She stood there by the Bug, eyes covered in mirrored shades, head turned toward the warehouse. Twelve years ago she’d been a beanpole, long and too thin, with waist-length auburn hair Joe had thought looked like pure fire.

Now she wore some sort of gauzy sundress that clung to her body, still long and lean, but graced with the curves of a full-grown woman. Her hair was reined in. Sort of. It was piled on top of her head in a careless, precarious knot with strands escaping to brush over her bronzed shoulders. The eyes he knew to be a soft, dreamy jade were hidden, but seemed to take everything in with disbelief, and even from his distance of twenty-five feet, he could see her breath catch.

Was she remembering the last time she’d been here? The smoke and flames and sirens wailing in the distance, in tune to her own screams?

She turned and unerringly caught his eye, and her sorrow shimmied through him so that he nearly staggered. He actually took a step toward her, with some idea of trying to comfort her, but a polite smile crossed her lips.

And if he’d thought Socks’s scratches had dug deep, it was nothing to this.

She didn’t recognize him.

Jesus, what a day. It wasn’t often he felt eighteen again, leaving him stupid, pathetic, and yearning for a doughnut, but she’d done it to him in a blink.

“Who’s that?” Kenny wanted to know.

“Summer.”

“Summer, the No One?”

“In the flesh.”

At his flat tone, Kenny looked at him. “You know her.”

“She’s related to the owners.”

“But you know her.”

“We grew up next door to each other,” Joe said.

“Ah. She’s the one you were in love with. The one who loved you back but only as a friend.”

Joe shot him a long sideways look and shook his head. “Thanks for the recap.”

Kenny placed a hand on his shoulder. “No problem, buddy.”

Having clearly decided the two of them were the closest authority figures, Summer shut her car door and started toward them, marching into Joe’s world the way she’d once marched out of it; like a wild, magnificent, deadly twister, leaving awe and destruction in her wake. Her hips swung, the soft material of her sundress molding to her thighs and legs, her breasts.

Joe let out a grim smile as his heart skipped a beat, then turned his back, the burning scratches providing a welcome distraction. “I don’t want to do this. Not now.”

“I’ll see what she needs,” Kenny said.

Joe nodded gratefully, and Kenny moved to head her off at the pass.

Joe got into the MAST truck, and while stripping out of the coveralls, glanced at an equally miserable cat.

Socks hissed.

Joe sighed. “Yeah. I know just how you feel.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Life was short, so grab it by the balls and run.