When Summer Comes

“It has to be here.” Pressed up against the harness of her seat belt, she gripped the window ledge as she searched. “If it’s not...I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“He’ll pay a hefty impound fee,” Kyle said.

Would some guy with only the clothes on his back have the money for that? “Someone other than the police could’ve taken it. Maybe it’s been stolen,” she mused. But she thought that would be the worse of the two possibilities.

“If so, his insurance will cut him a check. If he has insurance.”

Kyle had spoken her concerns aloud. She doubted Levi carried any more insurance than was legally required, and liability didn’t cover theft. “I don’t want him to lose his bike.”

Easing the truck over to the side, Kyle waited for a car coming up from behind to get around them. “Why are you so concerned about this guy?”

His surprise irritated her. Having a liver that no longer functioned properly made her look at certain issues differently. For the first time, she wondered how people could be so callous about certain things.

“Why are you not more concerned?” she countered. “We’re talking about a human being who was attacked by dogs. He’s already full of stitches. Doesn’t seem fair that he should lose his only mode of transportation.”

Kyle scowled at the censure in her voice. “There’s no need to overreact. I just don’t think you should get personally involved.”

She blinked at him. “What should I do, then? Throw him out?”

“Why not? He isn’t your responsibility. For all you know, he’s an ex-con. Even if he’s not, he could rob you blind—or worse!”

Before her diagnosis, both possibilities would’ve frightened her so much she probably wouldn’t have taken the chance. But she didn’t feel that way anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t care to enjoy what time she had left. It was more that she wanted to take the opportunity to do good before she was gone.

“He’s not dangerous,” she said.

“You don’t know that, Callie. Even if he isn’t violent, or a thief in the usual sense, he could take advantage of you in other ways—play on your sympathies, sponge off you.”

“He’s not the type.”

“You can recognize the type?”

Levi had been far too eager to handle his own problem with the bike for her to believe he expected her or anyone else to look after him. On the contrary, he gave her the impression that he was determined not to need anyone.

“I won’t have trouble getting rid of him when the time comes,” she insisted.

“You don’t know that, either.”

She met Kyle’s gaze. He cared about her well-being. She trusted that—but there were other issues at play here, too, including, possibly, some jealousy. While trying to help him recover from his divorce a year ago, she’d gotten a little too close and wound up in his bed. After a few isolated incidents, they’d agreed to end all sexual activity. They didn’t want to ruin their friendship. So far, that friendship had lasted more than twenty years.

But since moving to the farm, and knowing she was probably facing the end of her life, Callie had been so terribly lonely she’d slipped back into sleeping with Kyle a few times. “Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend, okay?”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Some would say I have that right!”

She swatted him on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You don’t love me in that way, and you know it. You’re still in love with Olivia.”

“Since she’s married now, it doesn’t do me a lot of good.”

Only the fact that she’d married his archrival—who was also his stepbrother—made it worse. “Regardless, I can’t replace her. Even if we both wish otherwise, we’re not in love. We’ve already gone over this.”

“Fine. The motorcycle’s not here. Let’s go back.”

She’d offended him. Sometimes he wanted more from her than other times. She understood. She waffled, too. They cared so much about each other that it was natural to question why they couldn’t be even closer, why that added romantic element had never been there, especially since they’d turned out to be so sexually compatible.

“I want to keep looking. Could you please make another pass?” she asked.

Clearly not happy, he swung the truck around and began creeping down the road again. When they reached the Gruper rental, Callie peered into the yard, hoping to see the pit bulls Godfrey had mentioned and whether the animals showed evidence of having been in a fight. But the house looked empty of both man and beast.

Kyle broke into her thoughts. “How old is he?”

“Who?”

“This guy who showed up at your house last night. Who else?”

She’d been thinking about the renters. “His name’s Levi McCloud.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m guessing he’s our age. Why?”

“Just curious.” He turned down the radio. “What does he look like?”

He was handsome. There was no question about that. But Kyle wouldn’t want to hear it. Not in his current frame of mind. He had to be going through a difficult period if he was acting so possessive of her. “He’s about six-two, has blond hair slightly on the long side in front, hazel eyes and a few military tattoos. What does it matter?”

“I’m wondering if attraction is part of whatever you’re feeling about him.”

Another comment that seemed motivated by jealousy. She ignored it. “Can you pull over?”

“Here?”

“At that house we just passed.” She indicated the rental.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to ask if anyone’s seen a motorcycle on the side of the road.”

“Who lives here?” he asked as he backed up.

“According to Godfrey, a couple of guys who’ve come to Whiskey Creek to do some prospecting for the summer.”

“You’ll just go up and knock?”

“Why not?”

“Because it seems to me that we’ve done enough.”