Page 46 of Mr. July

“Looking for something?”

I turned, out of breath but he stole what was left of it completely away. Another firework exploded, lighting up the sky behind him. I gasped as it illuminated his face. He was more tan than his picture, making his eyes stand out. Barefoot in a pair of chino shorts paired with a white T-shirt he was perfection. He reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair that stuck to my sweaty cheek aside. His brief touch felt like a thunderbolt.

“Daisy.”

“Hi, Daisy.”

I pushed the rest of my hair off my face, feeling my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. I reached for the dog and he placed her in my arms.

“Let me get you some water.”

“No, please. I’m fine.”

“Your friend looks like he could use some.”

“It’s a she.”

“Ah, I have a bad habit of assuming sexes.”

What was left of my brain short circuited. My calendar guy just said the word sex in a sentence. As I held Daisy in my arms, I felt her ribs heaving as she panted. Even with the ocean breeze, it was a hot summer night. “Yes, to eh, water. She is panting hard.”

He led me up a back deck, where red, white, and blue string lights hung over a hot tub.

A remarkably familiar hot tub.

I sucked in a breath, feeling like a nervous cat on a hot tin roof. He slid open the backdoor. I followed him into the kitchen. The same kitchen where months ago I had sung offbeat while mixing margaritas.

The key fob to Gran’s car sat in a basket, the familiar Lily Pulitzer key chain I had given her last Christmas caught my eye.

He noticed me staring. “Safety first. My guests started drinking early.”

I cleared my throat, dying to get out of this house. Especially since I had just noticed the black orb security camera in the corner of the kitchen. Mr. Hot-shot Homeowner wasn’t taking any chances.

A smile tipped my lips up, as I imagined him in horn-rimmed glasses hovering over a laptop, feverishly checking the camera feeds from his beach rental.

Fourth of July week on OBX—a house like this could easily get twenty thousand. Mr. July placed a bowl on the floor. I set Daisy down feeling awkward.

“So, Daisy. Are you just here for the holiday weekend?”

“Actually, I live on the other side of the inlet. By the bakery.”

He perked up hearing this.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” He smiled not only with that sexy mouth but with his eyes as he perused me.

I blushed, eyes falling to my coral painted toes. I was in a pair of old denim cutoffs with a white cotton, eyelet tank top. My limbs were almost as dark as his from spending so much time on the ocean. My hair almost sun-bleached from medium brown to caramel. I wore no makeup. I had no one to impress. It was just Gran’s co-workers who she told me were all old, overweight married men. I’d kill Gran later.

“I work a lot,” I finally answered.

“So do I.”

“I should probably come clean and tell you who I am.” He crossed his arms, kicking one bare foot back on the bottom counter. His eyebrow lifted. While my eyes were drawn to his muscular arms.

“I think you might be my grandmother’s boss.”

“Bunny is your grandma?” He deadpanned.

“Sure is.”

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