Page 35 of One Happy Summer

“I do feel like a summer gal,” I say, lifting my chin.

“How have you never jumped on a trampoline?”

“Neither of my parents had one, and then there were contracts forbidding it so I didn’t get hurt.”

“I’d never thought of that.”

“I haven’t done a lot of things because of contracts,” I say.

“So I’m guessing you don’t do your own stunts?”

I snort out a laugh. “No way. I mean, I’d love to fall off something onto one of those big, huge, stunt airbags they use. But alas, they’ve never let me do it.”

“Hmm,” Briggs says. “That does sound like fun.”

“Got one of those around here?”

“Sadly, no. It’s a very small island.”

I chortle. “So, what’s next on the list and when can we do it?”

“I have to work for a little bit tomorrow, but I have an idea for the afternoon. Should we say around two?”

I reach up, putting an index finger to my chin. “I better consult my schedule first. I’m very busy, you know.”

“Yeah, right, of course. How silly of me to assume you had nothing to do when you keep telling me you have nothing to do.”

It’s my turn to laugh. Bantering with Briggs might be my new favorite thing.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise, remember?”

“I don’t know why I told you I love surprises the other day. I actually don’t . . . love them.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that. It only makes me want to do it more,” he says. “Just be sure to wear a bathing suit.”

“Something on the beach, then? Wherever will we go to find one around here?”

We both look over as a large wave crashes against the shore, the moon hanging just above it.

Briggs looks to me. “That’s a good question. We’ll just have to make do.”

I feel so light right now, walking toward the resort with Briggs. Lighter than I have in a long time. Like I could float away right now, not feeling that heavy weight I’ve been carrying around for so long, even before that stupid video.

And I think it might all be because of the man walking next to me.

Briggs

I might have toset up some ground rules with Presley.

The first one being that she can’t wear that red bikini ever again.

That’s it. It’s just the one rule. Now to figure out how to tell her that without sounding like a creep.

“I literally have no idea what I’m doing,” she says as she packs sand into a turret-shaped bucket. I grabbed a bunch of supplies from my mom’s house before meeting up with Presley. My mom was more than happy to find them for me, as well as work at the bookshop this afternoon so I could be here. And she agreed to it all with stars in her eyes, which I quickly shot down, but I don’t think she’s buying it.

She’s already started her Presley James is Not at Sunset Harbor campaign, and it must be going well since the bookshop was pretty much dead for most of the day. Which is sort of a double-edged sword, since when it was busy, the shop wasmaking good money. It’s not like the shop is in trouble or anything—it’s just not making a decent profit. My mom never expected it to when she bought it all those years ago, but I don’t want her to end up losing money on it, money she needs for retirement.

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