Bad Boy Summer (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 5) Page 12

  It was the pounding of the surf that lulled her to sleep, the way the bright white moon shone down on the sea during a calm night like a great eye looking in on them from above. It was the smell of suntan oil and grilled fish and the way the ocean made her hair stiff with salt. It was the memories of her childhood summers, all the laugher she’d shared with Liz and Ash and their family. It was saying goodbye to Mrs. Burke. It was falling in love with Ash, and then saying goodbye to him, too.

  And now, it was falling for Ash all over again. Falling for the way his touch turned her inside out with pleasure, the way he seemed to know her like no man ever had or would. Falling for their nights together, making love on the beach and then staying up till sunrise talking about anything and everything and nothing all at once—their dreams, the constellations, jellyfish and surfers and photography and the gray slush of a New York winter. Ash had told her he was thinking about staying in California after the beach house sold, thinking about getting certified so he could do more contract work—a job that would allow him to stay close to Liz. Pam had admitted she wanted to take more photography classes, maybe look into something when she got back home. All of these things they’d shared, And all of these things made Pam realize how much she’d missed being part of Ash and Liz’s lives.

  Yes, New York was the center of her chosen field. But California was the center of her heart, and the longer she stayed here, the more she began to doubt whether she'd ever feel a connection to New York again.

  Whether she even wanted to try.

  But she didn't know how to explain all of that to Liz just yet—especially the part about Ash—so instead she offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile and said, “I'll figure it out. Don't worry.”

  “You're my best friend, Pam. I always worry about you.”

  Pam squeezed Liz’s hand. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Just promise me you won’t keep this stuff bottled inside,” Liz said. “I'm here. Ash is here. You don't have to do this alone.”

  “Hmm. Does that mean you’ll finish this paper for me?”

  Liz laughed. “Economics? No. That you definitely have to do alone. I meant the emotional support part.”

  “I know.” Pam tugged on Liz’s braid, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, aren’t you cutesy-cutesy this morning? Early date with Luke?”

  “Actually, no. He’s on duty today.” Liz stood up and held out her hand, offering a tentative smile. “I was hoping for a date with you. Just the two of us.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Beachcomber has a killer omelette bar and bottomless mimosas,” Liz said. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into playing hooky for a little while?”

  Pam glanced at the package on her desk, wondering if she should hang back and get to work—her default mode. But if she was looking for a sign from the universe, she got it. The package filled her with a sense of dread—one that was starting to feel a little too familiar. In contrast, the idea of breakfast with her best friend at the restaurant down shore had Pam feeling light and—dare she say it?—hopeful.

  Without another thought for Ferguson or the stock market or the mess of her thesis, Pam grabbed the camera off the desk, then reached up and took Liz’s hand, her smile big and bright. “Girl, you had me at bottomless mimosas.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the fourth time in an hour, Ash headed out to the deck to scan the beach. It was nearly dinner time, and still no sign of Pam.

  All week, she’d been spending less time working on her paper and more time down on the beach with that camera, and he’d missed her. Missed hearing the click-clack of her keyboard when she locked herself in the bedroom with her laptop. Missed seeing her in the tool belt when she snuck away from her own work to “help” him with the repairs. Missed the fact that he could touch her, kiss her, feel her soft skin whenever she was nearby.

  “Ash?” His sister called out from the kitchen. “Get your ass in here and help me. Fajitas don’t make themselves, you know.”

  He headed back into the kitchen and washed his hands, glad that the new sink pipes were holding up. New disposal seemed to be working, too, assuming no one else put any silverware down there.

  “Where’s Pam?” he asked, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Haven’t seen her all day.”

  “No idea.” Lizzie picked up a bowl full of freshly chopped peppers and onions. “She took the car—said she’d be back for dinner, though.”

  “It’s dinner now. She’s not here.”

  Liz dumped the veggies into a pot of hot oil, stirring them with a spatula as they sizzled and popped. “You’re acting like a puppy who’s owner forgot to feed him. Pass me the cumin. Oh, hot sauce, too.”

  “Something’s up with her, Dizz. I’m telling you.” He dug the cumin out of the spice drawer and handed it over. “You don’t think she’s acting weird?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “She’s blowing off work. That’s not like her.”

  “Shoot, this needs more olive oil.” Liz grabbed the bottle off the counter and drizzled it over the veggies, still stirring. “I think she’s just trying to figure out her shit, which is something maybe you should—”

  “Don’t.” Ash wasn’t ready for this conversation. Probably never would be. He had enough trouble figuring out shit on his own—last thing he needed was his kid sister giving him advice.

  “I’m worried about you, Ash. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Dad, but he’s not saying much, and you’re—”

  “Not getting into this right now.”

  “But don’t you think we should—”

  “Stop talking about this? Yes. Yes I do.” He got the hot sauce from the cupboard and handed it over, flashing her a smile he hoped would settle the matter.

  Liz laughed, rolling her eyes. “Save it for the ladies, dickface. That killer smile doesn’t get you out of trouble with me.”

  “Give it a few more weeks,” Ash said, taking a swig of beer. Liz opened her mouth for a retort, but Ash was spared further torment by the squeak of the mudroom door.

  Finally.

  “I’m back, I’m back! Sorry I’m so late.” Pam floated into the kitchen on a warm breeze, glowing from head to toe. Ash couldn’t remember a time this summer when she’d looked so fucking happy. When he caught her eye, she gave him a sexy smile, all for him.

  That’s my girl.

  “You’ll never believe what I found,” she said, setting her purse on the counter and pulling out a thick white envelope.

  “Office supply store?” Ash said.

  “Oh, there’s one on Oceanview,” she said plainly. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  She waved the envelope in the air.

  “The suspense is killing me,” Ash said.

  She hugged the envelope to her chest, bouncing on her toes. She looked so fucking adorable, it was all Ash could do not to go plant a big fat kiss on her lush little mouth. “I found that old school camera place—the one I used to go to? They’re still there! And they developed the film while I waited!”

  “No wonder you look so damn happy,” Liz said. “If Decker wasn’t up at the vineyard, I’d swear you were having sex.”

  Ash nearly spit out his beer. Pam turned the color of sunset. The veggies hissed and popped on the stove, and still, neither of them said a word.

  “Soooo,” Lizzie said, “can we see them, or is this all part of the suspense?”

  “No! I mean, yes. Of course.” Pam shook her head, avoiding Ash’s eyes. Smart move; one look, and he was pretty sure they’d both crack.

  Liz turned off the burners and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “I haven’t even seen them yet,” Pam said, tearing open the envelope. “I wanted to wait for you guys.”

  The three of them sat at the table, and Pam pulled out a stack of at least a hundred pictures—easily three or four rolls of film right there. Ash and Liz huddled in close as Pam sorted through them, flipping them onto the tabl
e one after the other. The ones on top were the most recent—Ash recognized a few lobster shots she’d taken at dinner last night—so it was like they were reliving the past couple of weeks in reverse.

  Sunsets. Dinners. Kids playing in the sand. Driftwood. Seagulls. Liz. Ash. Half of Pam’s face. Each one was like a little memento of their time here, a perfectly captured slice of summer at Starfish Cove.

  “These are fucking good, Deeds,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.

  Liz nodded. “Seriously. You’ve got some real talent here.”

  “You think?” Pam lit up like a goddamn sunrise. “I mean, you guys aren’t just saying that because you’re my friends? Or because you’re in half the shots?”

  “Hell no,” Ash said.

  Liz agreed. “Pam. You’ve got a real eye for this stuff. I’m not kidding. These are like something out of a magazine.”

  “Stop.” Pam flipped through a few more, totally nervous and cute. “I mean, really?”

  “Deeds. You need me to write it down on a Post-it?” Ash elbowed her. “You’re really fucking good. Deal with it.”

  Pam laughed. They were getting to the end of the stack, the pictures she’d taken of him that day he was working on the sink, shirtless and grimy.

  “Next,” Ash said.

  “Aw, come on.” Liz picked one up for closer inspection. “You can totally use this for your Tinder profile.”

  “I don’t even know what the fuck that is, but I already don’t like it.” He reached in front of Pam and grabbed the photo out of his sister’s hands, shoving it into the pile. “Next.”

  Pam flipped over another one of him under the sink, then one more.

  And then his heart stopped. The girls stopped moving. The world stopped spinning. The ocean stopped churning. And Ash was sucked back in time ten years ago like it was fucking yesterday.

  Mom…

  She sat on the couch in the living room, laughing her ass off, the biggest fucking smile Ash had ever seen. Liz and Ash were sitting on her lap, two big kids as awkward as shit, trying like hell to get their arms around her so Pam could take the picture. None of them could stop laughing long enough to get the pose right.

  Ash remembered it clearly. Lizzie had found some website that showed grown-ass people recreating their baby photos, same poses and everything. One of Mom’s favorite pictures was a shot of him and Liz as toddlers, sitting on her lap on that very couch—she carried it around in her wallet. It’d been Lizzie’s idea to try to recreate the pose, give Mom an updated shot for her wallet. Mom ate it up—she loved that shit.

  Ash traced his finger over his mother’s face, the pressure building behind his eyes. Fuck, he missed her. Missed that smile. Missed that crazy sense of humor. Missed her hugs.

  A week after that photo was taken, their mother was out looking for sea glass when she suddenly collapsed, right there on the beach. Ended up in the emergency room, then transferred down to their home hospital in San Diego. The rest of them packed up that very night, cut the trip short and headed home. That’s when his father broke the news that she’d been sick for years. That according to the docs, things would progress quickly from then on out.

  He was right. She died a month later.

  Ash looked around the kitchen now, taking it all in again like he had on his first day back. His mother had always loved this kitchen—sunny yellow walls, white cupboards, blue-and-white towels. She spent a lot of time in here, cooking up a feast every summer night. She used to tell them it was good practice for when she finally got some grandkids; that someday, she’d be cooking for twice as many people, enjoying every damn bit of it, too.

  Growing up, Ash had never given it much thought—just assumed it would be like his mom had always wanted. That he and Liz would be coming back here every summer as adults, bringing their own rug rats with them. Back then, he used to think their biggest problem would be fitting all of them under the same roof without killing each other.

  But now, less than ten years later, his mother was gone. He hadn’t had more than a handful of conversations with his father—and none of them about anything substantial. He was hoping to stick around Cali after the remodel, find some work that would keep him local. But he wasn’t sure his father even wanted him around, and Liz had her own life. Even though she’d forgiven him, Ash suspected that issue wasn't completely resolved.

  And as for Deeds… fuck. What could he even say? New York was 3,000 miles across the damn continent, and she was booked on a flight home in three days. He could barely think about it without feeling that vice grip in his chest.

  He glanced down at the photo again, his heart cracking right in half. But as much as the photo broke him, somehow it stitched him back together again, too. His mother was beautiful. So fucking happy. And she’d made their lives a joy, start to finish.

  Ash could almost hear her laughing. Smell her lilac perfume. Feel her hand on his back as he tried to balance on her lap. Everything real and beautiful and special about his mother was right there in that photo, and Pam had captured it perfectly.

  That moment on the couch was all but forgotten until right this moment, and looking at that photo… it felt like his mother was stopping by to say hello.

  Liz rose from the table, sticking the picture on the fridge with a lobster magnet. It was the perfect spot, right in the middle of all the other pictures from their summers together, front and center with all the people she’d loved and cared for.

  “Well,” Liz said, finally breaking the silence. “One thing I know about Mom? She would not want us sitting around Summerland crying into our beers when there’s perfectly good Mexican food on the stove.”

  “You got that right.” Ash laughed and lifted up his beer, swallowing the lump in his throat. “To Mom.”

  “May she never run out of magic, ocean views, or guacamole.” Liz grabbed her wine, and the three of them clinked their glasses.

  After the toast, Pam put the rest of the photos away while Ash helped Liz transfer the veggies and chicken into ceramic bowls, setting them on the table with all the fixins—corn tortillas, fresh tomatillo salsa, shredded cheddar, sour cream, guacamole, extra hot sauce, the works.

  It was a damn fine feast, made even better by the fact that Ash was sharing it with the two most important women in his life, and the feeling deep in his bones that somewhere, somehow, Mom was looking down on them, smiling that big-ass smile of hers.

  Didn’t matter that Summerland would be on the market soon, that Pam was heading back to New York in a few days, that Liz would be teaching again down in San Diego next month, that Ash had no idea where things stood with the old man.

  All that mattered right now was just that—right now.

  And right now, everything was damn near perfect.

  Chapter Twenty

  After another late night with the girls, Ash couldn’t wait to get Pam alone again. But when she finally wandered out of her bedroom and joined him on the deck, it was already half past midnight, and she was fully dressed, all wrapped up in baggy sweats and purple NYU hoodie.

  “Hey you.” Pam slid the door shut behind her and crawled into his lap on the beach chair, snuggling against his chest. She felt so fucking right in his arms—like she belonged there. Somewhere along the line, this thing between them had gone from hot sex to something much bigger, but so far neither of them had had the balls to bring it up.

  No point, really—Ash knew that. And he’d tried to keep his heart out of it, to just enjoy that red-hot sex, the chemistry between them even more off the fucking charts than it had been when they were younger. But just when he thought he had it right in his head, she’d come out here and do something like this, cuddling up in his arms, making him feel things he had no damn business feeling.

  “You’re late,” he said, setting his beer on the table and kissing the top of her head. “Lucky someone else didn’t come along with a better offer.”

  Pam laughed, a damn beautiful sound he was getting entirely too used to he
aring. “Do you get many offers from women wandering the beach at night?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Well, let me make it up to you.” She tilted her face toward his, threading her hands into his hair and pulling him in for a sweet, sultry kiss. Her lips were so warm and soft, her velvet tongue sliding into his mouth, teasing him with every stroke. He went from zero to hard in an instant.

  “I see that had the desired effect.” Pam shifted in his lap, straddling him. Even through her baggy sweats, Ash could feel her insatiable heat. But despite her body’s signals, despite her easy laughter, Ash could tell her mind was somewhere else.

  He stroked her hair, wrapping his hand around the back of her head and giving her a gentle squeeze. Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “You gonna tell me what’s going on in here, or do I have to squish it out of you?”

  Pam shook her head and sighed. “No squishing required. I think… I think I took a wrong turn.”

  “From the bedroom to here?” he asked, but when he pulled back and saw the serious look in her eyes, he stowed the cocky smirk. “What happened?"

  “Do you remember that first day in the kitchen, when you asked if I was happy in New York?”

  Ash nodded. He couldn’t forget it—it was their first real conversation alone, Pam standing there in the tool belt, looking sexy as hell. He’d managed to say all the wrong things, yet she’d still ended up kissing him later.

  “Well, I’m not,” she said. “Not even close.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She tugged the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands, balling them against his chest. “I hate my job, Ash. I’m good at it, but I hate it. Hate my program. Hate my advisor. Other than the food, I basically hate everything about New York.”