Page 55 of Rebel Summer

“It’s fine,” I cut her off and moved into the family room at the front of the house to wait. It would be fine. He wouldn’t know I was wearing this. I wasn’t coming back to the house. I was planning to have Lucas drop me off at the duplex.

A moment later, I sat across from the faux fireplace, waiting for my date to show up. My attention drifted toward the fake fireplace. My mom had been big into interior design, and she loved to comment on how it centered the room. More than that, it provided a mantel for our family’s trophy pictures in various frames. And suddenly, our fake mantel became filled with images designed to impress. The pictures looked different now with my mom gone, but there were still moments I recognized from my childhood.

There was a younger version of my dad dressed in his usual suit and tie with a wide grin on his face shaking the hand of the governor of Florida as a state representative years ago. There was me in a cap and gown, graduating with my doctorate. But it was the picture of my dad and me smiling on our vacation to Myrtle Beach years ago that held my gaze. I had been in middle school at the time. My mom had orchestrated the photo, telling us to awkwardly press our cheeks together while the sun lit the backdrop behind us. A gust of wind had blown sand in my eyes seconds before the shot. But the picture had been great of my dad, so my mom paid someone to photoshop a happier face onto mine—one where it didn’t look like I had been crying and wiping at my eyes. Only the photoshopped edges didn’t quite line up. And my dad’s eyes didn’t quite shine.

My mom had been the first to shatter the illusion of our family by leaving. Her departure and request for divorce had shocked the island. My dad had been in a horrible mood for an entire year after that. It felt strange to be here without her, to have another woman occupy her space, but our broken family seemed more authentic than the image we’d shown the island when my mom was still here.

The doorbell rang, and I opened the door to a medium-built body and a good-looking face with a smooth smile. He was over-dressed in slacks and a white shirt and tie, and upon seeing me, he stepped back to linger appreciatively at my tanned, bare legs.

“Hi,” I said, feeling relief when his eyes finally met mine.

“Hey there.” His voice was low with a deep Southern drawl.

“I’m Ivy.” I held out my hand, which he held, not shook, in a way that sent my skin crawling.

“Lucas Forester, nice to meet you. I heard you’re going to take care of me tonight.”

Ew.

I pulled my hand from his and smiled tightly. “I’ve been assigned to show you the island and take you out to dinner.”

“My kind of woman.” He smiled and stepped aside, his arm sweeping toward the driveway. “Shall we?”

I closed the door and stepped in front of him on the small sidewalk leading to his parked golf cart. A quick glance over my shoulder told me he was indeed checking me out from behind. Perhaps I should have gone with the plunging neckline of the dress.

“You driving or me, darlin’?”

“It’s Ivy,” I told him again. “And you can drive.”

I spent the next half hour politely pumping him with useless information about the island. To be fair, I did make an attempt at being charming. I pointed out the nature preserve, our beautiful town square, my own Sunrise Cafe, mentioning that it was a local favorite and home of the famous Gator n’ Eggs breakfast platter. I channeled my dad’s salesmanship and became an expert at flourishing statements with very little substance. The more I spoke, the less he attempted to speak, which suited me fine. A few minutes into our drive, my phone buzzed in my purse on my lap, and I snuck a peek.

DAX

Where you at, Books?

ME

On a date.

DAX

Larry finally convinced you?

I smiled and glanced up to see Lucas watching me.

“That a boyfriend?” Lucas asked, nodding toward my phone.

“Sorry. No. I was supposed to be somewhere tonight, but I forgot to let them know I wouldn’t make it. I’m almost finished.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

I picked up my phone once more, angling away slightly so Lucas couldn’t glance down and see what I was typing.

ME

I wish. A politician’s son needed a babysitter tonight.

DAX

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