Dreaming at Seaside (Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers #2)

Still here. Leaving soon to go to Bobby’s.

Caden texted him back. I’m here. Meet by snack bar in twenty mins?

He stepped from the patrol car and scanned his surroundings. A woman wearing shorts and a blue bathing suit stretched tight over her muffin top waved at him as he crossed the parking lot.

“Officer, they took my wallet and cell phone,” the woman said frantically. Her wet, dark hair stuck to her flailing arms. “I can’t believe it. All my contacts, my calendar, my life is on that phone.”

“Ma’am, slow down. I’m Officer Grant, and I’ll be happy to take the report.”

“Thank you. I just can’t believe my stuff is gone. I mean, really? I’m at the beach, for Pete’s sake. Who steals from people at the beach?”

Caden peered into the car. “Was the car locked at the time?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I didn’t want to lose my keys on the beach.”

Of course you didn’t. Caden had long ago stopped being surprised by the na?veté of people. “Tourist towns are prime targets for thefts. I’d suggest that you keep your vehicle locked from now on.”

He jotted down the license plate number and the make of the vehicle.

“I’ve been coming to the Cape forever, and there has never been any crime.”

Caden scanned the parking lot as she blew off steam, ranting about how little respect people had for others. He spotted Evan and a group of kids unlocking their bikes from the bike rack by the snack bar. He took the report as quickly as he could and wondered how many more would roll in before the end of the evening. Then he went to talk to Evan.

Evan and a handful of friends sat on their bikes, front tires angled toward one another in a circle. Two of the boys carried towels around their necks, and three wore backpacks strapped to their backs. They were all laughing as he approached.

“Evan.” The laughter silenced, and Caden sized up the group. They looked to be between fourteen and sixteen—hard to tell at that age. Mike and another boy shifted their eyes away again.

“Hey,” Evan said.

Hey? Not, Hey, Dad? That rubbed Caden the wrong way, but he cut Evan slack again and chalked it up to the whole cool image thing boys went through at his age.

“What’s your plan?” Caden asked with a tone that was more serious than he’d have used if Evan were by himself.

Evan shrugged. “We’re going to hang out at Bobby’s.”

Bobby looked over at the sound of his name and nodded. “Hey, Mr. Grant.”

“How’s it going, Bobby?”

“It’s cool,” he answered with another nod.

Caden sensed the boys watching him. Thinking of what Kristie had said, he slid the other boys a serious stare followed by a smile.

“I’m Evan’s father,” he said to two boys he hadn’t met.

“I’m Brett,” the blond boy said.

“David,” the darker-haired boy said.

He picked up on their bouncing legs and glanced at Evan again. Caden was used to kids being nervous around him when he was in uniform, but it had been a very long time since he’d had to evaluate kids he didn’t know as friends for his son, and he found himself scrutinizing every twitch.

“Hey, Ev, come talk to me for a minute.” He lifted his chin and indicated for Evan to walk with him.

Evan climbed off his bike with a tortured sigh.

Caden waited until they were far enough away from the others to talk to him. He set a narrow-eyed stare on his son to let him know he was serious, but spoke with his normal fatherly tenderness.

“How’s it going?”

Evan shrugged. “Fine.”

“Did you have fun at the beach?”

“Yeah.” Evan watched a girl walk by.

“Ev, I’m in a weird position here. I don’t know these guys, but I’m getting a funny vibe. Should I be worried?”

Evan’s eyes tracked another bikini-clad girl. “No.”

Caden touched his shoulder to draw his eyes to his. “Look me in the eye.”

Evan met his gaze; the muscle in his jaw clenched.

“If you tell me these guys are good kids, I’ll trust your word, but if they’re trouble, you know our deal.”

Evan rolled his eyes.

“I want to hear it.” He’d drilled a very simple—and in his eyes, freeing—rule into Evan’s head since he was a little boy. Through the years, Evan had always lived up to his side of the deal, and Caden had lived up to his side, too.

“Come on, Dad.” Evan shifted from one foot to the other.

“Don’t come on, Dad me. You’re going through a big transition with a new town, new school, new friends.”

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t need this shi—stuff.”

Caden’s gut clenched. He shot a look over his shoulder and didn’t like the way the other boys were watching them like hawks. He hated to do it, but he drew upon the deep, fatherly voice he rarely needed to rely on with Evan.

“That’s exactly why you need this stuff. You tell me the deal and that you still respect it, or you can get on that bike and head home. And before you say anything, know that your word is about the only thing that matters. I’m on your side, Ev.”

“Yeah, right.” Evan kicked at the ground.

He crossed his arms and set an icy stare on his all-too-adolescent son. “Yeah, right? I’ve never been anything but on your side.” Caden knew things had been brewing between them for a while, but this was not the time or the place he wanted them to come to a head.

Evan flashed his own icy stare. “If you were on my side, we would have stayed in Boston.”

Caden held his stare. He hated this push-pull, and he’d fooled himself into thinking that maybe they’d avoided it altogether. That maybe if he was a good enough dad, they’d make it through Evan’s teenage years unscathed. George had warned him enough times that he was living in a dream world with that notion, and he’d brushed off George’s comments because George wasn’t Caden, and Caden believed that his dedication to Evan would make their relationship different from any other parent-teenager relationship.

Boy, had he been wrong.

“Fine,” Evan relented. “The deal is, if I tell you the truth, no matter what it is, you won’t punish me, but if I lie or hide the truth, I’ll get nailed. Satisfied?”

He hated having to tighten the reins, but the challenge in Evan’s eyes told him it was time.

“New rule. Home by ten.”

“But—”

“Evan, this isn’t a negotiation. Home by ten o’clock. Off the streets and inside someone’s home by nine. I want to know where you are at nine, and I want to receive a phone call at ten telling me you’re at home, not a text. Got it?”