She pulled into the parking lot of the store at the same time as Chloe. Her cousin got out of her car and looked Summer up and down. “Where did you run off to last night?”

Summer looked right back. Chloe’s green-tipped hair shimmered in the morning light, matching her eye-popping green miniskirt and tank top. “You look like a lucky charm.”

“Nice subject change. What happened, you get hot monkey sex?”

“Hot monkey sex?” Summer laughed. “Who gets hot monkey sex?”

Chloe put her hands on her hips. “Did you or did you not do it with your fire marshal?”

“Since when is he my fire marshal?”

“Do you ever answer a damn question?”

“No. But I didn’t get hot monkey sex.” But she’d wanted to. God, she’d wanted to. One touch of Joe’s yummy mouth to hers and she’d nearly imploded. He’d been hard and sexy, and she loved how his wary eyes softened when he kissed. He put everything into it, too, knowing when to linger, when to go slow, how to drive her crazy with just a nuzzle of that mouth and a touch of his tongue. “We’re just old friends,” she said. “You know that.”

“He’s a hottie. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“He’s changed a lot.” And she still couldn’t believe he’d let her walk away last night. A rejection, and damn, that had hurt. It’d been a long time since a man had turned her down. Actually, a man had never turned her down. Joe was her first. The thought made her feel melancholy, and she eyed the bakery across the street. “The doughnuts smell good.”

“You don’t eat doughnuts.”

She did if she was stressed enough.

“You know how the moms feel about junk food,” Chloe said.

“Are you telling me you never have junk?”

“I’m telling you I do what every self-respecting daughter of a health nut does. I sneak them. So if you’re going, I’ll take an old-fashioned glazed. Two.” She smoothed down her short, short skirt. “I’m going in to see if I can catch Braden’s attention.”

Summer eyed Chloe’s wild outfit before she headed across the street. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

When she got back a few minutes later, Bill was in the lot, buried under the hood of Tina’s car.

“The woman never checks her oil,” he said with exasperation. He wore baggy painter pants, splattered with clay from the last decade, and a Dead Head T-shirt.

“Doughnut?” Summer opened the box.

“Aren’t these against Tina’s and Camille’s code of food ethics?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“You know they can smell this sort of thing from a mile away, right? I got caught with McDonald’s once and Tina was mad at me for a week.”

“Well, if you’re not interested…”