Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

graying goatee, was eyeing me somewhat suspiciously. “For Tom Landon. Lives over on West Lighthouse?” I added. Jesus, what was with this dude? It wasn’t like I was asking if he was hoarding weapons of mass destruction or anything.

And if I was, apparently Tom’s name was the magic word, because Bobby nodded, mumbled something about “having a look in the back,” and disappeared, leaving me to contemplate Francesca, who had apparently made her selection—a cherry-red ice pop that she was currently performing fellatio on.

Hurry, Bobby, hurry. Or I was going to do something I might regret.

I swallowed that thought as I eyed her perfect breasts pouring out of that bikini top. I would never regret a taste of her. But good old Tom sure wouldn’t appreciate it. Or Sage, for that matter.

“Mmmm…” Francesca said, popping the ice back in her mouth again. She wasn’t looking at me, but I knew she was aware of me.

That’s the kind of girl she was. Acting all innocent and shit, but she knew exactly what was going on. I knew the type.

“Maybe you ought to take that outside,” I said.

That bright blue gaze focused on me.

“You’re dripping on the floor,” I explained. Not that it mattered. Within moments, a little squirt of a kid—couldn’t have been more than ten—was suddenly beneath her, smiling up at her as he swabbed the floor with a paper towel. “No problem, miss!” he declared.

Yeah, I knew the type. Which is why I was glad I had decided to steer clear. Or Sage had decided. Whatever.

I watched as Francesca’s eyes widened, and she ran off to a rack at the back, returning with some kind of snack I had never seen before. They looked like potato chips but they were multicolored. And the bag was black.“Oh, I love these!” she declared, her mouth now bright red from the pop. “Can we get these? Please?”

For a minute I felt like the parent trying to decide if I should appease all my kid’s desires. But I wasn’t a parent—and I didn’t want to be, at least not to this chick—so I said, “You can get anything you want.”

Which was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Because once we reached the register, I realized that even if I didn’t want to play the parent, I was going to have to pay the piper. Little Francesca didn’t have a dime on her. I should have guessed. I mean, where would she have put it? I thought, eyeing that little skirt, my gaze traveling over her flat little abs.

It was probably the thought of my tongue gliding over those abs that had me pulling out my debit card. I had to. Little Miss Thang over here had, in addition to the bag of chips, also plunked on the counter a container of nail polish remover, some nail files and a pack of Marlboro Reds. I had to bite my tongue against an antismoking comment, for fear I was becoming the daddy here. At least, the sugar daddy. “You better ring that up, too,” I said to the girl behind the counter, gesturing to the pop Francesca waltzed out the front door with.

“That’ll be $17.65,” the cashier replied, without batting an eye. And why would she? Eighteen bucks was nothing in a place like this. Though it was something to me, that was for sure, feeling a stab of panic as the cashier slid my card through the machine.

Shit, I forgot I bought all those clothes, too. I was probably a few more grocery runs from flat-out broke.

Maybe Lance could wait for his next payment. Once he started building the site, he might be able to work on enthusiasm alone.

Pocketing my card and grabbing the bag, I stepped outside, watching as Francesca dumped her half-eaten ice pop in the trash, then turned and beamed a cherry-red smile at me.

“Ready?” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, gazing distractedly at her ass as she started down the road to the house.

We walked back in silence, mostly because I no longer felt like talking. Instead, I was worrying.

What made me think I could get by on twenty-five grand?

“Look!” Francesca said, stopping suddenly.

I looked up and found myself staring through the reeds at a deer. A doe, I guess it was, standing protectively over a smaller deer. The baby, I guess. What did they call those again? Whatever. They were all over Fire Island. Like giant, tick-infested rodents.

“So pretty!” Francesca sighed, grabbing my arm, pressing one of those perfect breasts into me as she did.

Oh, man. Pretty was an understatement.

“I wish I had my camera,” she said wistfully.

I wished I had her camera. She’d pulled it out at the party the night before, and it was quite a camera. The latest in digital. It had to cost at least a grand.

Nothing’s too good for Daddy’s little girl.

Then another thought emerged. Maggie wasn’t the only investor in this town. Or in my beach house. Maybe I didn’t have to look any farther than my own backyard.

I looked down at Francesca’s happy little face as she gazed at the deer in wonder.

What I was wondering was how much influence Francesca had over Daddy. And if maybe Daddy might want to buy his little girl a little stock in a music label.

Hey, why not make it a family business?

Oh, God, that was terrible. Maybe I was evil.

I looked down at Francesca, her mouth parted dreamily as she stared at the deer. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for her to develop a few cultural interests. I could be her mentor. I glanced down at her cleavage. A mentor with…benefits.

“C’mon, let’s go up to the house and get that camera before they go away,” I said, gazing down at her.

“Okay!” she said, squeezing my arm with excitement as she smiled up at me.

And what a smile it was. I felt a warmth curl inside me, and I’m not just talking about the one that had already started in my groin.

She wasn’t just hot. She was