Page 13 of One Happy Summer

“Just . . . life,” I tell him. I have no intention of cluing him in to my big blunder.

“Well, you picked a great place to hide,” Briggs says.

I nod. “I’m not doing the best job of it, though,” I say, holding up the bag containing my wet shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says, looking chagrined.

“It’s not all your fault—I was trying to get myself back to the resort before anyone else saw me. I just needed to escape for a minute. I was restless.”

He gives me an understanding nod. “How long have you been in town?”

“Three days.”

He chuckles. “Three days?”

“I’m not good at staying put.”

He gives me a closed-mouth smile. “I get that.”

I lick my lips before asking him the next question, feeling slightly nervous about it. I don’t know why; I guess it’s the anticipation of his answer. I don’t expect him to say no, but I don’t know if I’ll believe him when he says yes.

“Could you . . . would you mind not saying anything to anyone? About me being here?”

“Of course,” he says without even the slightest hesitation, and I smile because I believe him. In a business where you’re basically taught by experience to trust no one, and after finding out recently who my true friends are (the answer is: I don’t have any), it’s an odd feeling to trust this guy so quickly. But I do.There’s something in those green eyes of his that just looks trustworthy.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling relieved.

He fiddles with one of the arms on his glasses, his forehead creasing. “Actually, I think people might already know,” he says.

“Really?” A feeling of dread fills my stomach.

“My mom said she saw you outside the bookshop.”

“That was your mom?” I ask, remembering the flustered-looking woman who did a double take when I passed her on the sidewalk.

Crap. I knew she’d recognized me.

“She said she’d heard a rumor you were here and staying at the Belacourt Resort.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. “Word does spread fast around here.”

“Great,” I say. “Well, serves me right for going to a small island.” I guess I can’t beat myself up for leaving my room today if people were already talking. I wonder who’s spreading the news? Noah? That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.

“I might be able to help,” Briggs offers.

“How so?”

He lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “A lot of people come through the bookstore. I can shoot down any rumors I might hear there and when I’m out and about.”

“You’d do that?”

He smiles. “Of course.”

“Would it work?”

“Possibly. Like I said, word travels fast. If I tell people it’s not you, that will spread as well.”

“Briggs, that would be so amazing.” A little tiny voice in the back of my head wonders if Briggs would be so willing to help out if he knew why I’m hiding. Probably not.

“Well, thank you so much for the shirt,” I tell him.

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