Secrets in Summer

“Stop.” Nash wasn’t smiling. “Come closer to shore.”


Dread flashed through Darcy.

He read her mind. “No, no shark fins in sight, but you’re still too far out.”

She smiled as she swam back to shore, pleased that Nash cared enough to worry about her, to swim out to her, to frown like that.

“Gosh, my legs are wobbly,” she told Nash. “You’re right, I was too far out.”

She staggered to her blanket and collapsed facedown, grateful for the umbrella’s shade. Sounds drifted toward her—laughter, a baby crying, a seagull squawking as he scanned their group for food to swoop down and steal.

“It’s too hot,” a woman complained. Darcy thought it was pregnant Dee-Dee Folger.

“I agree,” Angelica said. “Packer’s getting cranky, and so am I.”

Darcy opened one eye and looked. Packer, a toddler, was stuffing sand into his mouth with both hands. Angelica tried to distract him with sand toys, the sifter, the molds, the shovel and bucket, but he threw himself backward, wailing, when she took his hands away from his face.

“Come to our house,” Jordan offered. “It’s air-conditioned.”

Someone said, “The three most beautiful words in the English language.” It was a man’s voice, of course it was. A woman would think the three most beautiful words were I love you.

By the time the group had lugged all their stuff back to their vehicles, everyone was grumpy. Nash set the truck’s air-conditioning to high. Darcy leaned her head back against the seat.

“I think I’m going to have a red nose,” she said.

“Probably.”

“I’m glad we’re not staying there all day,” Darcy continued. “It’s muggy today as well as hot. It was like a sauna.”

“Yup.”

Darcy gave Nash a questioning look. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Nash told her. “I’m just hot and tired.”

They parked in front of the Morrises’ house and carried their coolers around to the back door where they rinsed their feet in the outdoor shower before going into the kitchen. Jordan was there, holding Kiks’s feet under the running water in the sink.

“One grain of sand,” Jordan said. “Kiks can spot one grain of sand on a clean field of tile and put it in her mouth. Or her ear.”

Laughing, Darcy helped the others set out the food, utensils, paper napkins. The gang wasted no time loading their paper plates with food and snagging beers. They all went into the den to watch the Red Sox game on TV. After a while, Jordan put Kiks down for a nap and Packer fell asleep on the carpet.

The women sat in the living room, looking at sleeping Packer.

“He looks like an angel,” Missy said wistfully.

“Babies do that, when they’re asleep,” Jordan replied. “It’s a trick to keep you adoring them even after they’ve been acting like little devils.”

“Want to know something?” Dee-Dee asked. “I am having a seriously difficult time. There has been no decent celebrity gossip for weeks!”

Darcy laughed. “Right. Kate Middleton hasn’t fought with the queen and Jennifer Aniston isn’t pregnant with twins.”

“I know!” Missy agreed. She shot an evil grin at Darcy. “You just wait, when you have toddlers, you won’t have time or brain power to read a book. You’ll live for the tabloids at the grocery store.”

“I’m much more intellectual than that,” Jordan joked. “I read People.”

“Ice cream,” Dee-Dee said. “We need ice cream.”

“Yes!” Angelica rose. “Darcy, I’ll dish out the ice cream if you’ll take the plates of brownies and cookies in to the guys.”

“Don’t they get ice cream?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how much we women eat.” Laughing, Angelica led the way into the kitchen.

Darcy headed toward the den with plates of cookies and brownies. She paused in the doorway to keep one plate from tilting, and in that moment, she overheard Nash’s voice.

“Yeah, the house is kind of crummy, but I’m tired of throwing my money away on rent. This way I’ll have my own place and a kind of investment.”

“Smart move, Nash,” Lyle said. “Anything on this island is worth gold.”

Darcy froze. Nash was buying a house?

Why did that make her feel so—anxious? Because he hadn’t told her first? Because he was buying his own place?

Because he didn’t foresee a future with Darcy, living in her gorgeous old home?

“What are you doing? Hurry up!” Dee-Dee appeared behind Darcy, carrying bowls of ice cream. “Let’s give the guys their treats and go back to enjoy our own!” She nudged Darcy with her elbow.

Darcy forced a smile on her face and entered the den. Dee-Dee followed with the ice cream, and Jordan showed up with spoons and forks.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a fog for Darcy. She was curious and hurt and impatient. She wanted to be alone with Nash, to hear him talk about his plan for the future.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Jordan asked as people began to leave.

Darcy shook her head. No way would she tell Jordan how upset she was, not when the men were so near. “I’m just tired,” she explained, shrugging. “I think it’s the heat.”

“I’ll jack up the air-conditioning in my truck,” Nash said, coming up behind Darcy.

Darcy hugged Jordan and walked with Nash to his truck. As they drove toward her house, he was unusually quiet. Darcy didn’t want to ride in silence—that would seem as if she were pouting and, from his point of view, for no reason at all.

“How are the Red Sox doing?” she asked, for the sake of making conversation.

“Lost. I’ll get the postgame report.” Nash punched the radio on and spun the dial until he got to the broadcast.

Okay, Darcy thought. The man doesn’t want to talk to me.

Fine.

When they arrived at her house, she opened the door before the truck came to a complete stop. “Thanks, Nash,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the sportscaster’s.

Nash slammed his foot on the brake and gave her a questioning look.

“I’ve got so much to do,” Darcy told him. She carefully shut the truck door, did an abrupt about-face, and strode to her front door. She didn’t look back to see his reaction.

The moment she was inside, she reached into her pocket for her phone and hit Jordan’s number. Then she canceled the call. Jordan would be dealing with Kiks now. She’d be carrying glasses, bottles, and plates into the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, savoring some quiet moments with Lyle. They might be trading news they’d heard that day, Jordan from the women, Lyle from his buddies.

Lyle might tell Jordan that Nash was buying a property, and Jordan might call Darcy. Or Lyle might not even think to mention Nash to Jordan. Nash wasn’t the center of the world.

Another woman, braver, stronger in self-confidence, might call Nash right now. She might say, pleasantly, rationally, that she’d overheard Nash telling the men he was buying a house on the island.

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