Page 136 of Every Summer Since
We drifted into the first shop without planning to. It was one of those places that sold everything at once—local jewelry, candles, beach gear, postcards. Summer picked up a small ceramic thing shaped like a wave and turned it over in her hands. I watched her put it back and move to the next display.
There was a rack of swimwear near the back. I drifted toward it, drawn to an iridescent bikini that reminded me of a mermaid tail.
“What are you doing?” she asked from somewhere behind me.
“Looking.” I held it up and looked at it and then looked at her over the top of the rack.
She raised her eyebrows. “No.”
“We’re getting this.”
“I don’t need a new bikini.”
“You don’t need it,” I agreed, pulling it off the rack. “I want to see you in it.”
“Baby, there’s not much to see. It’s very tiny.”
I carried it up to the counter. Summer was biting her lower lip the way she did when she was trying not to smile.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It’s me that’s going to be thankingyou,” I said. “And then when I take it off you and make you scream, you can thank me.”
She laughed and looped her arm through mine as we headed back toward the parking lot, our bags swinging between us. We were dropping off our bags and heading back for more shopping.
I was thinking about what else I could put her in. Maybe more of that lingerie. A sharp intake of breath from Summer beside me brought me back to the moment.
“Oh shit,” she murmured.
I looked at what had her cursing.
My car was covered in paint.
“Colt,” Summer said.
“I see it.”
A small crowd had already gathered on the sidewalk around the lot, people stopping and pointing and pulling out their phones. I heard a woman saying something to the man beside her. I heard my name.
Then I heard the horn.
At the far end of the lot, a familiar car with blacked-out windows was speeding toward the exit of the lot. Two men on foot were standing directly in front of the vehicle with their arms spread wide, not moving. A woman on the sidewalk had stepped off the curb to stand beside them. The car lurched forward an inch with the driver blasting the horn.
Someone threw a large fountain drink directly onto the windshield. It exploded in a spray of ice and dark soda that ran down the glass in sheets. The horn kept going.
I put my arm out in front of Summer and stepped slightly in front of her. She didn’t argue. I felt her hand close around my forearm. The driver’s door swung open.
Judd Mathers stepped out onto the asphalt looking like a man ready for a boxing ring. His face was red. His collar was open. He scanned the parking lot, then found me.
He started across the lot with long strides. He was about to commit at least one felony. Maybe two because of the paint damage and I was absolutely pressing charges. If he wanted to get physical, I was down.
But he didn’t get far.
The crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk moved. A man I recognized as the owner of the hardware store across the street planted himself directly in Judd’s way with his arms foldedacross his chest. More people filtered in from the sidewalk. Ten, then fifteen. All of them standing between me and Judd.
Judd looked around at them with disgust. “Get out of my way,” he said.
Nobody moved. I almost laughed but I heard a deep voice say something. And then someone else repeated it.
