two of us.”

His eyes widened. “You booked out an entire bowling alley. Just for me?”

“Go big or go home,” she reminded him.

“Fortune favors the bold,” he replied as his breath brushed her cheek. “So, you were going to ask me out on a date?”

She nodded. “I still am. Though it’s surprisingly hard without a plan. I was going to wing it.”

“Now that I need to see.”

“Oh, really,” she said, a bubble of joy catching in her chest. “Jackson, would you please, please, please come bowling with me? I figured if I hired it out, then nothing could mess it up. It will just be us.”

“I’d love to go bowling with you. But I swear that nothing can mess it up, wherever we are. I’m not that guy anymore.”

She pressed her brows together as she drank in his beautiful face. “I hope he isn’t gone completely. I kind of liked him. Especially when—”

The rest of her words were cut off as his mouth found hers.

His lips were soft, and his faint stubble rubbed her skin. She let out a groan as his hands tightened around hers.

“Yeah…he’s still here,” she finally managed to say before he drew her back in again. Somewhere outside Rosie a customer was politely knocking on the door. They ignored it.

Kissing Jackson was better than anything she could have planned. So much better.

Epilogue

Two months later

“I’ve got to admit this was a great date idea.” Via joined Frankie at the table where boxes of pizza were laid out, along with plates of Lo’s mouthwatering baking.

“What is?” Frankie took a slice of pepperoni and cheese. “Going bowling, or inviting everyone to come with us, then plying them with food?”

“Both.” Via grinned. It had been two months since the first time Frankie had rented out the alley, and while initially it was just for herself and Jackson, like the best plans, their future visits had been different.

Chelsea had wanted to join them, and it would have been crazy to take her without Jackson’s mom. It had been so much fun they’d done it again the following week. By then, Lo was back on her feet, and she and Johnny had tagged along. Not to mention Via and Hudson Trent, who her best friend was now dating.

They both turned to where a tall guy with pale brown hair was watching intently as Johnny did his run-up.

“Well, it’s been pointed out to me that it was a bit over the top for a date,” Frankie admitted as she chewed on her pizza. “It’s just as much fun with everyone.”

The rattle of falling pins and bowling balls rolling down the lanes filled the air.

“And thank goodness. Who knew Hudson would like it so much? I thought he spent all his time studying.” Her cheeks heated up as Johnny got another strike, and he gave Hudson a consolation pat on the back. “One day Johnny might even stop wiping the floor with him.”

“What would be the fun in that?” Frankie grinned.

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” Jackson said as he appeared. He was wearing faded jeans, and his T-shirt was a soft hue of green. He was never going to break out into loud prints, but he’d come a long way. He grinned at Via. “Frankie humiliated me the first time we came bowling.”

“Please, tell me about it.” Via rolled her eyes. “Did she do that dance thing?”

“Hey,” Frankie protested. “That’s a legitimate victory celebration. Not my fault neither of you can bowl.”

“I have other talents. Such as hiding up trees and kissing cute boys.” Via shrugged as she stood up and walked to Hudson, whose bowling ball promptly went into the gutter. He didn’t seem to care.

Once Via was gone, Jackson’s hand found Frankie’s. Her stomach fluttered. He was the same guy she’d first met, but there were differences. He smiled all the time. She’d even once caught him grinning at Aaron Tremain. Which, okay, was a bit weird, but it was the only blip. In every other way he was the perfect boyfriend.

“You know I was joking about that dance, right? I like it. A lot.”

“So you’ve been checking me out?” She leaned closer, breathing him in. “That could be seen as creepy.”

“Seems to be a side effect of dating you. Is that a problem?” His face inched toward her, a smile hovering on his mouth. She wasn’t going to get tired of it anytime soon.

“I guess you have to take the good with the bad.” She gave a mock shrug.

“Know when to pick your battles,” he countered, his breath now skimming her cheek. Her eyes fluttered, and Jackson gave her a wicked smile. “Are you even listening to me? I could be telling you something vitally important.”

“Then you shouldn’t do it while you’re so close,” she chided as his other hand found hers. The butterflies turned to fireworks.

“I stand corrected.” His laugh was a low rumble and this time his mouth found hers and she forgot how to spell her own name.

Kissing a bad boy was better than she ever could have dreamed.

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Thank you so much for reading How to Kiss a Bad Boy. I had so much fun writing this book, and I really hope you enjoyed Frankie and Jackson’s story.

While I worked on this book, I kept wondering what Frankie’s best friend, Via was getting up to at Camp Doom so I decided to write a novella and find out!

How to Kiss Your Enemy is the result, and when you sign up to my newsletter, you will receive it for FREE!

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Also by Amanda Ashby

How to Kiss Your Fake Date

Coming December 2019

He’s so out of her league

Sixteen-year-old activist, Norah Richmond wants to save the world, one toilet at a time. Problem is it’s hard to get people interested in helping with sanitation in struggling countries, and the fundraising is going badly. Until her crush, Zac Mackenzie literally crashes into her life.

Everyone knows he’s a serial flirt, but when he offers to help out, she agrees because it’s all about the big picture. There’s just one little hitch. In exchange he needs her to be his fake girlfriend.

Soccer star, Zac’s having a really bad day. Benched by the coach, he needs to prove he’s reformed. And what better way to do it than with a brand new girlfriend? Plus if it means he can help Norah to save the world, that’s even better.

He soon discovers there’s more to the unassuming Norah than he knew. Problem is she only sees him as one of her projects. And for the for the first time in his life, Zac realizes he’s playing a game he can’t possibly win.

Acknowledgments

Once again I tip my hat to Karen and Sally, who have been there from the very beginning. What an adventure we’ve all had! Also to the utterly brilliant Rachel Bailey who loves talking about Buffy and Jane Austen as much as I do. Sometimes we even brainstorm!

Thanks to everyone on my advanced reader team for all the amazing feedback and comments. I appreciate it so much.

This book wouldn’t have been possible without the help of my husband who has supported me every step of the way! And to my teenage kids who let me eavesdrop on their conversations far too much!

And mega thanks to Hannah Amante, Amy Hart, Barry Holt, and Christina Phillips.

About the Author

Amanda Ashby was born in Australia but now lives in New Zealand where she writes romance, young adult and middle grade books.

She has a degree in English and Journalism from the University of Queensland, and when she’s not writing, she also works as a librarian.

She’s written over twenty books and is an Amazon bestseller. Her debut release was nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award, while her first young adult book was listed by the New York Public Libraryʼs Stuff for the Teen Age.  Because she’s mysterious she also writes middle grade books under the name, Catherine Holt and hopes that all this writing won’t interfere with her Netflix schedule.

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