Sun-Kissed Christmas (Summer) (2 page)

“Summer, you live in the Keys. Much farther south and we’d be in Cuba,” Diana said. “Snow is not an option.”

They went back to retrieve Summer’s tree. It was gone.

Diana laughed. “Someone actually bought the thing?”

“Maybe they’re putting it out of its misery,” Marquez suggested.

Summer caught sight of her tree being dragged toward the exit and followed it. The tree thief was halfway out the gate by the time she caught up with him. When he turned around, she sucked in her breath.

He was tall with dark hair, the hint of a beard, and a deep tan. And he just so happened to be her ex-boyfriend.

“You stole my tree.”

Austin Reed smiled and cocked his head at her. “You picked out this tree?”

She gazed at him, unable to pull her eyes away. She hadn’t seen Austin in a long time. His hair was a little shorter and his shoulders—was she imagining this?—a little broader. “I have dibs, Austin,” she said in a faint voice. In the background, she could hear Marquez and Diana whispering ferociously behind a wall of wreaths.

He shook his head. “Would you consider joint custody?”

Summer reached for the trunk. Their fingers brushed.

“How’ve you been?” Austin asked. Very carefully, not too interested. He was smiling that knowing smile that always made her wonder if he could read minds. She realized suddenly how much she’d missed it.

“Okay. You?” She sounded way too uncomfortable. A ten on the dork-o-meter.

“I haven’t seen you since … when?”

She wondered if he really didn’t remember, particularly since she knew exactly how long it had been. Ten and a half weeks, not that she was counting. “Blythe’s party, I think.”

“That’s right. Yeah.”

He’d been with a girl that night. She’d had too-red dyed hair, a nose ring. She’d danced with him very brazenly, watch-me dancing, the way Summer would never in a million years have the nerve to dance. She was just a friend, Austin had said.

But Summer knew that wasn’t true. She knew because her brother, Diver, shared an apartment with Austin. Given the awkward circumstances, she never visited their place anymore. But she did occasionally request updates from Diver.

“So how’s collegiate life?” Austin asked.

“Great, really great. Remember how scared I was? But these last few months, they’ve been incredible. It’s all been so hard and intense, and I still got through it on my own.” She paused, trying to prevent herself from sliding into full babble mode. But it was easier to talk than gaze at Austin in silence. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain. I know exactly what you mean. I knew you could do it.” Austin glanced at their fingers, which were still touching. “How were exams?”

“Tough.”

“I’m sure you did great.”

“I had to take an incomplete in Intro to U.S. History. We had to do an interview with someone whose life has been affected by a war. My first one fell through, so I got an extension.”

“Fell through how?”

“I was going to interview that lady who sells fish by the pier. You know the one I mean? She smokes cigars. Well, she told me she was a volunteer nurse during World War One. But then I did the math and figured she’d have to be, like, a zillion years old.”

“You ought to talk to Harris, my dad’s uncle. Ask him about World War Two—you can’t shut him up.”

“How is your dad?” Summer asked gently.

Austin looked away. “He—”

“
There
you are!” A girl, the red-haired nose-ringed girl, sauntered over.

“Esme, you remember Summer?”

“Sure.” She flashed Summer a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Summer let her gaze fall for just a split second to the girl’s hand on Austin’s waist.

“Pukey tree,” Esme said.

“It has character,” Austin objected.

“It’s hideous, Aus. Let’s get something artificial. You know, pink or silver. Something outrageous.”

Austin pushed the tree toward Summer. “Guess you win. Give it a good home, okay?”

Summer nodded, wishing she hadn’t won. “You can have visitation rights.”

“You’re in the new place now?”

“Yeah, on Full Moon Beach, in one of those old resort cottages. Last one on the right.”

“I’ll stop by sometime.” He paused, staring at her with questioning eyes as if she were a vague acquaintance. Someone he knew he’d shared some laughs with but couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” Esme said, clearing her throat, “we’re off to buy into the true commercialism that is Christmas.”

“Say hello to Diana and Marquez,” Austin added. “They’re hiding discreetly behind the wreaths.”

“I will. Nice seeing you again, Esme.”

“Yep. Likewise.”

Psychology 101

“I know it’s snowing in Minne-so-dead right now,” Marquez said that afternoon as she applied another layer of Hawaiian Tropic to her arms, “but you’ve got to admit, Summer, this isn’t bad. Our own private balcony. Our own private beach. Our own private sunshine.”

“I love the sun,” Summer said. She adjusted the seat on her dilapidated chaise longue. “I love eighty-degree days. I just think they should come in July, not December.”

Diana and Marquez were sprawled on the faded redwood deck, soaking up the last of the afternoon rays. Fifty yards away, the ocean lapped lazily. A handful of seagulls had congregated a few feet from the deck steps. They’d long since learned the girls were an easy touch.

Diana rolled onto her back, her long dark hair splayed out on her beach towel. Even in an old tank suit, she managed, somehow, to look glamorous. “At least admit the fact that this place is a palace compared to Roach Manor.”

Summer smiled. The apartment the girls had shared over the summer had been a little on the seedy side. “It’s a minor miracle we found this place,” Summer said. “If the roof didn’t leak so much, it’d be just about perfect.”

The house was tiny, part of an enclave of bungalows
at the eastern edge of Coconut Key. It was located right between Florida Coastal University, the college Marquez and Diana attended, and Summer’s college, Carlson. The enclave had been a popular resort in the thirties and forties but had long since fallen into disrepair. The owner, a reclusive old guy who’d made a fortune as an art dealer in Miami, refused to sell the property. He rented the houses to artists, students, and other “ne’er-do-wells,” as he put it.

Marquez, an art student herself, had gotten his okay to paint a mural on the side of the house. She’d already started a bright, abstract portrait of the three girls, full of sharp edges, out-of-place limbs, and extra eyes. Marquez, as the artist, had also merited an extra breast.

Summer’s brother joined them on the deck. “Your tree’s up,” Diver announced. “It’s kind of spindly, but if you layer on enough decorations, no one will notice.”

“That’s always been Marquez’s philosophy on makeup,” Diana said.

Marquez retaliated with a squirt from her water bottle. She missed Diana and hit one of the seagulls instead, causing a mini-riot of flapping wings and outraged cries.

“To tell you the truth,” Summer said when the gulls had calmed down, “I’m not really in the mood
to decorate.”

“You’d better get in the mood,” Diana chided. “This is your last chance. Don’t forget Marquez and I are playing reindeer at the children’s charity thing tomorrow. Right, Blitzen?”

Marquez shook her head. “Don’t remind me. I suppose you get to be Rudolph?”

“I helped organize the party. That makes me the senior reindeer.”

Marquez nudged Summer with her foot. “How’d you luck out of skipping this party, anyway?”

“I’d love to go,” Summer said. “But I’ve got to do my stupid history thing.”

“Well, I’m just saying it’s going to be hard to get motivated,” Marquez said. “Summer has a point about Christmas. To me, Christmas means family. And my whole family’s in Texas. They can’t afford to come here, and I can’t afford to go there.”

“You think that’s bad?” Diana said. “My mom’s on another book tour.” Diana’s mother was a well-known romance author. “She could have flown home, I guess, but I think she’s really chasing after some guy she met in L.A. who claims he’s a count. Surname Dracula, I’m sure.”

Summer glanced at Diver and sighed. This would be their first Christmas since their parents’ divorce. Their mom was going to spend Christmas in North
Dakota, tending to a sick aunt. Their dad was going to be in New York on business. Both of them were coming down to Florida after the holidays—taking care to ensure that their visits didn’t overlap.

“No wonder we’re not in the spirit,” Summer said. “Our parents aren’t exactly setting good examples. Well, Marquez’s are, but they’re too far away.”

“My mom makes these fantastic sugar cookies every Christmas,” Marquez said wistfully. “Then my brother Luis tries to scarf them all, and I have to slap him silly and chase him around the house … boy, I’m going to miss all those holiday traditions.”

“We’ll start our own traditions,” Diver said, leaning down to kiss Marquez.

Marquez smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “It’ll be fine as long as we’re together.” She kissed him again. “
If
we’re together that is. I feel like I never see you, we’re both working so much.”

“Are you working the dinner shift tonight?” he asked.

Marquez groaned. “Don’t remind me. It’s going to be dead. Zero tips.” She passed him her suntan oil. “Do my back, would you?”

Summer watched her brother gently apply the oil. He was always so tender with Marquez, so open about his feelings. They made a great couple. It was a reminder of how good a committed relationship could be—and a reminder of how uncommitted Summer
was at the moment.

But that, she told herself, was her choice—school first, herself first. Guys later. Much later, when she was emotionally ready. Like, say, when was really, really old. Twenty or something.

Diver looked over at her and smiled. Everyone said they looked alike—same shimmering blond hair, same vivid blue eyes. But there was something centered and calm about Diver that always seemed to elude Summer.

“What’re you up to?” he asked, pointing at Summer’s notebook.

“My history project. I got an extension till after Christmas, but now I need to find a new subject. Austin suggested someone, this great-uncle of his, but I don’t know. …”

“Who else do you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s that Vietnam vet, the guy with the beard who runs the Dairy Queen. But he seems a little too enthusiastic about showing me his scars.”

“So use Austin’s uncle,” Diana said, propping herself on her elbows. “What’s the big deal?”

Summer noted her cousin’s wry grin. Diana
knew
what the big deal was, of course. “It would be a little awkward, is all.”

“Awkward because you blew him off?” Diana pressed. “Or awkward because you regret blowing
him off?”

Marquez winked at Diana. “She’s in denial.”

“Yep. She’s turned down three perfectly acceptable dates this semester, all because she’s pining for the Big A.”

“Well, two, anyway. Remember that last one who asked her out, the one who always wore the
X-Files
T-shirt?”

Summer crossed her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t pining.”

“Come on, Summer,” Diana prodded, “you need to accept your feelings.”

“I really wish you two hadn’t taken that Intro to Psych course,” Summer said.

Marquez wagged a finger at her. “And don’t forget I have my very own shrink.”

“That doesn’t qualify you to analyze me.”

“No, but it definitely qualifies me to annoy you.”

Summer looked up at Marquez and laughed in spite of herself. It was true Marquez had a special talent for annoying her, but Summer was grateful for it. She’d rather have the wild, obnoxious, wise-guy Marquez than the closed, secretive girl Marquez had been last summer. Back then Marquez had been struggling with an eating disorder so severe she’d ended up in the hospital and nearly scared her friends to death. But now with the support of Diver and her friends and
her shrink, Marquez was most of the way back to her old hell-raising self.

Summer composed her face as she thumbed through her notebook, smearing suntan oil over her scribbled notes. “I just think if you ask someone to give you some space, that someone deserves the same space himself.”

Diana looked at Marquez. “This is all because that someone is dating a
Grind
wanna-be with a nose ring,” she said in a loud whisper.

“Diver,” Marquez said, “you’re Austin’s roommate. What’s the deal with Esme, anyway?”

“Deal?”

“You know, are they serious or what?”

Diver looked perplexed. “They go out sometimes.”

“Duh,” Marquez said. “We
know
that. We want to know details.”

“Juicy details,” Diana concurred.

“No, we don’t,” Summer said.

“I hardly ever see Austin,” Diver said. “We both work so much, it seems like we’re never even in the apartment at the same time. And anyway, Esme’s his business.”

“Guys!” Marquez groaned. “What exactly do you talk about, if you don’t talk about relationships?”

Diver grinned. “You know. Guy stuff. Carburetors. Football scores. Burping technique.”

“Let me put it this way, Diver,” Diana said. “How
many toothbrushes are there in your bathroom?”

“Two, I guess.” Diver bit his bottom lip, giving it some thought. “Red, blue. Austin’s and mine.”

“See?” Diana said to Summer. “It can’t be that serious. There’s hope.”

“Diana’s right. You’ve got to go for it, girl.” Marquez wiggled her brows suggestively. “It was obvious at the tree lot that he’s still in love with you. He was sending you clear signals.”

“He was not. He was just being friendly.”

Diana shook her head. “Didn’t you notice his body language? The tilted head, the flirtatious smile”

“Don’t forget the pouting, come-hither lips,” Marquez added.

“You’ll see when you take psych. It’s scientific,” Diana said. “Austin was sending you signals.”

“Yeah?” Summer said. “Then what exactly did Austin’s hand on Esme’s butt signal?”

Diana shrugged. “It signals he’s conflicted.”

“I see.”

“And it’s your job to unconflict him,” Marquez added.