“Well,” she said, “I suppose you can’t punch anyone else today with your hand all bruised and battered.”

He flashed his most charming grin. “I’ve still got a mean left hook.”

Janey was waiting for him when he arrived at the back steps to the Beachcomber.

As Mac approached, her eyes narrowed. Uh oh.

She swung the bag and smacked him right upside the head.

“Hey! That hurt!”

“Mrs. Gold herself was working the register. You know what she said to me?” Without taking a breath, Janey launched into Mrs. Gold’s nasally New York accent. “‘My oh my, Janey, Doctor David must be coming for a good long visit this weekend.’”

Mac knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he laughed anyway.

She pelted him again with the bag. “It’s not funny! I have to live in this town!”

He attempted to wipe the smile off his face and withdrew a wad of twenties from his pocket.

Janey snatched the money and thrust the bag at him. “It’s going to take years of therapy to recover from this.”

“You’re the best, Janey.” Mac gave her a noisy smooch on the cheek.

She pushed him away. “I hate you more than anything.”

He poked her ribs. “Do not.”

“I’m off to get a brain scrub to erase this unsavory incident from my memory.”

“Come by Maddie’s this weekend. Let’s hang out.”

“No way I’m coming near the two of you until the supply is exhausted.”

Mac grinned. “We’ll be giving thanks to Janey McCarthy every time.”

Hands over ears, she shrieked and stalked off.

Mac laughed all the way home.

Even though Maddie wore a conservative one-piece bathing suit, sure enough every guy on the beach checked her out. Mac told himself it didn’t matter, but he was lying. He wondered if he’d ever behaved so stupidly around a full-figured woman. Probably. A nearby group of young men were particularly enthralled, and Mac glared at them.

“Lucky man,” he heard one of them say with a snicker.

It took every ounce of self-control Mac possessed to keep from going over there to smack the smirk off the guy’s face.

“Told you,” Maddie said.

“What?”

“That you wouldn’t like it.”

“They’re idiots.”

“Men will be men. They can’t help themselves.” She reached for her T-shirt to cover up.

“Don’t,” Mac said, resting his hand on her arm. “Don’t let them bother us.”

“Easy for you to say. They’re not gawking at you.”

Mac’s cell phone rang, and he dug it out of his backpack. He didn’t recognize the Gansett number but took the call anyway.

“Hi, Mac,” a breathy female voice said. “I hope it’s okay that your mother gave me your number.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” he asked, even though he had a sneaking suspicion.