Summer Girl - A.S. Green Page 0,114

heard.”

“Coming home?” My voice goes up an extra octave. Strange, but I’ve come to think of the lighthouse as my home. And now I’m being evicted?

“Yep. Your paycheck has been on hold for you at the post office, so you can pick that up this afternoon. But more importantly, you’ve got to make a decision, D’Arcy.”

“I do?” My head is filled with a rushing sound as if someone is holding a seashell to my ear.

“Mmm-hmm.” His fingers stroke my arm, ending at my hand, letting my fingers slip through his. He pushes his hips against mine, and I’m instantly wet for him. Again. “You’ve got to decide where you’re going to sleep tomorrow night, and hopefully all the nights after that.”

Before I can give him the answer he already knows, Mr. March calls out, “Bennet? Anybody seen him?”

Bennet whispers, “Stay put for a sec,” then he opens the door to the storage room. A band of light hits the workbench. He snags up my ripped panties and shoves them in his back pocket, stepping out into the open room.

“Here I am,” Bennet responds with no hint of embarrassment or apology. “Need help unloading the firewood?”

“If you don’t mind,” Mr. March grumbles, and the two of them head outside.

A few seconds later I step out of the closet and watch Bennet walk away, his jeans ride low on his hips. His lumberjack shirt is halfway untucked. My brain scrambles to catch up.

Natalie comes to stand by me. “You’ve got a wet, mouth mark on your shirt.”

Crap. I cross my arms over the evidence of Bennet’s attentions. I should go home and get some new underwear, too.

The barn is really taking shape. The columns are up now, and it looks more like a Greek forum than it did before Bennet arrived. I don’t think Natalie has anything to worry about. But then a roll of thunder threatens in the distance, and her eyes go wide with panic.

Bennet reenters the barn and notices Natalie’s expression. “Settle down,” he says, laughing at her in that way that says all will be well. Whatever hostility there had been between them this morning, it’s gone now, at least for Bennet. “The storm is way north of us. You wait. Tonight will be perfect.”

Natalie tightens her lips like she’s not ready to be pacified, but he gives her a chuck on the shoulder, and she softens. “You better be right, ferryman,” she says with a sigh. “You better be right.”

Chapter Fifty-One

Katherine

On the way home from the barn, I stop at the post office to collect my paycheck. It’s now stowed safely in my suitcase, leaving the rest of my afternoon free to master the draping and tying of the world’s most perfect toga. If only I could figure out how to make it not so tight.

I hop, two footed, to the mirror to see how I look. Not bad. Fairly authentic. I adjust the bottom to give myself a little more slack without ruining the overall effect. Better. But it needs something.

I slap my leg to call for Lucy. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Lucy follows eagerly, her ears alert.

The air is cooler now. Summer is coming to a close. With Calloway already on his way home, I won’t be the summer girl much longer. I will be Katherine D’Arcy, college senior, future professional party planner, unexpected dog-person, lover of Bennet, and captain of my ship.

I breathe in the cool, crisp air, the clean scent of the lake mingled with the smell of ash as the breeze picks through the remnants of our old campfire. I think of my little house. I love its rugged exterior and its plaster walls that aren’t quite plumb, the peeling paint, and the sound of the wind as it whistles through its leaky windows. I love the spooky groaning of the widow’s walk and the friends who stroll through the front door—especially those who never knock. In a handful of hours, I will be a trespasser here. It won’t be mine anymore. A small sigh escapes my lips. Little Bear has grown on me.

Lucy and I spend the next hour climbing on the bank (as best I can). I pick wildflowers and comb the sand for beach glass. The wind blows my hair into a wild tangle, and I fashion a wreath of bright orange flowers, circling them around my head. When I’m done, my face is flushed and I feel wild and free and even beautiful.

Lucy, on the

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