Page 62 of One Southern Summer

“Nothing. I’m just—it’s fine.”

“Please. I can tell you’re irritated. What’s wrong?”

Was she overreacting? Maybe. He’d meant it as a compliment. But his words stung like lime juice in a paper cut.

A ski boat zipped across the lake, towing a skier and churning up a sizable wake.

“Hang on,” Greer called out.

She clutched the railing behind Cole. Greer slowed down, but their boat rose and fell abruptly as they crossed the choppy water.

Cole cocooned Hayes in his arms, carefully protecting him.

After Greer guided them to a quieter part of the lake, Avery let go of the railing and shifted in her seat to face Cole. The breeze lifted his hair, tousling those honey-gold strands. She had the weirdest urge to reach out and smooth her fingers through the strands that were amiss.

“Avery?” Her name on his lips was gentle. Patient. Drawing her back to him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to guess?”

“I never wanted to come back here. Did you know that?”

A muscle ticked under his eye. “I assumed that was the case.”

“Moving back in with Mama and Greer, as a divorced single mom who faked her way through one season of a reality TV show was humiliating. I’m still so ashamed. When you describe me as someone who’s confident and capable, I bristle because I’m not that person. You keep saying how much you believe in me and I don’t get it.”

Her voice broke. Fresh tears threatened to fall. She should stop talking before she came completely undone. Greer had pulled back on the throttle. They were barely moving. He and Mama, Harper and Addison could hear every word. But she didn’t care. She had to get this out.

“I’m sorry. I—”

She held up her hand. “Let me finish. I’m still not sure what I want to do with my life. Help people find redemption? That’s a lofty goal. But I know what I don’t want. To be mocked online. And I don’t want to be a woman who embarrasses you and your foundation because she can’t choose the right paint colors or the best luxury vinyl tile. Or worse, a woman that people see as nothing but a washed-up beauty queen trying to feed her kids by posting pictures of pretty things online.”

Cole’s crestfallen expression swam in her blurry vision.

“No one who truly matters believes any of that is true,” he said softly.

“That doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t valid.”

He tilted his head to one side. Probably choosing his words carefully so she didn’t come completely unglued.

“Is this about that photograph or is there something more significant bothering you?”

“I can’t pretend that photo never happened, Cole. People aren’t going to ignore it.” She fidgeted with the clasp on her bracelet. “And if you’ve changed your mind about hiring me as a consultant, I’d understand.”

His brow crimped. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m creating too much drama. People are obsessing over us.” Shame made her insides froth. “I—I don’t want to be the reason Imari’s Place gets lost in the—”

“You are not responsible for that photograph or the way it’s being shared.” He draped his arm across the back of the seat behind her and it was all she could do not to lean into him. Find comfort in his strength.

But acting on her sudden attraction to her dearest friend was foolish. Her heart wasn’t ready for a relationship. Obviously. Look at her. Blubbering in the middle of an afternoon boat ride. She refused to jeopardize their project any more than she already had. If she didn’t want people gossiping about her, then she needed to keep Cole at arm’s length.

Since when was a boat ride more important than Sunday lunch?

“Oh, no.” Julene peeked inside the paper bag containing their food. “They left out half of our order.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. We can share.”

Julene pinned her with a look. “You don’t mean that. I’ll run back over to the deli right quick and get the rest. It will only take a few minutes.”

Maribelle pasted on her most gracious smile. “Maybe get them to throw in some fried chicken to make things right.”

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