Page 7 of Seven Summers Ago
Jack
No shit?
It’s shocking to me too. That I got the nerve to ask and that I asked in the first place. I can’t remember the last time I went on a real date.
Maybe it was the shitshow with Stella’s cousin, Daisy. I never should’ve agreed to the date in the first place. We were too good of friends and too much alike. But Stella had been persistent. And after she let it slip that Rosie was dating a rich suit in Seattle, I told her to set up the double date. After a desperate and embarrassing makeout session, Daisy and I decided to just be friends.
Unlatching my surfboard from the roof rack, I haul it under my arm and start down the pathway to the beach. I hadn’t planned on surfing tonight, but I have an itch that needs scratching. And it was either this or going home to jerk off in the shower while fantasizing about the same woman for the thousandth time.
The tide is going back out, elongating the beach. The ocean glows from the full moon’s reflection. I still can’t decide if I prefer seeing it like this or in the daylight when the seagulls are flying overhead and the surf shines golden from sun.
I don’t get to the beach at night much these days. Even if it is a matter of feet from most places in town. Golden Harbor is growing. Lucky for me, my construction business is growing too. My specialty is framing new houses and remodeling and preserving what’s already here. I don’t typically take on work outside of my wheelhouse, but I did it on Dottie’s cottage as a favor. She was a longtime friend. Some might even call her family.
My brain switches to Rosie. Much like it does whenever I think about Dottie. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve never met the love of my life. But who meets their soulmate at sixteen and stays together forever?
Jogging into the waves, I set my board in and hop onto it, lying flat on my belly. I scoop my arms through the water and paddle fast and hard. Pushing images of Rosie away with each stroke. Her green eyes glittering when I made her laugh, her beautiful auburn hair splayed across my chest, her hips spread while she straddled and thrust against me.
After I catch a few good ones, the water engulfs me once and that’s enough for me—I’m done. I prop my board in the sand and drop down beside it to catch my breath. Surfing settled the heaviness in my chest, but my mind is still too busy, whirling with endless thoughts of what might’ve been.
“Beck?”
My shoulders tense as I jerk my head to glance over my shoulder. It’s been so long since I heard the sound of my name from that mouth you’d think I’d forgotten it. But no, you don’t forget the voice of your soulmate.
Or…your wife.
Narrowing my eyes, I clamber to my feet and try not to stare at her when I finally find my voice. “Hey, Rosie.”
3
ROSIE
Running into Beck the first night I’m back in Golden Harbor was not part of my plan. I had hoped it wouldn’t happen until the memorial. But here he is. Sitting on the beach next to his surfboard near Dottie’s cottage, watching the waves crash in the dark with nothing more than the light from the moon and stars to guide him.
When he stands and turns, the sight of him steals my breath. He’s not the young man I remember. At thirty years old, his shoulders are broader. He’s let his facial hair grow out and his dark brown hair is damp and in waves. And when he says “Hey, Rosie,” my knees nearly buckle.
“What are you doing here?” My words come out accusative without intention. It’s not like I own the beach.
As he shuffles toward me, closing the distance between us, his bare chest and sculpted abs slice into view. His arms are out of his wetsuit, and it’s bunched around his waist, showing off his defined biceps. His eyes are darker than I remember, the light from the moon shining in the brown. “I should ask you the same thing,” he growls back.
I don’t like the insinuation in his tone. Pinching my brows tight, I tilt my chin. “Seriously? That’s a stupid question. I came for Dottie’s memorial,” I snap. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”
“Hell, Rosie. I don’t know.” He hunches his shoulders. “This is the first I’ve seen you back in Golden Harbor in seven years.”
Almost seven. But who’s counting?
“Dottie meant everything to me. You know that.” I glare, crossing my arms tight.
“Everything? Ha,” he barks, throwing back his head dramatically. “Yeah? Then where’ve you been all these years?”
I stomp toward him and stop when he’s only a few feet from me. His chiseled pecs only distract me from my irritation momentarily. “I called Dottie every week.”
“Okay. And what about after her stroke? Where were you then?” He’s close enough now I can see his brown eyes widen with challenge.
“I couldn’t come. I had responsibilities. She knew that.”
“Whatever,” he mutters, shrugging his broad shoulders again as he walks back toward his surfboard. “What do I care. But sounds like excuses to me.”
“What do you know about responsibilities?” I bite out with his back facing me.
