One Week of Summer Read Free Page A

four bitches on your behalf. But when they’re gone, you’re going to tell me exactly what happened. Understood?”
    I didn’t bother to answer him.  I knew he wasn’t really giving me a choice.  Because even though he finished with a question, his tone told me it wasn’t really a request at all.  It was an order.  With an expectation of absolute obedience.
    If I was a different sort of girl, I might’ve been offended.  I might’ve argued. 
    But if I was a different sort of girl, I also wouldn’t be stuck in a situation where four complete strangers felt it was acceptable to torment me in the first place.
    “Delia? Ennia?”
    All four girls turned our way and I couldn’t quite suppress a cringe.  They didn’t notice.  Or they didn’t care because they couldn’t get to me.
    “Yes?” the blonde and the brunette replied in unison.
    “I saw your dad up on the promenade. He looked pissed.”
    “Shit,” one of them said. “How long ago?”
    My defender shrugged. “Two hours?”
    “Damn it! We’d better find him.”
    There was a pause, and for a second I thought they weren’t going to go anywhere after all.  Or that the other two were going to stick around.
    Then Bex sighed. “Fine. If your dad’s looking for you, he probably called mine and now he’s probably looking for me too. Kirby?”
    I didn’t have to look up to feel the heat of the redhead’s gaze.  It seared into me.
    “Fine. Yes. I’ll come. But I’m sure we’ll be running into this little peach again soon.” If the threat in her voice wasn’t obvious with the first statement, she made it totally clear in her follow-up. “Maybe not when her hero’s around though, right girls? I heard now that he’s back, he has to work all summer.”
    “Fuck off, Kirby,” he snarled.
    “Just about to,” she replied sweetly.
    I clung to the strange man until their giggles faded away and he announced, “They’re gone.”
    I thought – though I wasn’t entirely sure where the feeling came from – that his words had a deceptively gentle ring to them.  Maybe it was just because they contrasted too sharply with his earlier command.  Or maybe his strong physical presence made such a soft tone seem unnatural.
    Or maybe it’s because it’s just been so long since someone was nice to you.
    I shook off the last conclusion simply because I didn’t like the way it filled me with self-loathing.
    “Do you think you can stand?” he wanted to know.
    “Yes,” I replied, not quite above a whisper.
    Admittedly, the sound of my own voice startled me a little.  It seemed like it had been quite a while since I used it.
    But it really hadn’t been.  Had it?  Surely, I’d spoken to someone in the last few days.
    Groceries! I thought triumphantly.
    Yes.  I’d bought some things this morning when I arrived at the beach house and I definitely, definitely spoke to the cashier.
    Thank god.
    “Hey?”
    Whoops.  I was still in his arms.
    “Yes,” I repeated, this time a little more firmly. “I can stand.”
    His hold on me loosened and I slid down.  I was slightly less steady than I would’ve liked, but I still managed to hold myself up.  I looked down at my feet, grateful that they’d found hold in the sand.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, the deep timber of his voice tinged with concern.
    I dragged my gaze up from the sand, preparing myself mentally to meet his eyes – an unusual and stressful task for me at the best of times – so I could answer him and thank him properly.  But my eyes slowed on their own as they made their way up his body.
    The man’s feet were bare, and striped with a tan that gave away his preference for flip-flops.  His calves were well-defined and muscular, and dotted with just the right amount of hair to make them ooze masculinity.  Knee-length board shorts covered his thighs.  But the shorts were damp, and his quads strained against the fabric.
    I tried to force my stare up more quickly, but it only got